Running his hands over her hips, he gripped her ass and pulled her closer. When his knee slipped between her thighs, she knew she should tell him to stop. She was with Alex tonight. Sure, they didn’t have a commitment of any kind, but that didn’t mean it was okay to make out with Cole in a closet.
Or did it? How could anything that felt so good be wrong? It couldn’t be. She was sure of it. Besides, the look in Cole’s eyes was bordering on orgasmic. He wanted her and he wanted her now. And you know what? Her vagina sort of wanted him too. Just one more time. What could it hurt?
She ground her hips against him, enjoying the friction of his thigh between her legs as he inched her dress up, revealing a red lace thong. He pulled back, pinning her to the rack of shelves as his eyes raked over her half-naked body. When they flitted from her bare legs to the pantry door, it was obvious what he was thinking: no lock.
With a growl, Cole pulled her into his arms and swept her deeper into the pantry.
“I’m not taking any chances,” he purred. “The way you look in that dress? I’m keeping you all to myself.”
Safely between the shelves and in the darkest corner of the room, he resumed his exploration of her body, which had abandoned all pretense of resistance. His hand skimmed across her abdomen, snaking down the front of her panties. When he ran his thumb over her wet heat, she forgot all about the stone wall jutting into her back. She forgot about the party, the caterers, and the fact they were getting it on in a glorified closet. Olivia moaned, arching her back as his thumb swept a wide, teasing circle between her legs. She cursed the scrap of damp satin keeping his fingers from her body.
If only it were laundry day.
Cole’s eyes bore into her as he pushed her panties aside. She held her breath, silently willing him to claim her. God, he was intense. In the office Olivia was always in control, but with him she felt reckless and wild. He owned her body and there was nothing she could do but relax and enjoy the ride.
Well, almost nothing.
The urge to feel Cole’s mouth on her struck, bringing with it a desperate need to join her body with his. Olivia leaned forward at the exact moment he slipped his fingers into her. She cried out, the sounds of her pleasure muffled by his lips moving hungrily over hers. Electricity exploded through Olivia’s body, her muscles tightening in anticipation as his fingers moved in and out of her. The pace was slow at first, quickly accelerating to a frenzy, his thumb circling the sensitive nerves that would push her to climax. She threw her head back and relaxed into him, letting him support her weight while her conscience chastised her for giving into her carnal urges.
Again.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she tell this man no? Probably because he had the most amazing hands on the planet. Her body tensed up, preparing for the explosive finale that Cole’s touch promised to bring.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she panted. “Alex…”
“Fuck Wall Street.” Cole rolled his thumb over her clit and she saw stars. Her body shattered in orgasm, bucking against the warmth of his hand. “You belong with a real man, Olivia. You belong with me.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Sleeping with the boss in secret is one thing, but openly? No one would ever take me seriously again. I’ve worked too hard—”
“You’ve proven yourself a hundred times over at PBA!” he argued. “Anyone with half a brain can see that. Hell, Jonathan should have promoted you ages ago. You have to stop worrying so much about what other people think or you’ll make yourself crazy.”
Olivia sighed. “You don’t get it. It’s not just about what other people think. It’s about me earning my place—and my promotion—on my own merit.”
He growled, the sound deep and low, filled with frustration. He pulled away, giving her some much-needed but somehow unwanted space, and thrust his hands into his pockets.
“Fine. I know what I want. And what I want is to fuck you, whenever I want to, without giving a damn about what some fucking teenage assistant says about it.” He reached for the doorknob. “Let me know when you figure out whatever the hell it is you want.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Please see that Cole gets these immediately,” Olivia instructed. She handed Jack a stack of folders with her latest ideas and storyboards.
“I’ll run them over—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Cole interrupted, as he barged in. He grabbed the files from Jack, towering over the kid and standing a little too close. “Thanks, Jack. Appreciate your help. I can take it from here.”
Jack looked at Olivia uncertainly before he scampered away.
“You shouldn’t do that to him,” she chided.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he countered, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
As if he didn’t know what she meant. He clearly got a kick out of messing with Jack’s head, leaving her the daunting task of building the kid’s confidence back up, day in and day out. She frowned at him, but held her tongue. Arguing wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and they had much bigger problems than Jack.
“You can’t avoid me forever, you know.” Cole stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the back of an empty chair, narrowing the distance between them. He crossed his arms, flexing the muscles of his rock hard biceps.
A burning need to touch him stirred deep within her. She remembered the feel of those arms wrapped around her last weekend and she longed to get it back. But he was right. They needed to get off this lust/hate rollercoaster. It wasn’t good for either one of them.
Easier said than done.
If only the man wasn’t so freaking hot. Couldn’t he just be like the other frumpy slobs running around the office? Then she’d have no trouble ignoring him.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” she responded, doing her best to wrestle her oversexed libido into submission. She’d been avoiding him as much as possible for the last couple of days, using Jack and other junior associates to run interference. She knew he’d come around eventually, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so fast.
“We need to hammer things out for the Vixen pitch. We’re running out of time.”
She sighed. He had a point. The clock was ticking and both their reputations were on the line. Cole sat on the edge of the table, crowding her as he’d done Jack. She ignored him, fiddling with her glasses. Why was she wearing them anyway? It wasn’t like she needed them; they were really only good for reading small print. It was more habit, she supposed. She had noticed a long time ago the more intellectual she looked, the more weight her ideas carried.
She threw the stupid glasses on the table.
Cole raised a curious eyebrow, but said nothing.
“What did you have in mind?”
Something wicked flared in his eyes as they bored into her with an intensity she’d never seen before. Her heart clenched and for a moment she feared he could see her every thought, her every desire. Really, how did he expect her to concentrate when he was looking at her like that, like he might devour her any second?
“Down, boy.” She thrust out her chin. Sure, it was impossible to form a coherent thought with his bits so close to her face, but she wouldn’t let him turn her into a puddle of goo. They had work to do. “Can you turn it back a notch already?”
To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. It was a beautiful sound, the kind most women dreamed of coming home to at night. But Olivia wasn’t most women. Cole pushed off the table and rose to his feet. She sighed with relief when he moved to the window, giving her some breathing room. She watched as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing well-muscled forearms. Blood went rushing to her core, riding on a wave of arousal.
So much for breathing room.
“Think,” he urged, locking his fingers behind his head. “This shouldn’t be so hard. You’re the target audience, right? A modern woman, hear you roar and all that?”
“If you’d asked me a month ago, I’d have said yes. N
ow?” She grinned. “Not so much. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still paying the price for my last hurrah.” Olivia shrugged. “Bad karma, I guess.”
He glowered at her. “Can you be serious for a minute?”
Jeez. Since when did Cole turn into Mr. Seriouspants? She rolled her shoulders, shaking off her sarcasm, and put on her game face. “What’s your point?”
“What do women want?”
“I don’t know.” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop as she thought about it. What did she want? “To be taken seriously? Treated like equals?”
“I’d feel better about that response if it didn’t sound like a question.”
Olivia stretched and slipped out of her jacket. The first heat wave of summer had arrived early, turning the conference room into a freaking sauna, and the A/C was struggling to keep up. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the temperature so much as the memory of Cole feasting on her in this very room—on this very table—that had her body simmering. What the hell had she been thinking anyway?
His intense gaze burned through her, ripping her from her thoughts. His eyes radiated sex as he stared at her bare arm with lust. Olivia glanced down, realizing too late that the strap of her red lace bra had slipped loose. She hastily pushed it back up, hiding it under the sleeveless blouse.
…
Cole didn’t consider himself a genius by any stretch of the imagination, but every now and then he had his moments. As he watched Olivia tuck the strap of her hard-on-inducing bra back in her shirt, inspiration struck. And it was an honest to goddamn epiphany. It was so obvious. The Vixen angle had been right in front of them all along, but they were too busy fighting to see it.
“I’ve got it,” he announced. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat across from Olivia. “I know what women want.”
“Really? You know what women want? Outside of the bedroom?” She wrinkled her nose. “Because I don’t really think Vixen is looking for a how-to tutorial on pleasing your one-night stand.”
He shot her a dark look, but let it slide. “Look at you. You make a point of downplaying your assets so you aren’t accused of trading on looks, right?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Yeah, well, between the boys club and the kitty claws, I have to work twice as hard for respect.”
For the first time, he felt like she was sharing something real, a piece of herself she’d kept hidden far too long. It felt surprisingly good. He wanted more.
“I’ll bet a lot of women feel like you do, and yet there isn’t a single lingerie company in the market that recognizes real, working women. Lingerie ads focus on supermodels and soccer moms.”
“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s like sexy on steroids—which real women can’t live up to—or granny panties—which don’t exactly inspire lights-on-for-sex confidence.”
“Exactly. There’s no middle ground,” he agreed, thrilled she was buying into the idea. It was the right approach. He could feel it in his bones, but he needed her on board and fully committed to make it work. They couldn’t afford to be split on this one. “Where does that leave a young working woman like you who aspires to more?”
Doubt lined her eyes. She flattened her brows and he knew he was losing her. She was a textbook example, but he couldn’t make it too personal or she’d balk at the whole thing.
“Where are you going with this?”
“Smart. Confident. Sexy as hell. That’s our audience,” he explained as he moved around the table, coming to rest behind her. He leaned down, bringing his mouth to her ear. “From the boardroom to the bedroom… Be a Vixen.”
Her sharp intake of breath told him he’d nailed it. It also put him in mind of her aroused face, but he did his best to push that thought aside. She’d made it clear at the fundraiser that she was done with their little arrangement, which was probably for the best anyway. Rules were rules, and he was beginning to be uncomfortable with how often he found himself thinking about Olivia.
“I like it,” she announced, once again all business. And damn if he didn’t find that arousing. He lo—No, appreciated, her take-charge sassiness, even when she was dishing it his way. “We’ve got a tagline. What else have you got?”
“We emphasize sharp women in powerful positions. It’ll have to be sexy, but believable.”
“It’s risky,” she pointed out. “If we screw it up, we’ll just alienate people. The women have to be authentic and so does the motivation. If the idea is to empower women, then we have to sell it right.”
“I’m more worried about competing effectively with prime time fashion shows without supermodels of our own.”
Olivia groaned. “It’s a wonder you survive yourself. Do you ever think about anything but sex? Seriously?”
Cole gave her a cocky grin and shrugged. “Might as well focus on the things I’m good at.”
“Do you really think women like me sit around and watch anorexic supermodels strut around on the catwalk?” With her hand on her hip, she reminded him of his sister, the other spitfire in his life with attitude to spare. “Or do you think it’s more likely men like you who watch that crap? Men, need I remind you, who don’t actually buy lingerie anyway. Check the research.” She tossed one of her binders at him. He caught it easily and pushed it to the side.
“I don’t need to look at the data.” He combed a hand through his hair. She must really think he was a sex-crazed idiot. He wanted to point out that the “Be a Vixen” angle was his idea in the first place, and he wasn’t a moron. He certainly didn’t become a partner at PBA by being a completely useless jackass. But then again, why would she think any differently? He was constantly trying to get under her skirt. Not to mention the fact they hadn’t managed to come up with anything constructive or usable in the last few weeks. Hell of a way to start his new job. “I remember. Men’s lingerie purchases are minimal and seasonally driven. We need to attract loyal, repeat customers,” he recited dutifully, raising his palms in a gesture of surrender.
“Good. I’m glad to see you were paying attention.” She gave him a curt nod and replaced her glasses. “Just keep in mind this has to be subtle. We’ll need a robust digital campaign, something that will go viral.”
Cole laughed and shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but suddenly he was taking orders from her? And he kind of liked it. She knew what she was doing in the boardroom and the bedroom. She deserved to take the reins on the Vixen account.
Hell, she deserved to be a partner.
Chapter Seventeen
Exhausted, Olivia crossed her arms on the desk blotter and buried her face. The hours they were pulling for Vixen were taking their toll and she needed a good night’s sleep. Preferably one that wasn’t filled with lustful dreams of Cole.
“Time for an afternoon pick me up,” Chloe sang, barging in without so much as pausing to knock. Already full of energy, she bounced across the room and placed a cup of Starbucks’ Espresso Roast on the desk.
Olivia perked up, happy to indulge in a caffeine fix with her best friend. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Not today, but you can do me one better.” Chloe smirked, balancing on the edge of the chair across from Olivia’s desk.
“Hmmm?” Sipping from the paper cup, she closed her eyes as the scalding liquid burned a path to her belly, warming her from the inside out.
“You still haven’t told me if you’re going to see Alex again. Spill! Right now or I’m taking my coffee back.”
Olivia’s grip tightened protectively around the paper cup. “You are not getting this coffee back. Not even over my cold, dead body. And, no, I am not planning to see Alex again.”
Shame ripped through her. She’d called Alex Sunday night and given him the old “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. He was a great guy, but there would never be anything between them. Much as she hated to admit it, he just wasn’t Cole. Not that Chloe would understand, since as far as she knew, things with Cole were one an
d done. Thankfully, a knock at the door killed any further discussion of Alex. Her jaw dropped at the sight of an outrageously large bouquet of long-stemmed roses and white calla lilies…on stilettos.
“These just arrived for you.” Gabby peeked around the blossoms and stepped forward slowly, being careful not to spill any water on the carpet. “Should I just put them on your desk?”
“Holy crap!” Chloe blurted out, her gaze flying to the mammoth arrangement that nearly toppled Gabby.
“Uh, sure. The desk is fine.” Olivia sprang to her feet and came around to help. When they got the flowers settled on the desk, leaving zero work space, she thanked Gabby and turned her attention to the sweet-smelling new addition. She took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent of summer.
With oversized blossoms and crisp, vibrant colors, they were easily the most beautiful and extravagant flowers she had ever received—not that she was exactly accustomed to floral deliveries at the office. Or anywhere else, for that matter. And calla lilies just so happened to be her favorite flower. It was an incredibly sweet gesture, but who could have sent them? Clients didn’t send gifts like this, no matter how much they appreciated her work. She tore the card from the bouquet and read it silently.
For a real Vixen.
Cole.
Desire stirred low in her belly, roaring to life at the very thought of his touch. She could resist his perfect smile, his cut abs, his sinful tongue. She could even handle his cocky I-can-make-you-come-whenever-I-want attitude. But this? What was this? Naked friends—correction, ex-naked friends—didn’t send flowers to each other, did they? Maybe they did and she’d missed the memo. She had been out of action for a while.
“So, am I supposed to guess or are you going to tell me who they’re from?” Chloe asked. She was trying hard to appear casual, but the mystery was obviously killing her.
“There’s no signature,” Olivia told her, shrugging apologetically. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had her suspicions, but he hadn’t signed his name, so how could she be sure? “I can’t imagine who would have sent them.”
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