Beyond Bliss

by Foster, Delia

  Regards,

  Lucas Sinclair

  CEO

  What?

  She frowned at the screen as she reread the message several times. She’d pored over the contracts endlessly with a fine-toothed comb. There should be absolutely nothing that would throw a wrench into the acquisition unless Kai was hiding something big, and after all the due diligence they’d done, that was impossible.

  Right?

  Doubt and worry nagged at her until a meeting reminder sounded on her computer. It was 10:45 AM, fifteen minutes before her meeting with Lucas. She glanced at the slim gold watch on her wrist to confirm the time, before she grabbed several files off her desk and tossed them in her bag.

  She bolted out of her office, passing Tyrone at his desk. She stopped for a moment and turned back to face him.

  He just stared at her, an expectant expression on his face.

  “Need to run to an offsite meeting,” she rushed out. Please hold my calls and text if anything urgent comes up.”

  He just winked at her. “Uh huh, sure girlfriend. Have fun,” he called out after her.

  Stupid Tyrone.

  Her assistant was definitely one to scandalize even the most innocent of meetings. She wiped the sour thought from her mind and pushed the button to the bottom floor. The two minutes it took to get to the ground level felt like forever as she ran through all of the various scenarios of what could be going on with the deal. She’d already done so much work, spending the week prior reviewing employment contracts for staff that would be located in different countries to ensure that the terms of employment were in accordance with local law and regulation.

  If the deal fell through now, at the eleventh hour, it would be disastrous not just for her and all the hours of work she’d put in, but Lucas would be furious.

  In front of the high rise, his driver, Harry, stood in front of a parked black town car.

  “Miss Harlow,” he greeted.

  Her lips turned upward in a slight smile. “Sophie, please, Harry.”

  He simply tipped his hat at her and opened the door to the backseat. Harry had driven them to several meetings across the city, and even though she insisted he call her by her first name, the stoic driver refused.

  She buckled her seat belt and pulled out a thick file as the car began to move. “Harry, where is this meeting? I have to be there by 11.”

  “We’re going to Le Parker Meridien, Miss Harlow. It shouldn’t be more than a five minute drive.”

  She barely paid attention to his words, only focusing on the fact that she would be in time for the meeting. Even though she had every annoying word of the contract memorized, she started flipping through the pages scanning for anything that could give a clue as to what had gone wrong. She’d barely scanned the fourth page of the contract when the car stopped.

  She slipped the files back into her bag when Harry opened the door for her. He took her bag and extended a hand to help her out of the car.

  “Thank you, Harry.”

  He nodded, unsmiling, but his rheumy blue eyes were bright as he pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Details regarding your meeting, Miss Harlow.”

  She shook her head exasperatedly at him, but shot him a wry grin all the same. “Thanks again, Harry. Will you be here once the meeting is over?”

  “Mr. Sinclair will call me when you are ready to be picked up.”

  Minutes later, she passed through the majestic entrance of the hotel juggling her bag all the while trying to open the envelope.

  She stopped in her tracks when the contents were finally revealed.

  A key card for a room and a small piece of heavy, vellum paper. The numbers “917” scrawled in bold handwriting she recognized as Lucas’s.

  Anxiety and anticipation fluttered low in her belly as a twinge of annoyance pinched her nerves. When she finally saw Lucas, she was going to give him a piece of her mind about all this cloak and dagger bullshit. In the age of technology, he could have texted her to set her mind at ease. At the rate all of this was going, she was bound to have a head full of gray hair by the time she finished working for him.

  When she reached the ninth floor, she stalked over to the room, her hand raised and ready to knock on the door when she remembered she had a key. Cursing under her breath, she pulled it out of her jacket pocket and shoved it into the slot.

  At the beep, she turned the knob and stepped into the room.

  Ordinarily, she would have taken a moment to appreciate the beauty of the room, a lovely suite decorated in shades of white and cream. Instead, her eyes focused in on a black leather briefcase atop a desk in the corner of the room.

  What the hell?

  She glanced down at her watch.

  11:01 AM.

  He was late.

  Seemed like she was going to give him a piece of her mind about more than just shrouding business in mystery.

  She walked over to the briefcase.

  To open or not to open?

  Curiosity got the better of her, and she tried to flip the latches on the side open, only to realize that it was locked.

  A beep sounded behind her, and she whirled around just as he stepped into the room.

  He stood in the dim doorway, dressed in dark gray wool slacks and a crisp white shirt, the top button undone. No suit jacket or tie. His dark eyes gleamed, and she could see the tic in his jaw pulse, a clear sign he was angry about something.

  She bit her lip nervously. She’d screwed something up. That had to be it. Even though he couldn’t get enough of her in their bedroom activities, she wasn’t foolish enough to assume that he would be tolerant of any incompetence on her part.

  Heat literally vibrated off his skin, washing over her in waves.

  Her mouth went dry.

  Everyday Lucas Sinclair was sexy but a dangerous Lucas Sinclair set her panties on fire.

  She desperately wished for a way to smack herself. Apprehension and arousal coursed through her system, setting every sensitive nerve ending in her body on edge. Reason number one million and one that whatever it was they had going on between them was a bad, bad idea.

  “Aren’t you going to say something Miss Harlow?” he asked, drawing his words out slowly –almost deceptively casual.

  There was a frog in her throat. Either that, or her throat muscles were constricting so much so that speaking normally was an impossible feat. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she shut her eyes, momentarily escaping his gaze.

  Focus Sophie.

  Focus.

  She repeated the words several times; enough to where she almost started to feel better. It was even possible that it wasn’t due to an error or oversight on her part. Anything could have happened. After all, he hadn’t reamed her in the message; he’d simply asked for her help. Just because he was breathing fire right now did not mean that he was breathing fire at her.

  Right.

  As soon as she opened her eyes and met his intense stare, her resolve faded. “You asked for my help with an urgent development in the merger. What can I do?”

  Shit, her voice sounded shaky and hoarse even to her own ears.

  He leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. The slash of one arrogant brow lifted. “Do you think you have an idea of what could have possibly happened?”

  Her tongue anxiously swept across both of her lips as she once again mentally pored through anything and everything related to the merger. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t know, Lucas. If I missed something or messed something up, I’m so so—“

  He held a hand up and she halted mid-apology. “Miss Harlow, please stop with your apologies. You need to see something. Sit down in the chair.”

  Pulse racing, blood rushing through her veins, she turned around and slipped into the cushioned chair next to the desk. She was about to turn in the chair to face him when he spoke.

  “No,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a swift knife. Sh
e stilled in the chair and stared straight ahead. In the next moment, he was behind her. There was no obvious indication, but she could feel the warmth radiating from his nearness.

  Her mind raced with possibilities, but nothing prepared her for when his firm lips brushed against her ear and his arm reached around her to play with the numbers on the briefcase lock.

  She stared at those firm, masculine fingers and shivered as she recalled exactly how capable his hands were. Her thoughts were interrupted when his other arm reached around her and settled on the opposite latch on the side of the case. She felt the rush of wet between her thighs even as a sense of foreboding settled over her.

  His fingers pushed each latch outward, and all she could do was stare at the briefcase, unlocked but now open.

  “Close your eyes, Miss Harlow,” he whispered against her ear.

  She was breathing heavy now, as that wondrously languorous feeling seeped through her body as his command melted her confusion and any trace of resistance. Without thinking, her eyes drifted shut as he wove his spell over her body with only his harsh breath on the sensitive skin of her ear and the nearness of his body.

  “Do you have any idea what this briefcase contains?” he asked, nipping her ear sharply when she failed to answer.

  “No,” she breathed, but her curiosity was piqued enough to lift her eyelids open.

  “No. Keep them closed,” he commanded.

  How he even knew what she’d been about to do was a mystery, but she obeyed.

  “Put your hand on the top half of the briefcase,” he instructed, his voice all gravel and heat.

  Once more, she followed his commands.

  “Lift it open.”

  Without her sight, her hands patted around the table until each of her hands held a corner of the top. Slowly, she pushed it up. Mid-way through the rise, his hands covered each of hers, helping her push the lid to where it rested adjacent against the bottom.

  He kept his hands over hers and guided one of them into the briefcase. Her hand landed on something soft and silky, and she inhaled sharply.

  “What’s?—“

  “No questions, Sophie.” His tone was hard and brooked no refusal.

  She was simply curious, that was the only reason she kept her mouth shut. She wanted to see where he would go next.

  It had nothing to do with how a simple command or touch from him turned her body into a puddle.

  Their fingers entwined for a moment, before his slipped through and pulled the silk between hers. She gasped when she felt it settle on her face over her eyes. His other hand lifted from hers as he tied it behind her head in a knot….?

  “Now, Miss Harlow. Do you still not know what urgent development brought you here?”

  Her mind felt thick, swamped with everything and nothing as his fingers trailed over her collarbone and then…

  Understanding dawned.

  A sound escaped her throat, and he laughed – simultaneously diabolical and seductive.

  Images flooded her mind of the previous night. Their lovemaking had started out easily enough until she’d whipped out a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs Liz had gifted her as a gag present. He’d been surprised, but in the end, he let her have his way.

  And then he’d regretted it immediately once her intentions became clear.

  First, she teased him as she played with herself in a chair across her bed. His hands had clenched and unclenched compulsively as he’d begged to touch her. When she finally took pity on him, he’d groaned with relief until he realized she intended to keep him on the precipice of orgasm for the entire evening. Just when he was close, she’d slip off and slide down his body, pressing small, soft kisses along his heated skin, whispering all of the dirty things he could do to her.

  Like take her whenever and wherever he wanted. In the bedroom, in the car while Harry drove with the divider up…

  She’d particularly enjoyed his response as she taunted him about blindfolding her and feeding her his cock while she kneeled before him.

  He’d cursed, begged, pleaded, and promised her damn near anything in the world before she laughed, low and seductive, and climbed on top of him, riding him to perfection.

  “Fuck,” she whispered.

  “Exactly, baby.” She gasped as his fingers trailed over her lips before he pressed one insistently against her mouth. Instinctively, her mouth opened, and he pressed entry into the warm cavern of her mouth. “Who knew the face of an angel could hide a mind stuck in the gutter?”

  Protest died on her lips when he withdrew his finger from her mouth, and it followed an agonizing trail … into her blouse and past her bra until it circled the taut peak of her nipple, wetting her hardening flesh with her own saliva.

  “Oh God,” she whimpered.

  He laughed again. “God can’t help you now, baby.”

  Chapter EighteenSpun silk, the color of deep mahogany, lay carelessly strewn about the stark white pillow. Her breathing was gentle, skin still flushed pink rising and falling in a slow, even cadence.

  Simply stunning.

  Even more so when her body rose and crested in the throes of pleasure. Every time he touched her, it was as if she were a siren, her call to his body pulling him under, deeper and deeper, until he was oblivious to the rest of the word.

  Every gasp, every moan, every breathless plea for “more” or “harder” until he was fused so deeply inside her, it was impossible to tell where his body separated from hers into a body that belonged to him.

  If he was honest with himself, more than his body belonged to her.

  He’d demanded nonsensical things from her. He’d pushed her to admit she was his, as much as he was hers. He’d forced words from her as he held her body captive to his.

  Words he knew she wasn’t ready to say, but he’d needed to hear them nonetheless.

  The pull he felt towards her was more than attraction, more than lust.

  Magnetic.

  Inexplicable.

  She fucking owned him and pride be damned, he was fucking happy about it.

  But even after all he’d forced from her, it still made him uncomfortable. Even as he’d plied her into submission, and she was on her knees, blind to everything but the suck of her mouth along the sensitive skin of his cock, it felt like she’d wedged herself into a space in his heart that didn’t exist, leaving his chest tight.

  And despite it all, despite the crazy need to meld his body into hers and the hole left in his chest when she wasn’t around…

  He’d never had anything like this, and he couldn’t imagine ever wanting more or settling for less.

  Her phone buzzed on the nightstand for the third time since she’d fallen asleep. Whoever was trying to get ahold of her was tenacious. She sighed and snuggled closer to him. He ignored the phone and focused on the perfect curves of her body. His hand reached out automatically to brush her hair from her forehead and his lips dropped to her forehead to press a soft, tender kiss against her damp skin.

  Her phone buzzed once more, and despite his vow to ignore it, he couldn’t help but glance. A text message graced the screen of her smart phone.

  A text from someone in her phone named Mom.

  An uneasy feeling gathered low in his stomach as he scanned the words on the screen.

  “Sophie it’s an emergency, and I need to speak with you immediately.”

  Guiltily, he stared at the offending object as it started to vibrate once more. It was wrong to answer her phone, but what if something truly awful had happened?

  The need to protect the angel slumbering peacefully next to him overpowered his common sense.

  He grabbed the phone and slid the indicator on the screen to answer the call.

  “Sophie Harlow’s phone.”

  And then he immediately regretted it as a blistering shriek rang through the speaker.

  “Excuse me? Where is my daughter? Who the hell is this? What have you done with her?”

  He froze.

  Shit.<
br />
  “If you don’t answer me and produce my child right away, I’m calling the police, mister. They can track you down using the satellite and her phone. I know what I’m talking about, I watch Dateline!”

  He ran a multi-billion corporation, but the terror incited by the woman on the other end of the line ran deep into his bones.

  He shivered. “Excuse me, ma’am. This is Lucas Sinclair. Sophie is my legal counsel, and she’s unavailable right now. She can’t come to the phone right now.”

  She wasn’t having any of that. “Well then, why the hell are you answering her phone? I don’t care who you are mister, get my daughter online.”

  He nearly laughed at her misuse of the word, but caught himself just in time. He opened his mouth to respond, but Sophie stirred restlessly next to him. “Baby, what’s going on?” she asked sleepily, her eyes still closed.

  A low scream emanated from the phone and he cringed. “Baby? She’s your legal counsel? Just what kind of counsel are you hiring my daughter for? Answer me!”

  Sophie’s eyes flew open, horror written all over her face. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “Sophie? Sophie, darling, is that you? Are you safe? Should I call the police? Oh Lord save me from the loss of my only child. I’m calling the authorities. Sophie, you just hang on, you hear? Hang on for me, hang on for your mama! Don’t leave me, we’ll find you honey,” Mrs. Harlow wailed in between sobs.

  A bright red flush crept up from her chest to her face, the color of a ripe tomato. He stared at her helplessly, and she glared, snatching the phone from him.

  “Mom?”

  “Oh Sophie, oh my God. Keep talking to me, baby. I’m going to use the land-line to call the police. Just hang on,” her mother cried.

  “Mom, I’m okay. I’m okay. O-k-a-y,” she said slowly.

  “You sure, honey?” the voice on the phone sniffed.

  Jesus Christ, she’d ‘quieted’ down, and he could still hear the high pitch. Lucas shuddered and sent a silent prayer upward that Sophie would be nothing like her crazy mother as she grew older.