"Wow, Weiss. That's, uh...I have no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to do with that information." He looked down at the paperwork in his hands and then said, "Shit...I left my laptop upstairs. Go grab it for me."
I opened my mouth and then shut it, confused and angry yet again. This man pushed my buttons constantly. He stared at me, as if expecting me to reply. I stood and made my way toward the stairs. "Which one is your room?" I asked.
He frowned, studying my heels. "Take off your shoes. You're going to be here a while."
"That's okay. I prefer to keep them on," I said between my teeth.
"First room on the left at the top of the stairs."
I climbed the stairs and slipped into his room, flipping on the light. This room was the complete opposite of the rest of the house. His bedroom had a lot to say about him. There were pictures of him on the wall, posing with a surfboard as a teen with numerous ribbons and trophies. He had a line of books on a shelf above his desk, mostly related to the stock market and business but some econ theory books as well. I made a mental note of the ones I hadn't read.
His bed was neatly made and surprisingly tame-looking. Not what I had been expecting from the playboy millionaire. No mirrors on the ceiling or flashy disco ball. No kinky bondage equipment. Maybe he had another room set aside for that. I almost snorted at the thought.
I wandered over to the desk where his laptop sat amidst neatly arranged and precisely labeled folders and binders going back at least five years. As I scooped up the laptop, I paused when I noticed the family photo sitting on the corner of the desk. There were five in the photo, including Jordan, in a picture that looked like it was taken at his college graduation from Caltech. His mom and dad stood on either side of him, his dad grim-faced and his mother smiling so wide that you could barely see her eyes. Two other people were in the photo, a teenage boy and a preteen girl with golden blond curls. I bent to get a closer look.
"Did you find it yet?"
I straightened with a jerk and threw a guilty look at the doorway. How long had I been up here? And more importantly, how long had he been standing there watching me snoop in his room?
He studied me with hooded eyes, and my face burned with a furious blush. We held each other's gaze for a long moment before he broke it to glance over the room, as if making sure I hadn't swiped something.
"Sorry. I got distracted," I muttered.
Blank-faced, he held out his hand for the laptop and I brought it to him. He took it from me but did not move from the doorway, signaling for me to go ahead of him. Maybe it was because he didn't trust me in his room alone for another moment.
I brushed by him, acutely aware of the heat of his body, the smell of the ocean on his skin. My chest briefly grazed his and I paused, glancing up at him. He swallowed visibly. I was barely able to breathe in the tension-thickened air. We were now inches from each other.
My heart drummed in my throat, but I didn't know if it was from his nearness or my fear of his reaction to my snooping.
Slowly, I licked my dry lips. "I--I'm sorry about that. There--"
He stiffened. "Just go, Weiss. Downstairs, now," he said in a voice like steel. I suppressed a yelp as I spun and tripped down the stairs like a panicked colt.
Chapter 6
Jordan
I leaned against the doorjamb and watched her go, scrubbing a hand over my face to break contact with her ass. Apparently, I had an unwavering fascination with the damn thing. And that slim waist...the way the graceful curve at the small of her back rose to the swells of her round ass in that sleek, black, form-hugging dress. God, she was a knockout. For the umpteenth time I questioned my sanity for keeping her here tonight.
I called out to let her know I needed a pit stop and I'd be right down, then set aside the laptop and strode with purpose into the ensuite bathroom. It always took forever to take a piss when my dick was hard. And fuck it, her brief brush up against me and the sultry licking of those pink, puffy lips was all it took.
Hell, having her in here standing within three feet of my bed was a bad idea. When I'd come into that doorway, the first thing I wanted to do was push her down on the bed and pin her underneath me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I finished my business and washed my hands, making sure to splash some cold water on my face. It would have to do instead of a cold shower. It had been two weeks since I'd decided to abstain from sex, and it was not proving to be easy. Especially with a little sexpot intern as my captive for the night.
It was an idiotic decision to force her to stay, but how the hell could I let her to go out looking like that? She'd have to beat the fuckers off with a stick, and as long as I had any control over it, that was not happening. As long as I was her boss, I did have control over it.
If I couldn't have her, no one could. At least while she worked for me. If I had to suffer from lack of getting any, so would she. After all, this was her mess to begin with. Accident or not.
And honestly, who the fuck uploads a recording without realizing it? She could have hit a share button while she was drunk, but she'd find that on her profile later--unless it was on a platform that didn't tolerate indecent material. Then it could have been deleted by the provider.
But content like that spread faster than a STD at a frat party.
I frowned, drying my hands. Whether or not she meant to upload the video remained to be seen, but she deserved the deprivation for all the trouble it had caused. And I was just the one to inflict the punishment. I looked at myself in the mirror. Adam was right--I was a rat bastard.
Minutes later, with certain body parts now completely under my control--for the moment, anyway--I settled back on the couch in the living room.
She was standing at the sliding glass door, watching the sunset, and I kept my eyes away from that alluring backside by snatching up my forms and gathering them on a clipboard. I looked up when she turned and walked toward me, still teetering on those ridiculously high heels that made her legs look spectacular. Eyes averted, Fawkes--goddammit!
"Those shoes can't be comfortable. Take them off."
She slipped into the chair beside the couch. "I don't want to take them off." She flicked a glance at me, as if testing my reaction. Then, to emphasize the point, she crossed her ankles and wiggled the foot on top. Oh, so it was going to be like that, was it?
"I insist."
Her brows rose. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be disappointed. The shoes stay on. All night."
All night. She was sending me a crystal clear message. She didn't trust me...like somehow keeping her shoes on would protect her from my degenerate inclinations. But I knew damn well that Snow White wasn't as pure as her nickname might imply. Underneath that cool reserve she showed everyone, there was a she-devil waiting to be let loose again--with my lips, my hands, my tongue.
If only I could make that happen again. I sighed, shifting, frustrated with myself. "I need you to look some shit up for me on Google."
Her dark brows twitched, and she picked up the laptop then opened it. It immediately came alive with the login music to Dragon Epoch. I'd left the program open again.
When she realized what it was, she laughed. "Taking your work home with you in a very literal way, I see...I didn't realize you play Dragon Epoch."
I leaned back, unable to tear my eyes away from that wiggling foot. "Of course I do. First rule of business, Weiss. Know your product. Know what it can do. Know about the people who use your product."
Her mouth twisted. "Comic-Con nerds and pimply geek boys."
I shook my head, laughing. "Maybe in the eighties that was the case, but with our game, nearly half of the players are female. And they are of all ages, too. We have players in their tweens, teens, all the way up to retirement age. There are young married couples who can't afford to get out, so they play the game for entertainment and to spend time together. College kids with too much time on their hands, even entire families who play with their kids or family who live long distances awa
y."
"Wow. And...and all the officers play?"
"Yes. Why not? It's a fun game. You should try it before you knock it, Weiss. Like I said, know your product. Didn't you ever log into your trial account we give the interns?"
A slow stain of color crept across her face. "Umm. I may have...misplaced that login code somewhere. I have to confess..." Her voice trailed off and then she shrugged.
My eyes darted from her cleavage down her shapely legs, back to that goddamn wiggling foot. "You're full of things to confess. What is it this time?"
She sent me an almost fearful look, as if whatever information she had to share with me would somehow spell her doom--like everything else I had on her wasn't quite enough, but this admission would finally cause the axe to fall.
"I'm, um, not much of a video game player."
"Well, as your boss, I'm telling you to start. On top of that, I want you to design and come up with three different options for a project you're going to work on. I'll choose from the three which one I want you to do."
Her mouth worked and she shifted uncomfortably, her eyes dropping to the notepad on her lap. She merely nodded and started taking notes, then ripped off the top paper and folded it.
I shifted, pulling my eyes away from those delicate ankles, wondering how much she actually knew. She'd admitted to me that she knew her sex partner from the video had been an employee, and she seemed on the level with the fact that that was all she knew. Either that or she was a damn good actress.
But who could trust a woman who would video herself having sex without letting the man know he was being recorded? The now familiar heated feeling of resentment and guilt bubbled up. That sex tape had almost ruined everything--still might ruin everything. All my hopes and goals were now balancing on the edge of a knife.
And yet...I still wanted to fuck her again. God, how I wanted to fuck her. As my eyes skimmed down the tedious forms and documents and I continued to bark commands at her, a lower, baser part of me was picturing her bent over the back of my couch or spread out on my kitchen counter...or anywhere, really. Naked. Writhing. Moaning my name.
I hadn't even had the chance to see her fully naked, either. I'd pounded her breathless and yet I still hadn't touched those full, soft tits. Hadn't tasted them.
Goddamn it. My eyes squeezed shut and I rubbed them through closed eyelids. She yawned loudly and I heard her stand. My eyes snapped open. Although I really didn't need her here, there was no way in hell I was letting her leave now, internal repressed sexual torture or not. But whether I needed her here didn't matter.
Tormenting her? That was another thing altogether. Because now it had become a game to me. I wanted to push her--see how far I could bend her until she broke. Until that cool demeanor, that pleasant facade shattered and the hellcat underneath showed herself again.
In fact, it was becoming my newest mission in life.
"Do you have something to drink? I'm falling asleep."
"There's bottled water in the fridge. Some energy drinks, too. And, oh--bring me a beer while you're at it." One beer wouldn't hurt...
Her mouth twisted and she gave me the evil eye. I almost snickered. Good. She turned to go and suddenly she stumbled, off balance and falling.
Before I could even think about it, I bolted out of my seat and caught her before she did a face-plant onto my glass coffee table. My arms closed around her torso, pulling her away from danger as she cursed. "My heel got caught in this goddamn loopy rug!"
As she steadied herself, my arms tightened around her instead of letting go. "I told you to take the shitty things off."
She tilted her head, looking into my face, eyes narrowing. With the three-inch heels, she was only about four inches shorter than me now, the top of her head reaching my nose. "No. I don't want to."
My mouth thinned and defiance formed in her eyes. As frustrating as she was, it was good to see her take a stand. She didn't do that nearly as often as she should.
Now we were staring at each other and it was getting awkward. She shifted against me and my asshole dick decided this would be a great time to perk up again. I could tell she noticed because the look on her face changed. Her eyes darkened as they dilated and her breathing suddenly quickened.
"You can let me go now," she said in a voice huskier than normal.
My arms flexed impulsively, as if rebelling at the thought of releasing her, unwilling to give up their prize. The feel of her pressed against me right now was just too good. Too much of what I'd been wanting all night.
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know if you're safe...not with those stilts attached to your feet."
She swallowed, and I was suddenly intensely curious as to how she would handle this. Would she rise to the challenge or would she give in? Could I break her this quickly?
Slowly, she shifted, deliberately rubbing her thigh against my erection. A bolt of lightning sizzled right through me, and the slow rise of those lips in a knowing smile told me she knew exactly what she was doing.
She was taking this situation and she was owning it, goddamn her. Well played, Miss Weiss.
I tightened my arms, pulling her against me. My hand moved to the back of her head as my head sank to hers. Now I was the one in control--or at least that was the lie I told myself as I pushed my tongue into her mouth.
Chapter 7
April
He was kissing me. My boss. The man I loathed. That smoking hot dude in the swim trunks with the surfer's bod. He was kissing me.
My lips were bruising and swelling from the pressure he put on them as he forced my mouth open and slid his tongue inside. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to resist that all-consuming tingling feeling that was starting at the back of my throat, slithering down my spine, coiling in my center like a traitorous snake. I may have been annoyed with him, but this kiss and his hold on me aroused me in seconds.
Jordan's arm remained locked around my rib cage, pressing me against him. The other hand traveled down my back, sliding along the silky material of my dress to fondle my ass. A low growl rose in the back of his throat and suddenly I was finding it hard to remain standing.
In my mind, I tried to summon up the memories of all those times he sent me back to the coffee shop. Considering it was almost every damn day, you wouldn't think it would be that difficult. But his smell--that hint of spice and sage and a salty tang--filled my nose, turning my insides into warm goo.
His breath was coming fast, and that mouth--those lips, that tongue--were doing wicked things to me. All at once I was aching, from my breasts to the dull throb between my legs. Aching with desire, hot, thick and heavy.
There was a fire in my belly that only he could put out. The feel of his solid abs against my rib cage, his hot arousal against my stomach. His mouth teasing mine and never letting up. Everything in my body trembled and everything inside my brain was taking a back seat to this new feeling of pure, seething lust.
My hands grasped at his t-shirt, pulling fistfuls before sliding up those perfect pecs to latch around his neck. Both his hands were on my ass and he nudged me, directing us to the couch. I stepped out of my shoes and went with him, ordering myself not to think about the irony that, by removing my shoes, I was giving him what he wanted. Right now I was ready to give him a whole lot more than that.
Without removing his mouth from mine, he pushed me down beneath him onto the couch. The weight of him on top of me felt so goddamn good. I wanted him to smother me, encompass me, press me underneath him and have his way with me.
His hand slid up my thigh, pushing up the skirt of my dress, and my legs cinched around his narrow, hard hips. He ground them against me and we both gasped in unison.
I tried to ignore the warning blipping at the back of my mind but it grew louder and louder, and I didn't have the excuse that alcohol was clouding my judgment. He was my boss. This was a huge mistake. If I went to bed with him--like my body was now demanding that I do-
-I would regret it. It would be as huge of a potential disaster as sex with the mystery man at Comic-Con.
But the other side of my brain was flashing the green light and sounding the bugle cavalry charge full speed ahead, hormones a-raging. I was about to get lucky with the second hot man in two weeks...
My hands stilled as my mind raced and his hand caressed the inside of my thigh. He wasn't saying anything, but his mouth was claiming mine, making the room spin. Every sense seemed to hyper-focus itself into a tunnel of sensation that was only him. His smell. His heat. His hands. His tongue. My body throbbed in time with the movements of his strokes across my feverish flesh.
I didn't just want this. I hungered for it--I craved it.
One hand stroked my chest through the satin of my dress. My nipples hardened painfully, ultrasensitive to his touch. His thumb brushed over my nipple, the pressure between my legs increasing to a near painful degree.
He pinched it and white-hot pleasure shot through my body and straight down to that coiled snake at my center. I let out a little cry, but he didn't relent.
"I want these tits in my mouth, Weiss," he groaned.
Those words almost made me peel my own clothes off my body. I wanted his mouth on my breasts. Sucking, nipping, licking.
I rubbed my hips against his, fucking him through his clothes. His hands slid under me to reach the zipper on the back of my dress. I arched my back to give him access and our mouths broke contact. His eyes opened and he stared into mine. We were both breathing like we'd just broken the surface after ten minutes of submersion. His warm breath bathed my face, his eyes almost black with lust.
"I got you out of those goddamn shoes," he finally said as he worked the zipper down. "But I don't give a shit. Because I want you out of this dress more."
My eyes closed as he pulled the strap down from my arm, his breath hissing through his teeth as he looked at my lacey, see-through bra. His head lowered to capture my nipple with his lips when suddenly there was a knock at the door.
His head jerked up, eyes meeting mine. He blinked, as if coming out of a daze, and then turned to take in the chrome digital clock hanging on the wall. It was a few minutes after nine p.m.
For the Win Page 8
