Overtime in the Boss's Bed

by Nicola Marsh

  He couldn’t get enough of her, and the feeling was mutual.

  He hadn’t heard her. His head bent, he had a pen in his right hand, rapidly scrawling notes. The sight of him was enough to set her heart flip-flopping and send her belly into free-fall.

  The guy was seriously hot, from the top of his slicked-back dark hair to the soles of his designer shoes.

  She’d never gone for guys in suits, preferring the more casual look of the artsy-fartsy dance crowd. Guys in faded denim and tight T-shirts, guys with layered jackets and scarves, guys with hair just a tad too long to be conventional.

  Callum was none of those things, was always immaculately dressed in crisp shirts and conservative ties and posh suits, his hair neat in the short back-and-sides, without a scarf in sight. Yet she wanted him more than any of those other guys, wanted him more than Sergio, and she’d lived with him for a few years.

  ‘Hey, it’s knock-off time.’

  He glanced up from a stack of paperwork and her heart squirmed all over again.

  ‘How late is it?’

  She sashayed across the room, thankful she’d changed into her favourite floral bikini and sheer cover-all, delighting in his dazed expression. If her working it in this bikini didn’t take his mind off business, nothing would.

  ‘Late enough for you to shut down that computer and come take a dip.’

  ‘Swimming, huh?’

  He stood, stretched, sinfully gorgeous as he rounded the desk, his hungry expression wrenching an answering response deep down.

  ‘I’d rather stay in.’

  Before she could respond he kissed her, a savage, wild, no-holds-barred kiss that shook her all the way down to her soul.

  This thing between them was more than physical, way more, and as she clung to him, matched him, fired him by clambering all over him, she knew that falling for him had been a foregone conclusion right from the very beginning.

  He backed her up against the desk, the evidence of why he wanted to stay in pressing into her pelvis.

  ‘So we’re done for the day?’

  ‘We’re only just getting started,’ he murmured against her neck, his hot, moist kisses sending shivers of need through her.

  ‘Now you’re talking.’

  She wanted this, wanted him desperate and panting for her, unable to get enough.

  But she couldn’t dismiss her conscience all together.

  ‘You make that conference call to London yet?’

  ‘Forget about the conference call.’

  She couldn’t agree more.

  ‘Good attitude.’

  With a wide sweep of her arm she sent the documents covering the desk crashing to the floor, enjoying the clatter of pens against the polished wood.

  ‘Wow, I’ve always wanted to do that.’

  ‘And I’ve always wanted to do this.’

  She’d expected him to be annoyed to have his precious work strewn across the floor. Instead he picked her up, placed her butt on the desk and ripped open her cover-all.

  ‘Hey! That’s the only cover-all I own.’

  ‘Tough. Besides, you won’t need it. I much prefer you strutting around in a bikini anyway.’

  ‘I like the way you think.’

  ‘And I love the way you feel.’

  His fingertips skated across her skin, dipping between her breasts, teasing her nipples through the bikini bra.

  ‘And taste.’

  He dipped his head, his mouth replacing his hands, nipping the swell of her breasts, tender little bites that tore a low moan from her throat.

  ‘And sound.’

  His mouth covered hers in a blistering kiss that reached down to her soul and beyond, and she gave herself over to the mind-blowing pleasure of making love with a master hell-bent on her pleasure.

  Thanks to Callum, she’d discovered more about her body, about sensual pleasure, than she’d ever dreamed possible.

  A small part of her had thought the lacklustre sex with Sergio had been her fault, but Callum had blasted that misconception with every expert touch of his hands, his tongue.

  She couldn’t get enough—couldn’t get enough of him.

  When he’d untied her top, he feasted on her breasts for an inordinate amount of time until she writhed and groaned beneath him, begging for more.

  When he peeled off her bikini bottoms she lay splayed on the desk, not caring how wanton she looked, desperate for him—all of him.

  And when he finally plunged into her, again and again and again, each time harder and deeper than the last, she came apart within moments.

  ‘That was unbelievable.’

  He collapsed against her, held her close, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the welcome hardness of him still buried within her, and for a long, exquisite moment in time she found the security she’d always craved.

  Callum perused the same spreadsheet for the tenth time in the last few minutes, his mind wandering from the figures at hand to the figure he’d like in his hands.

  He’d never been this distracted, had never allowed anything or anyone to distract from his goals. And his goals were clear: make Cartwright Corporation the number one financial institute in the country, be a suitable stand-in for Archie, stay in control always.

  Right now his goals were teetering.

  Bringing Starr to Hayman Island had been a bad move, and if he continued dwelling on her business would suffer.

  He wanted her, every second of every day.

  Madness.

  He was obsessed with her, would find his mind drifting as she took notes, would find erotic memories filtering across his mind while discussing an agenda.

  His fabled control was shot, along with any chance he had of fooling himself this was nothing but a fling.

  Working together, playing together this last week, had him craving her more than ever.

  Which begged the question: what would happen when they returned to Melbourne, she inevitably found a job in dance, and left?

  What then?

  He didn’t do relationships, couldn’t promise a woman anything beyond physical pleasure. Getting emotionally involved wasn’t an option.

  So how the hell had he landed in this predicament?

  He snapped to attention the second Starr entered the conference room, schooling his expression into one of polite welcome, masking the raging desperation to touch her every time he laid eyes on her.

  ‘The Japanese investors should be here shortly.’

  ‘Paperwork ready?’

  She laughed, strutted across the room in that flamboyant style he loved, her feathery layered skirt swishing about her shapely calves, her nimble, supple dancer’s body an enticing part of her allure.

  ‘Of course. Have you ever found me anything but efficient?’

  ‘Good point.’

  ‘Anything else you’d like me to do? Last-minute jobs?’

  He could think of a few, but none that wouldn’t earn him a hard slap.

  ‘Relax, you’ve earned it.’

  She propped herself on the end of his desk, kinked her hip out, fixed him with a provocative stare that could have tempted a monk.

  ‘I’ve been pretty indispensable, huh?’

  ‘No one’s indispensable.’

  He’d learned that the hard way too, being thrust into the CEO position at Cartwright Corporation way too early, replacing the legendary Archie Cartwright whom everyone had thought irreplaceable.

  ‘Come on, can’t you humour a girl?’

  Matching her flirtatious wink, he stood, strode around the desk until they were toe to toe.

  ‘I can think of other things I’d rather be doing with this girl.’

  She held up her hands, as if that would stop him, her laugh husky.

  ‘Think of your reputation, Mr Cartwright. This is a place of business.’

  Ducking his head for a snatched kiss, he murmured, ‘It’s also a very hot tropical island, and I want you wearing less clothes by the time I get back to the bu
ngalow.’

  Batting her eyelashes, she said, ‘Is that an order?’

  ‘You bet.’

  ‘In that case I’d better do as I’m told.’

  She slid off the desk, slipped her arms around him. ‘Wouldn’t want to get the boss offside.’

  She was joking, teasing him as she usually did, but the closer they got, the more he hated being her boss. They had such an unconventional relationship—had moved from a one-night stand to work colleagues to lovers.

  It all seemed skewed, somehow, and for someone who liked everything clear-cut he didn’t like feeling this bamboozled.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She released him, stepped back, confusion creasing her brow.

  ‘I’m just tense about this upcoming meeting.’

  Her eyes narrowed, her mouth pursed in a cute scoff.

  ‘There’s more to it.’

  Damn right there was more. More confusion, more delusion, more headaches the longer he contemplated where they went from here.

  Could they sustain a serious relationship once they returned to Melbourne?

  It would be his first, the first time he’d let a woman get close, and if that wasn’t hard enough she wasn’t his type.

  She was too feisty, too fiery, too vibrant—the type of woman to make his life hell. If he ever settled down it should be with someone malleable, agreeable, biddable. Someone who wouldn’t oppose him, confound him, confuse him.

  He liked his life orderly.

  He liked his life calm and structured and controlled.

  But what if he liked Starr more?

  The thought jarred, jolted, unnerved him. And he did the only thing possible when confronted by feelings he’d rather not have, let alone acknowledge.

  He reverted to what he knew best: business.

  ‘I have to get back to work.’

  She snorted, her familiar sass evident in the flash of fire in her blue eyes, the toss of her hair.

  ‘Of course you do.’

  He deliberately glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll see you back at the bungalow later.’

  Her eyes narrowed, sparked, shot him down.

  She was magnificent.

  ‘Only if you’re lucky.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  She pinned him with an exasperated glare.

  ‘Just finish your work. We’ll catch up later.’

  He should let her go, let her walk out of here just as he wanted, but the faintest flicker of hurt in her eyes had him snagging her hand, splaying it against his chest.

  ‘Sorry for being a bore.’

  Her fingers flexed against his chest, gripping his shirt as if she didn’t want to let go, tightening the emotional noose around his neck further.

  ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you later. Okay?’

  ‘You better.’

  Her emphatic nod sent a tumble of golden waves cascading around her face and he pushed them back, unable to resist, unable to do anything but wind his fingers through the messy silken locks, wishing he was doing this in the bungalow’s king-size bed with the two of them naked.

  Tugging gently, he brought her head towards him, leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, hoping even half of what he was thinking and feeling would magically get across to her.

  When he finally straightened, what seemed like an eternity later, the naked yearning on her face hit him right where he feared it most.

  His heart.

  ‘You’re killing me, you know that?’

  She bit her bottom lip—a vulnerable gesture at odds with her usual confidence.

  ‘Why? Because I won’t back away, no matter how hard you push?’

  Sorry hovered on his lips, begged to be said, but he bit it back, swallowed it. This wasn’t the time or the place to get into a discussion about why he did half the things he did.

  The insidious niggling of that treacherous organ in his chest told him he’d need to come clean soon, would need to give her some semblance of the truth before she walked, taking more of him with her than he’d ever thought possible.

  Brushing a kiss across her lips, he murmured, ‘Later.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

  She patted his cheek, the gesture more affectionate, more intimate somehow, than anything they’d done to date, and his heart lurched.

  Not only had he let his reservations slide this week, they’d crashed and burned as they’d slipped into an easy relationship—one where they worked together during the day and unwound together at night over sensational seafood caught fresh from the Barrier Reef, followed by dessert: hours of sensational sex.

  She knew he liked the right side of the bed.

  She knew he needed at least three short black coffees to be coherent in the mornings.

  She knew he liked to pleasure her first before his climax.

  It was too much too soon, and for him to let his guard down around any woman, let alone this one, spoke volumes.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’

  She dropped a quick peck on his lips, slipped out of his arms, and while his attention should be fixed on the investors’ meeting ahead, he found it firmly fixed on one incredibly sexy woman as she strolled out through the door.

  The meeting with the Japanese investors went better than expected, but rather than getting away early, as he’d hoped, he’d be stuck here for the next few hours.

  It wouldn’t normally bother him, but he felt like a heel for treating Starr so dismissively earlier and he wanted to make it up to her.

  Grabbing his mobile, he hit the ‘recall’ button, waited for it to ring, drumming his fingers against the table.

  He had a stack of preparation to do before tomorrow’s meeting, a conference call to schedule and a load of contracts to peruse, but all of that could wait.

  Right now he had a more pressing engagement, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  ‘Why, hello there.’

  His libido jerked to attention at the sound of Starr’s sultry tone, reminiscent of some screen siren he once lusted over.

  ‘How did you know it was me?’

  ‘Amazing thing, caller ID.’

  Her soft chuckles raised the hairs on his neck and he rubbed it.

  ‘Besides, you never know when I might need a handsome CEO.’

  ‘Just handsome?’

  ‘Technicalities.’

  He loved this: her spontaneity, her flirting, her ability to turn the mundane into something bright and sparkling and funny.

  ‘What are your plans for tonight?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On?’

  ‘If you’re asking me to do some catch-up filing, I’m washing my hair.’

  Her pause promised the world.

  ‘Though if you’re asking me if I’m busy because you have some nefarious plans you’d like a willing and able partner for, then I’m free.’

  ‘Good. In that case, I’m taking you out.’

  ‘How can a girl refuse an offer like that?’

  Her soft tone held a hint of mystery and magic and he could hardly wait.

  ‘You can’t. I’m going to be stuck here longer than expected, so I’ll swing by the bungalow at seven.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  He glanced at the brochure one of the resort staff had given him.

  ‘You’ll find out.’

  Her exasperated sigh made him smile. She didn’t take kindly to orders, and his being tight-lipped would be killing her.

  ‘What should I wear?’

  With anticipation pumping through his veins at the thought of seeing her later, he lowered his tone.

  ‘That’s easy. Something sexy.’

  He only just caught her sharp exhalation as he snapped the phone shut, thrust it in his pocket and busied himself with finishing off the day’s work.

  Tonight he’d make sure Starr was left in little doubt this trip wasn’t all business.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 
; STARR PACED THE bungalow veranda, stopped to stare out at the gorgeous ocean view, the pristine white sand, the lush greenery, jiggling from one foot to the other.

  She hated waiting—hated feeling like this more. Not that she could articulate what this was, other than a confounding mix of blinding excitement, raging lust and soul-deep yearning.

  Callum confused the heck out of her: flirting one second, pushing her away the next. He’d lightened up so much this past week, almost been a different man, yet the way he’d looked at her this afternoon…intense, annoyed, as if he was waging some huge inner battle.

  Confused? She was completely bamboozled. But there was little doubt in her mind now that what they had had gone beyond the physical. Way beyond.

  Where did that leave her?

  She’d already lost one job and a home, courtesy of letting her heart rule her head, so what would happen if she got too involved here?

  She loved living in the cottage, was thankful she finally had some money as a safety net.

  And, while they’d connected on so many levels here on the island, she couldn’t shake the fear that once they returned to Melbourne Callum would revert to his stoic, solid best, content to focus on business, effectively shutting her out.

  The signs were there. He’d pushed her away this afternoon when she’d got too close and, while he’d apologised, it didn’t change the fact she was scared. Heck, she was downright terrified he’d walk away from her without a backward glance at the end of all this.

  Bringing her back full circle to her original worry: would she be back to where she’d started—homeless, jobless, penniless—when this fantasy they were living on the island crashed with the finesse of a high-kicking hora gone wrong?

  The rumbling engine of one of the resort’s carts caught her attention, and she peered out into the dusk, her heart leaping when Callum’s cart slid to a stop in front of the bungalow.

  He left the engine idling as he stepped from the cart and around it to open her door. She let him, impressed by his chivalry. She might be a modern woman, but having an old-fashioned guy spoil her went a long way.

  ‘Ready for a night you’ll never forget?’