Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection

by Monica Corwin

  * * *

  The door to the stairway slammed. Grief had Tony by the throat and misery weighed him down like thick sludge, but the sight of Scarlet was a relief.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to be alone?” She dropped her leather tote bag on the bench beside him and sat, her eyes filled with a compassion he didn’t deserve.

  “I’d like your company, but it’s fine if you’d rather go home.” She looked tired and drained and had no doubt worked all weekend as well. His stomach tightened and squeezed. She might take the out. He wouldn’t blame her. But the thought of Scarlet’s arms wrapped around him was better than the yawning loneliness that threatened to devour him. His parents were gone. Both of them.

  “I’m good.”

  “I really appreciate it. I can see how tired you are.” This was about compassion. Hers. And it said more about the woman she was, than the man he was. But, he’d take it. He handed over his one-piece leather outfit. “It might be a bit loose, but…”

  “It’s something between me and the bitumen. I get it. I’ve got runners somewhere, too.”

  “You can trust me, Scarlet.”

  She raised her eyebrows and her smile was soft and slow. It created mauves and blues and wiped the violet shadows from her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

  She turned and disappeared into a change room. He pulled his leathers on, leaving his suit on a hanger in his locker. The night was warm and he couldn’t wait to get out on the M1. He tucked his wallet into the inside pocket of his jacket and zipped it up. He reached for his helmet.

  “What do you think?”

  Scarlet in a business suit was a knock-out. Scarlet in bike leathers? His heart banged against his ribcage like he’d hit the road at speed and his body had skidded out of control. The kerthunk when he finally got it together was a roar in his ears. Scarlet was sacred ground and he had no right thinking what he was thinking. He swallowed against the dry, raspy territory of his throat and when his words fought their way through, they were fried to a crisp. “You look good.”

  He passed over a helmet and led the way to the carpark where his black Suzuki GSX R 1300 rested against its stand. He straddled it before pulling it upright. “All aboard.”

  She stood back and checked it out. “A Suzuki Hayabusa?”

  “You know bikes? Have you been on one before?”

  “Sure. It’s a four-cylinder. How fast can it go?”

  “It’s the fastest thing on two wheels. You’re gonna need to put your arms around my waist and lean with the bike. Your feet go here on the pegs.”

  “Got it.” Scarlet settled herself on the back and wrapped her arms around him. Her body pressed against him, close, so close. His insides thrummed. She was what he’d needed all along. Her warm embrace soothed that part of him that was raw and bleeding. The revving motor soothed that part of him that roared and cried. The acceleration through the warm night air soothed his heart and his soul. The lights flashed past them and once they hit the M1, they reached the one hundred kilometre-per-hour speed limit in moments. The bike throbbed beneath them and inside his helmet, the tears he couldn’t cry were blasted away by the press of the night air. Sobs rose with every deep, long breath. His father was gone. It was a blessing. He knew it. His father had been on a slippery slope to nowhere good. Losing the faculty of his mind was a cruel betrayal to a man who had prided himself on his superior intelligence. The white lines flashed before him, his headlight a bright beam through the darkness.

  Scarlet’s warmth behind him, the press of her body against him dragged at his attention. He liked her there. He more than liked her there. With her close, the pain of his father’s passing was bearable. With her close, the choking weight in his chest lifted and that awful sensation of being dumped by a powerful wave settled. Air filled his lungs. Relief filled his heart. It would be okay. It was okay. It was better than okay. With every kilometre, with every shadowy tree they passed, he felt stronger.

  Scarlet’s helmet banged against his and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. She was exhausted, yet she’d put his needs before hers. Why?

  She should hate him.

  She did hate him.

  She’d pushed him away at every opportunity, yet here she was with the younger brother of the man who had treated her so badly. That was some kind of strength of character. She impressed him again for about the thousandth time that day.

  He didn’t mix business with pleasure. He prided himself on that. Weak men had tawdry office affairs. Weak men like his brother and his father. Not him. He’d never felt the need. In hindsight, he’d never been truly tempted.

  Scarlet was temptation in capital letters.

  Scarlet trusted him enough to get on the back of his bike. Enough to join him in his grief-fuelled escapade. Enough to be with him on an empty beach. In the dark. Alone.

  No way would he take advantage of that.

  3

  Scarlet had never straddled such a powerful beast of a bike before. It throbbed beneath her and devoured the open road like a half-starved wildcat. Her arms were wrapped around Tony’s hard stomach and her body was pressed against his rounded back and she was wet with the thrill of it. Her nose savoured the scent of him rising from the warmth of his leathers. Get it together, she growled inside her helmet. The air pushed against her, warm and lovely and the night held the promise of secrecy, a shield of darkness. She closed her eyes to better savour the sensory storm, her chin resting on his shoulder. When had she experienced anything this blissful? Her body tingled with a trillion tiny quivers in places she’d forgotten existed. Tony had brought her body to life and the throbbing ache in her centre had more to do with the man and less to do with the bike, although the bike was a very fine specimen and there was something to be said for a motorbike engine.

  His father has just died, she chided herself. He is full to the brim with the pain of it and your mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Her heart expanded and compassion filled her. His humanness appealed more than the rest. He’d been open with her. He’d shown his feelings. He’d promised honesty and he’d given her that. And she found she liked it. She liked it a lot. He hadn’t pretended he was fine. He hadn’t belittled or denied his feelings. He’s a Radcliff, she warned. The black wig of the family, she countered.

  She held him tighter and opened herself to the freedom of their flight through the night. The drop in the high-pitched yowl of the motor and the forward thrust of her position on the seat alerted her to their arrival. Tony pulled into a car park in front of the foreshore and cut the engine. The silence rang in her ears and they sat motionless for a long moment observing the full moon over the water, the foamy heads of the waves caught in its silvery path. Tony rested his hand on her knee and her body reacted like a sparked fuse. When Tony flicked out the stand and tipped the bike slightly to one side, her foot reached the ground and she pulled her other leg free. It took a moment to find her land legs and by the time she’d pulled off her gloves and her helmet and looped them over the handlebars, he was there beside her.

  “Come.”

  He took her hand in his and dragged her towards the sand and the water. He could have let her hand go. She could have pulled it free. But, instead, the press of his palm against hers stirred all kinds of trouble in her body. She kicked off her runners and her toes curled in the cool silk of the sand. It was like every sense was on steroids. Loud and hard to ignore. They walked in silence, listening to the pounding thud of the waves against the shore and the soothing hiss of the water as it rushed back like a wayward child to its mother.

  “This is beautiful.”

  “It is.” His in-breath was audible. “And so are you.” He turned her towards him and with his free hand pushed a wayward strand of her hair back from her face. “Thank you for coming with me. Thank you for trusting me. I’m glad I’m not alone.”

  Scarlet’s heart thudded and pounded in her chest. More intimate waves thudded and pounded through her body. Tony’s eyes looked da
rk in the monochromatic light, but she could tell from the tilt of his head that he studied her. Who knew what he saw reflected in her eyes? Their trip on the motorbike had been like foreplay. Pure and potent. A heated provocation. Desire was loud in her ears and sharp on her tongue. Her pulse was an unruly throb that competed with the pounding of the surf. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. Abandon, too. All she could think about was the magnetic pull of his mouth. The plush promise of his lips. The hunger he stirred within her.

  “We’re not going there, Scarlet.” His voice was ragged and abrasive. “I’m not my brother. I will not take advantage of your compassion. Your kindness. Let’s walk before I kiss you.”

  “What if I want you to kiss me.” Her whole body convulsed. What had she done?

  “You don’t want me to kiss you.”

  Her step faltered. “I think I might.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, but he propelled them forward, his feet kicking up sand. “Let’s walk.”

  Scarlet relaxed into the heat of him. He reached over and kissed her forehead. Chaste. Friendly. And she was relieved. She was embarrassed, too. She’d as good as propositioned him and he’d as good as said, no. Awkward. But awkward wasn’t how she felt when he drew her close. She felt protected. Coveted. Safe. She was delirious. The waves inside and out curved and crashed and pounded and pulled. The night whispered around them and it was like they were the only two people on the planet… along with the billions and trillions of stars that looked down upon them. A vast wonderland of sparkling diamonds.

  “I like to think the stars are the souls of those who have gone before us, shining down from heaven. Do you see the Southern Cross? There.” He held her close and pointed upwards. She followed the line of his arm and nodded, her body in meltdown. “Do you see the brightest star in the Southern Cross? It’s called the Acrux. I like to think it’s my mum, look… do you see the extra shiny one? And now there are two. My father is beside her. Two stars sparkling with love as they look down on me.”

  Scarlet grappled with her throat muscles. “You came because you feel closer to your mum and dad here?”

  “You’re very perceptive.”

  He pulled her against him and his warmth and strength seeped into her bones. “There are so many stars. Way more than you can see in the city.”

  “This is the beach where I came as a child. My mate’s holiday house is over there. It came on the market a few years ago.”

  “Did you buy it?”

  He nodded. “I did.”

  “You live here? You travel into the city every day?” The thought was a revelation.

  “Yep. Most days.”

  “You know the stars too well to be a city dweller.”

  “Some nights I stay in the city. My parents have an apartment in Spencer St. and if I’m too tired to make the trip, I’ll stay there.” He paused, his gaze turning to hers. “Thanks for today. It turns out I kind of like you.”

  “I kind of like you, too, against my better judgement.”

  “I’m sorry for what my brother did.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” The words echoed in her ears. It wasn’t his fault. She could hardly blame Tony for his older brother’s behaviour and it was wrong to let that colour her opinion of him.

  “I’m not like him.”

  “No, you’re not.” Now it was her turn to slow her steps. To turn into his embrace. To press herself against him and lift her face upwards. His big hands settled on her hips before exploring her back. They pulled her closer and he held her tight. She felt safe. Foolishly safe. Stupidly safe, but there was nothing safe about the way his mouth lowered towards hers, waiting, waiting for her to close the gap, to take what he offered. His kiss was a soft, gentle coaxing and when he invited space between them and went to speak, she closed the gap again. This time he didn’t hesitate. This time his tasting was a delicious feasting and when his tongue took hers in a sultry tango, she melted into him, her eyes closed, her hand lost in the thick, silky softness of his hair, her ears loud with the thunder of her pulse.

  He tasted just right and with every thrust of his tongue, with every smooth, delicious stroke, her centre stormed and calmed. He held her reverently. His mouth worshipped hers. He loosened her hair and combed it back with his fingers, his touch careful and magical.

  Scarlet didn’t know how long they stood wrapped together, their bodies humming with shared passion, but the harsh cry of a gull startled her from the lulling beauty of it.

  She stepped back, her mind reeling.

  What had she done?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not...” His gaze held hers.

  There was hurt there. From her apology? She wrapped her arms around herself and pulled away. The surreal perfection of the night swam before her eyes.

  “…unless you kissed me out of pity.”

  “I’m the one who needed a pity kiss, not you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t remember the last time I came to the beach. Or saw a night sky that wasn’t bleached by the city lights through eyes that weren’t blurred from overwork.”

  “It’s easy to get caught up in the rat-race. My brother did. My father did. I saw what it did to my mother. To my brother’s marriage.”

  “My parents never allowed work to get in the way of family.”

  “Yet achievement and education were important to them. Perhaps you became over-focused on those things to the detriment of the rest. Maybe you took what they created for granted.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I don’t remember the last time I had fun.”

  “Let’s go for a swim?”

  “I didn’t bring bathers.”

  “You don’t need them.”

  “Skinny dipping? Are you asking me to get naked with you?”

  “If you want to.”

  “You really are a Radcliff.”

  “I can’t help my genes, but I promise I won’t take advantage of you.”

  “That’s what you said about kissing.”

  “You’re very hard to resist.”

  “What if I throw myself at you again.”

  “I won’t complain.”

  “I bet you’re used to women throwing themselves at you.” That was a splash of cold ocean on burning skin.

  “Not your kind of woman… no.”

  “You’re a player. That’s not me. I’m sorry.”

  “We’re not talking sex here. The water will protect your modesty. To have fun, you have to let go a little.”

  “The last time a Radcliff said something like that, I ended up in a locked lift compartment with no way to escape.”

  “My brother did that?”

  “Your brother is a very driven kind of guy and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like consent get in the way of achieving his goal. If I hadn’t panicked, he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did but… I’m not as weak as I look.”

  “I’m not my brother. Or my father.” His eyes shone in the darkness. “And you’re far from weak.”

  Oh, hell. Now, she’d upset him and those barriers around her heart? They collapsed like a sand castle before a wave. She should say no. The trouble was… she didn’t want to say no. She wanted to have sex with him? Her body wanted to have sex with him. In the waves. She wanted to orgasm with the wind in her hair and her scream lost in the crash of the waves that thundered around her. She was weak. Around him. She was definitely weak. “I kissed you.”

  “I kissed you back.”

  “I liked it.”

  “So, did I. Let’s go for a swim, but keep your underwear on. I’m only human and you’re a beautiful woman.”

  He started to peel off his leathers, dropping each item of clothing in a pile on the sand. She stood mesmerised, unable to drag her eyes away. He was muscular. Ripped. It was like she’d been dragged from the sea and her mouth grappled for oxygen. Dizzy. Her head spun. The sight of his body stole her breath.

&nbs
p; “Come on. What are you waiting for? I’m going in.”

  His briefs were black and as sexy as sin. His bum was tight, his legs were long and his shoulders were broad. His grin was infectious and his frivolous joy was even more so. He splashed into the shallows, his feet spraying water everywhere.

  They didn’t have a towel was her last lucid thought before she stripped. What the hell was she doing? He’d come into her day like a freaking cyclone, leaving her in a naked spin. An almost naked spin, she thought, as she dropped the motorcycle suit, peeled out of her shirt and followed him into the waves in her briefs and bra.

  He dived under and surfaced right beside her, picking her up and throwing her backwards into the sea like she weighed less than a piece of driftwood. She gulped a mouthful of air before disappearing under the wave. She grappled to find her feet, pounded by the surf. She surged back into the air, gulping and laughing. His arms wrapped around her and the skin-on-skin feel of him roared in her ears like a supersonic jet. Their mouths locked. The waves buffeted their bodies, but they were stronger together than they were apart.

  He tasted of salt and freedom and her body was as exhilarated by his kiss as their jaunt on the open road. She was aware of him, hard and eager against her, and the thundering roar of the ocean echoed inside her. She wanted him. She wanted him with a passion she’d never experienced before. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and take him inside her where she burned and squirmed and craved his touch. Her kiss became more frantic, more raw, more demanding. She pressed herself against the rough hair of his legs, the hard ridge of his arousal. She moved in synch with the thrust of his tongue. Her body wept with desire. His groan reverberated through her and his pain was hers.

  She wriggled closer and her body roared. All of her focus was on his mouth and the feel of him against her, the rising storm within her.

  “You’re killing me,” he groaned and she begged—she wasn’t proud of it—she begged him to bury himself inside of her.

  “I’ve got nothing, Scarlet. And I promised we wouldn’t get naked.” She kissed him harder. He cared enough to think of protection? To keep his promise. She kissed him with enough force to bruise and her frustration rose until she thought she’d die if he wasn’t inside her… now.