Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection

by Monica Corwin

  “Doesn’t matter,” she groaned. “I take birth control pills. Heavy periods.” Too much information. The thought pulled her back for a moment, but the tide of sensation in her body would not be denied. The pain of it was too intense. The pleasure too agonising. “For Christ’s sake, Radcliff. Do it already and hurry up.”

  “I promised.” If the waves hadn’t splashed about them and salty droplets hadn’t hung from their eyelashes, she would have seen the tears in his eyes.

  “I relieve you from your promise. I swear to God, Radcliff. You started this, you need to finish it.” He pulled no punches. His hands grappled with their wet underwear until she was naked and so was he. He scooped her up by the buttocks and she wrapped her legs around him, leveraging herself higher. One thrust and he filled her. Joined with her until she moved against him and soared with the joy of it. Her hands clung to his biceps, his shoulders, his lats… a sensory feasting that was lost in the sensory storm he whipped up in her body. The waves crashed around them, but he stood strong and valiant, while she rode him like a V8 engine, driving them both beyond endurance until her cries echoed with the waves, his seed pumped deep inside her and she sagged against him, the aftershocks of her orgasm driving more yelps from her lips. He pulled her close and she kissed his neck, his ears, his wet head.

  “Holy moly,” she muttered and he laughed, a deep vibration that nearly sent her over the edge again.

  “You could say that.” His breath was short and frantic and his heart banged against hers. “Lucky I’m young. I don’t think an older man would have survived it.” He nuzzled her neck. “How do you stay this trim and delicious when you spend so many hours at the office. Your bum is outstanding.”

  She giggled, the laughter bubbling up from deep inside. “I take the stairs a lot. Eighteen flights of them. Carrying files. A full workout.”

  “Because of my brother and what happened?”

  “Partly. I just don’t like enclosed spaces, especially lifts.” And it was then she realised, she hadn’t felt the usual panic when she got up close and personal with a man. This man was open space. The vastness of the ocean. The night sky. The open road. Not once had she felt closed in or afraid. Her body had opened to him, too. Readily. Willingly. Wantonly.

  She lowered her mouth to his and together they tasted, their kiss more intimate, more tender than it was before. “How are your legs?” she murmured, suddenly realising he was holding her weight and she was wrapped around him like an ocean vine.

  “Fine.” He paused. “Getting tired.”

  The laughter gurgled up again. “You’re doing all the work.”

  “Trust me. This is not my idea of work. If it was, I’d be a workaholic.”

  Scarlet eased herself off him, crying out when they separated, the rush of the salt water cold after the heat of his body. He pulled her close and they stood together, their arms wrapped around each other, the moon glowing over the dark expanse of the churning water.

  “Where’s our underwear?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  “You threw them away?”

  “Honey, you were in a hurry.” He chuckled. “But, I kind of like the feel of you naked against me.”

  “You feel pretty good yourself, but you did look sexy in your black jocks.”

  “You look sexy in whatever you wear.”

  “Even compromised principles?”

  “Especially compromised principles.” His tone was jovial, but his gaze was serious as he took her chin in his hands. “Tell me you’re not going to regret this.”

  “How could I?” She leant forward to press her lips softly against his. “I enjoyed it too much.”

  He answered in kind, murmuring, “I’ll remind you of that tomorrow in the light of day.”

  “Are you going to invite me to your place for a hot shower?”

  “Sure. After I dunk you a few times.”

  Scarlet felt his hands around her and she sailed through the air, landing hard on the back of a wave. The water engulfed her and she flailed about with her arms and legs. It seemed like forever before she felt his strong arms grip her and drag her to the surface. She gasped and choked on the water she’d swallowed.

  “Are you trying to get rid of the competition?” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath.

  “I’m kind of partial to the competition. What happened?” He drew her against his body and she savoured the feel of him against her. Skin to skin.

  “The wave crashed over me and I got disoriented.” She shivered as a breeze blew over them.

  “Let’s get you into a hot shower and I’ll make you a hot chocolate. You’re cold.”

  “How are we supposed to get to your house? What if the neighbours are awake?”

  “There’re mostly retired folk around here. They’ve probably been asleep for a while.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Scarlet pulled herself out of his arms and surged from the water in a full run, her laughter skipping ahead of her. She caught sight of her black bra washed up on the sand and deviated back to grab it.

  “Look what I found!”

  “And look what I’ve got,” he countered and she grinned when she saw his sexy black jocks and her own black knickers. “You’re quite the fisherman.”

  “And you’re quite the mermaid.”

  * * *

  Tony stirred the organic chocolate mix into a mug and waited for the kettle to boil. His small beach shack was deceptive. The inside was recently renovated and had all the latest finishes and appliances, while the outside retained its humble, weather-beaten appearance except for new guttering. He was tempted to join Scarlet in the shower, but he wanted to take it slow with her, worried about how she’d feel when she came down from her sensory high.

  Goodness knew his own body was still weak from the explosive crazy of their sexual encounter. It had been just the right antidote to the emotions that stormed inside him. No doubt, they’d both crash very soon, exhausted and in need of sleep. It was a work night after all. He put out some cinnamon cake. It was his mum’s recipe and he’d taken to making it after she died. Funny how the taste and smell of it brought his memories of her to life.

  He tightened the towel around his hips and had just taken a bite when Scarlet came into the room drying her hair with a towel. She’d put an old t-shirt of his on and it was long enough to look like a dress.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Exhilarated. You?”

  “Same.”

  Her eyes glowed like amethyst and her smile gave him chills all over. She settled herself at his island bench. “Nice marble.” Her hands ran over it and he smiled. There was something about the feel of natural stone.

  “Here.” He pushed the cup towards her and cut another piece of cake. He put it onto a plate for her with a small fork.

  “Did you make this?”

  “Life isn’t all about work.”

  “The trip down on the motorbike sure wasn’t a hardship.”

  “Thank you for tonight.” The words seemed paltry compared with the sentiment behind them. “Today was tough, but you made tonight special. Something good to remember. Something to offset the sad.”

  “You make it sound like you don’t want to do it again.”

  “Oh, I do, but I know things might change when we get back to the office.”

  Scarlet’s gaze held his and his stomach clenched. Her eyes were smoky. Smoky violet. Her hair was wet and pushed back from her face. Her heart-shaped face. She was gorgeous and the force of his attraction sucker-punched him in the belly. Blue blazes. He loved her in his t-shirt. He loved watching her eat cake. Every slide of the fork from her delectable mouth stirred him mercilessly and ratcheted up the tension in his body. Her lips were rosy, even without lipstick and there were no smudges of mascara, no clumpy mess. She smiled at him. A soft, secret smile so potent, it nearly floored him with desire. He sipped his hot chocolate and strove to extinguish the flames that ravaged him. His body gave him away. So hard. So r
eady. So hungry for hers.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” He tightened the towel around him and turned away from her.

  “Better make that a cold one, Radcliff.”

  He turned and her smile was radiant. The flames flared and wildfire razed his body. “Wicked witch...”

  “But, I’m not from the West.”

  He chuckled. “Where do you live?”

  “Middle Park. In a terrace house.”

  “I pictured you in a high-rise city apartment.” Lording it over the world, although that had been yesterday morning. He glanced at the clock on the living room wall. It was well past midnight. A lot had changed over the course of a day. For one, he now knew she disliked lifts and there was little chance she’d live in a high-rise city apartment. For two, she wasn’t the woman he’d thought she was. She was far from the ice queen of yesterday morning.

  “Would you like me to take you home? Or would you rather sleep here and I’ll drop you home in the morning? I have a guest room or you could sleep with me.” He said it easily enough, but the thought of her in his bed, her blonde hair spread across the silver of his sheets, the moonlight catching her skin took those flames and raised them a thousand degrees.

  “Sleep?” Her eyebrows rose.

  She was onto him. “I’ll go and have a shower while you work out what you’d like to do.” He turned and realised he liked the look of her in his kitchen. He liked a lot of things about her. He liked that she was driven and competent. He liked her fetish for V8 motors. He liked the way she melted beneath his touch, her heat, her hunger… and that made walking even more difficult.

  He turned the water on and closed his eyes, his face tipped towards the warmth of the hot spray. His mind was on Scarlet, her incredible responsiveness, the way she cried when she climaxed, the way her lips moulded to his when he felt her arms encircle his torso. Had he conjured her from the sheer intensity of his desire for her?

  “Let’s not waste that enthusiasm you’ve got going there.”

  She reached for the soap and slid it over his torso and down to where he jerked into rapacious life. “Wicked woman.”

  “So you said.”

  Her mouth was on his neck and his brain short-circuited. His blood had long gone south and he was past reasoning. He was past promising or worrying or even thought. When he could stand it no longer, he turned and his body collided with hers sending his circuitry into spasm. “Hand over the soap, O’Connor.”

  “Pushy.”

  He gently prised the soap from her hand. She slid against him, the feel of her body… ravishing. He clamped his lips to hers and tasted like she was his last meal. Never had he become so lost in a woman that he didn’t know if he was up or down, like being dumped by a wave of unfathomable mass.

  He ran the bar of soap over her body, lathering her up until her sexy curves were slick and the soap dropped to the floor with a thud. His sudsy touch lingered on the full deliciousness of her breasts. Her nipples puckered and tightened into pebble-hard nubs and she groaned against his lips. His arousal throbbed against the softness of her stomach and he stepped her back until she leaned against the tiled wall, his kiss deepening, his tongue lashing hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts swollen, the hard peaks torturously provocative, and devoured him right back, her mouth bruising, her teeth grazing. Her body writhed and slipped against his, stirring him into a frenzy. When her hand reached down to explore him, he near blew from the thrill of it and when she pushed them back under the water and positioned herself just so, he sank into her velvety heat. Her cry rang in his ears and her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper and driving him insane. He supported her buttocks with his hands and she rode him until her body convulsed around him and his exploded inside of hers.

  He struggled for breath and his blood thundered in his ears. Sweet mercy. The woman was wild. She clung to him, her hot breath on his neck, her chest banging against his with the force of her heartbeat. He gasped for air, his chest heaving, his breath too short. “Wow.”

  “Wow,” she repeated, her laugh gurgling into his neck, her mouth moving to his. Her tasting was softer now, quiet, like the ocean in the early morning when the sun has just risen and its rosy rays dance on the surface. He sank into it. Slowly. Settling. And with it came peace. His eyes closed. The storm in his body eased. And it was like he’d found something he hadn’t known was missing.

  4

  Sunlight struck Scarlet in the face and she cringed, her hand lifting to cover her eyes, a groan coming to her lips. She felt like she had a hangover. Her body ached and she could barely lift her head. The light physically pained her.

  “Rise and shine.”

  She opened one eye against the punishment of the light and saw Tony, his hair wet, his wetsuit peeled off to the waist. “You’ve been for a surf.”

  “A quick one. We need to get you home, then in to work.”

  “Oh my God. What day is it?”

  “Tuesday.” He grinned and the flash of his white teeth was too much to bear. “Coffee?”

  He held out a cup and the aroma penetrated her stupor. She reached for it like a drowning woman might reach for a buoy. “Bless you.”

  She took a sip and the shroud of exhaustion shifted. Another and she was able to open both eyes. A third and she leapt from the bed. “I need a shower. Got to get going. What time is it?”

  “Six.”

  “Six? It feels like the middle of the night.”

  “I can have you home by seven-thirty if you move.”

  “Great. Thanks.” She flicked the faucet and stood under the hot spray, her mind numb for long minutes until it turned to clothes and underwear—wet underwear—and oh hell, then it all came back. The ocean. The shower. The bed. No wonder her body felt like it had been hit by a tsunami.

  “There’s a hot towel here. And your underwear. Straight out of the dryer. I’ve topped up your coffee. Move, O’Connor. We need to go. There’s toast, too.”

  “Thanks.” The word near choked her. She was in Tony Radcliff’s shower and it was all so comfortable, so normal, so easy. They’d had sex. They’d had more than sex. Scarlet wouldn’t fast forget the earth-shifting nature of what had passed between them. Oh, hell. What had she done? It’s fine. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.

  She lifted the warm towel to her nose and pressed it close. It smelt fresh and clean and of something sweet and citrusy… orange.

  She had to move. Her limbs were heavy, her mind slow. She rubbed the towel over her body and reached for her underwear. He’d left deodorant out for her and a new toothbrush. He knew how to woo a woman’s heart. He’d dried her underwear. Warmth flushed through her. Damn it. Why did he have to be so nice? It was hard to find fault. It was hard to find anything to use against him. She needed it. She needed to armour up. She needed to move. She glanced at her watch.

  She put her shirt on and it barely covered her private parts. She needed that leather one-piece to be decent and it wasn’t in the bathroom. She’d have to saunter into the kitchen with her legs on display. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them already. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a lot more than her legs and when it came down to it, if she remembered correctly, it wasn’t like her parts were that private anymore. She blushed and eyed her pink cheeks in the mirror. A bit late for that.

  * * *

  Tony waited in front of Scarlet’s two-story terrace house. The veranda had black and white tessellated tiles and the garden was manicured to perfection. It was quaint and beautiful and as precise as she was. She took all of the promised five minutes and returned with a backpack full of clothes. He watched as she returned the spare key to the key lock. She straddled the bike and wrapped her arms around him. Where before his body had buzzed like a hive when she’d pressed against him, now her touch was enough to trigger a very intimate kind of reaction.

  “Let’s go,” she prompted.

  “One moment.” His tone was a deep growl and he focused on anything
but the warmth of her arms around his midriff and the press of her body against his buttocks. He mastered the flames, pushed them back, took a deep breath. “Right.”

  The trip into the city was quick. He pulled in next to her car and cut the engine. He waited for Scarlet to dismount before he pulled off his helmet and swung his leg over himself. Maybe it was her silence or the way the air tightened against his skin. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Look.”

  Someone had scratched the word SLUT into the shiny black duco of her door and worse, in big letters across the bonnet. She stood paralysed, like she’d been struck.

  “Why? Why would someone do that?”

  “We left it here overnight. Maybe it was a random attack.” No one could know what had happened between them. It made no sense. “I’ll check in with Bob. See if there’s anything on the security cameras.” He took her into his arms and held her, but she didn’t melt into him the way she had that morning. Instead, she stiffened and stepped away.

  “You go and get changed. I’ll deal with this. It’s my problem.”

  “It’s our problem. It was because of me your car was here overnight.”

  “That was my choice, Radcliff.”

  He could feel her pulling away, hardening, closing him out and he didn’t like it. He wanted her back in his arms, hot and molten. He felt it, too. Cold, hard reality impinging on their happy bubble. “Scarlet.” Her loss was almost too much to bear. With her, he hadn’t had time to think about his dad lying lifeless in a hospital morgue. He hadn’t had time to think of the emptiness in his life where his parents had lived or the sharp edge of regret.

  “See you upstairs.”

  “Okay.” Of all the words they had to scratch into her car. There must be tens of dozens of cuss words they could have used, but no, they had to use the one word that was sure to hurt her the most and the irony was, what had passed between them couldn’t be further from a slutty fling. He’d felt a connection with her. A connection he hadn’t felt with any other woman before. Maybe because his emotions had been so raw after his father’s death. Maybe because of what his brother had put her through. Maybe because she’d fitted against him like she was made to be there, like they were made for each other. Snap out of it, Ant. The word made his skin crawl. She’s a colleague. A lawyer, with goals and aspirations that clash with yours. How the hell could they make it work? May the best man—or woman—win. His words echoed in his head. They were mature enough to keep their work at work and their personal lives separate.