More Than a Fling?

by Joss Wood

  Which reminded him...

  He steered Ally towards his favourite pub and shook his head in dismay. ‘Country music? Seriously?’

  * * *

  Being alone with him was dangerous, Ally thought, as she shoved her keycard into the slot to pop open the door to her hotel room. But instead of saying goodnight in the doorway she allowed Ross to follow her into her dark room.

  He walked over to the small sitting area and flipped on a lamp that cast a golden light over the room.

  Jeez, she’d even settle for Pic as a chaperone right now, but Ross had unfortunately dropped him off at his house before bringing her back to her hotel.

  ‘I liked the pub. Nice place...nice music,’ Ally gabbled, so conscious of him standing there, looking at her as if he wanted to slurp her up just as he had that ice cream earlier.

  ‘Mmm. Not that I could concentrate on a damn thing,’ Ross responded, walking across the room to where she still stood by the door. What did he mean by that?

  He placed one finger under the strap of her bag and gently pulled if off her shoulder. It dropped to the floor with a muted thud.

  ‘Shall we order some wine from Room Service?’ he asked, his hand rubbing her from shoulder to wrist in a gesture that soothed as much as it aroused.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m buzzing as it is.’ Ally made herself step away and walked over to open a window, hoping that the breeze would cool her down and bring her the common sense she needed to resist him.

  She had to resist him; they had business to do and she couldn’t jeopardise it now. It was too important...

  All thoughts of work fled when his hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her into him, her back to his chest, his arm diagonally across her chest. She couldn’t help sighing, resting her cheek against his bicep.

  Ross cupped one hip in his hand. ‘So you liked the jazz, huh?’

  ‘It was better than I expected,’ Ally admitted, feeling his fingers spreading across her stomach.

  His erection was hard and unapologetic against her back and she struggled to keep her hands from reaching back and feeling him; she wanted to know him up close and personal.

  Very, very personal.

  ‘Sweetheart, anything is better than country music.’

  ‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’

  Ally tried to interject some feistiness into her voice but her words just came out low and sexy. She felt loose and warm and very, very relaxed. And Ross’s fingers drawing figures of eight on her hip were making sparks run along her nerve-endings straight to her lady parts.

  ‘Let me stay tonight,’ Ross murmured.

  Ally looked at his reflection in the glass and saw her lust reflected in his eyes.

  ‘I can’t. We shouldn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ Ross asked, his words fluttering against the cord in her neck.

  ‘Because we are doing business.’ Ally managed to find the words, to force them out. ‘Nothing is concluded, settled. I don’t want you to think that I use sex...’

  Ross swore. ‘The other night proved that you don’t.’

  ‘But still...’ Ally tipped her head back as Ross’s lips nibbled on her jaw. ‘Besides, I’m not...’

  Ross’s mouth stopped its exploration and he waited for her to continue. When she didn’t he filled in the silence. ‘Not ready? Too soon?’

  Ally nodded, thankful that he was astute enough to pick up on what she was feeling without her having to say the words.

  Ross turned her around, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he pulled the band from her ponytail, swept his fingers through her hair, raking strands off her face.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured as her hair fell to her shoulders to spill over the fabric of her T-shirt.

  Ally watched, mesmerised, as his fingers danced down her throat and over her chest. Ross buried his face into the curve of her neck as he cupped her breasts, easily covering them with his big, broad, dangerous hands. Then she remembered that they shouldn’t be doing this and she stiffened.

  Ross rubbed her nipple with his thumb. ‘Relax, Al. Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to. Trust me.’

  She lifted her arms to curl them around his neck, lifting her breasts higher and forcing her nipples into his palms. Ross responded by rubbing his thumbs over the hard nubs, lazily watching her eyes fog up. He bunched the bottom of her shirt in his fist and pulled it upwards, gradually revealing her flat stomach and her chest to his appreciative gaze. He looked at her see-through lace bra with obvious appreciation.

  ‘Oh, yeah...’ he muttered, ducking his head and placing his lips over her lace-covered nipple, drawing it into his mouth, lightly nipping it with his teeth and soothing the flicker of pain with his clever tongue.

  Above his head Ally moaned, clasped his head and held it to her breast. Ross responded by slipping his hand between her legs and unerringly finding her sweet spot through the layers of her clothes.

  ‘God, Ross...’ Ally murmured. ‘That feels so good.’

  ‘I know, honey.’

  Ross pulled her shirt up and over her head. Then he pulled the cup of her bra aside and tasted her nipple without the barrier of lace while he slid down her Capris and pushed them over her hips so that they ended up in a pile around her feet.

  Ally tried to protest, but then his hand was in her panties, sliding through her strip of pubic hair and into her slit, touching her clit with his thumb. She yelped, and then one long finger pushed into her tight passage.

  Ally let out another yelp of piercing pleasure. ‘God, Ross, we should stop,’ she panted, even though her hips were pushing down on his finger, his thumb, demanding more. She almost cried when Ross pulled out of her, but then his two hands were on her hips and she was lifted and carried to the desk, where he pushed her laptop out of the way to make room for her.

  ‘Not a chance,’ Ross stated, spreading her knees apart with his thigh. With one quick twist the ties of her G-string snapped and he pulled the triangle away from her so that it fell from the desk, revealing her to his hot and heated gaze.

  ‘As I said...beautiful.’

  ‘Ross...’ Ally muttered, squirming against the cold wooden desk, desperately—selfishly—wanting him to resume what he’d been doing.

  Instead of touching her down below, he touched his lips to the corner of her mouth. ‘What do you need, baby?’

  ‘What you were doing... I shouldn’t ask because I can’t...won’t... We shouldn’t...’ Ally spoke, but she was not sure if she was making sense. She just wanted him touching her so knowingly, so perfectly.

  ‘You want more?’

  Ally placed her hands on the desk behind her and arched her back as his finger rolled down the column of her throat, down her chest and across one nipple.

  ‘Do you want me to touch you?’

  ‘Yes! God, it’s been so long.’

  Ally dropped her head back as that finger—that knowing, amazing, lightning-infused finger—explored her belly button, went lower, touched her bead and slid into her hot, wet, demanding passage. Then a second finger joined the first, and his tongue swirled into her panting mouth as he stroked her bead, and she launched herself up and shouted with embarrassing abandon.

  She pumped and he kissed; he stroked and she whirled away on a starburst of pleasure. Until a dazzling display of fireworks erupted from her innermost core. Colours swirled and twirled and she danced in them until they fizzled and died, and then she slumped in Ross’s arms
, her face in his neck, as she tried to suck in air.

  Ross pulled his hand out from between her legs and held her head against his neck, his hand sticky on her thigh.

  ‘Dear God...’ Ally murmured when she had enough air for words.

  ‘That good, huh?’ Ross dropped a brief kiss on her temple.

  Then she realised that he was still standing between her legs, fully dressed and very hard. She rested her hands on his pecs, feeling the thud-bump of his heartbeat under her hands.

  ‘You—are we?—can I—?’ Ally tripped and stumbled over her words, inwardly cursing herself for being so inexperienced, so damn gauche. And for letting things go this far.

  The backs of her fingers brushed his erection and his penis jumped in response.

  Ross groaned, grabbed her hand, lifted it to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘Not tonight, Ally.’

  Ally stared at him, bemused. ‘Why not?’

  His knuckles rubbed her cheekbone. ‘Because you still have that what-the-hell-am-I-doing? look in your eyes. When we come together—and we will come together—you’re going to want this as much as I do and you’ll have no regrets in the morning. Sorry about your panties.’ Ross leaned forward, kissed her cheek and tapped her nose. ‘Swing by with that offer on Monday before you leave.’

  Ally perched on the desk with her legs firmly closed, watched him pick up the wallet and car key he’d left on the coffee table. It was only after the door snicked closed behind him that his words actually made sense.

  They still had business to do. She’d have to pretend that he hadn’t brought her to a stunning orgasm while she presented Bellechier’s offer and—nearly as annoying—he’d destroyed one half of an expensive lingerie set.

  But, my oh my, it had been so worth it.

  * * *

  Three steps forward, thirty back, Ross thought as he lifted his head up and saw Ally at his office door, a sheaf of papers in her hand. Her hair was pulled off her face, curls tamed into a tight knot at the back of her neck, and she wore a severe black skirt that ended just above her knee and perfectly applied make-up on that face that said, ‘Let’s pretend that you didn’t see me orgasm around your fingers.’

  That cool, remote, can’t-mix-business-with-pleasure face.

  They were two single healthy adults who were smart enough to recognise the line between the two...well, he was at least. He was beginning to realise that while Ally was a sharp operator in the boardroom, she was less experienced in the bedroom.

  Why? She was smart, gorgeous, had a body made for sex... She should be a lot more at ease with the hot and heavy stuff than she had been on Saturday night. And he knew that it had been a long while since she’d had an orgasm like the one he’d given her.

  ‘Hi,’ Ally said, her hand on the frame of his door, her eyes wary.

  ‘Hi, back. You’re later than I expected,’ he said, pushing back his chair and standing up behind his desk.

  ‘Sorry. I thought that it was silly to come across town and then go back to the hotel, so I’m heading straight for the airport when I leave here.’ Ally waved her hand. ‘I have a taxi coming back for me in half an hour.’

  Pic, realising that his latest crush was back, let out a deep, appreciative bark and lumbered to his feet, shoving his snout into Ally’s free hand. Ally sent Ross a quick look, handed him the papers and bent over and rubbed his dog’s head. Pic’s eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned with pleasure.

  Ross knew exactly how he felt.

  He walked around his desk and sat on the corner, his legs stretched out in front of him. He flicked the papers with his thumb. ‘So this is the offer?’

  Ally straightened. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Will I be happy with it?’ Ross asked.

  ‘Why don’t you take a look and see?’ Ally retorted, sitting on the arm of one of his easy chairs and crossing her legs.

  Ross couldn’t help looking at that slim thigh under the black cotton and a picture of her legs falling open in front of him scorched his retina. He heard her panting, remembered how she’d looked without the covering of those silly panties...hot and wet and slick with pleasure.

  He was instantly half hard, his dick protesting against his zip. That line between business and pleasure could blur with one memory, he realised with a shock. That hadn’t happened before. Friggin’ hell.

  He stared at the distorted words in front of him as he attempted to get control of his raging hard-on, tried to keep from reaching for her and slamming his mouth against hers and pushing his way home. This is what happens when you spend your days imagining taking her ten ways to Sunday, he moaned to himself.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Ally asked.

  Ross looked at her, confused. ‘About what?’ Taking you right here? Sure, let’s go.

  Ally gave him a what-the-hell? look. ‘The offer, Ross. Does it work for you?’

  Oh, the offer. He was scrunching it in his hand. ‘Let me read it again,’ he said.

  Hell, he needed to read it for the first time. Pulling in a deep breath, he skimmed through the Bellechier offer, didn’t quite believe what he was reading and read it again.

  ‘Holy hell, Jones, this is unbelievable.’ They’d literally made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He wouldn’t need to do any extra fundraising for the think tank for the next two years if he accepted their offer. He could buy a lot more equipment than he’d originally wanted, and could finance the research into so many more projects than he’d originally envisaged.

  He just needed to give them his face and lend his name to their campaign for a limited period. It was a no-brainer...

  ‘I could push them for more if you’re not happy,’ Ally said, erroneously interpreting his silence as displeasure.

  Ross considered her words for a minute. The businessman in him was savvy. Her words suggested that they were prepared to go even higher. But the moralist in him said that they’d already offered nearly seven times more than he really wanted and he was grateful. He wouldn’t push his luck.

  ‘No, I’m good. This offer is fantastic.’

  He saw the look of relief that flickered across Ally’s face.

  ‘You thought I’d push you for more?’ he said, and caught her nod.

  ‘Everyone does,’ she replied. ‘We pride ourselves on making fair offers but people invariably want more. The negotiations become...’

  She fell silent and Ross filled in the words for her, trying to help her identify the emotion, the word she was looking for. ‘Annoying? Disheartening? Tedious?’

  ‘Tedious.’ Ally picked up the word, tasted it and then nodded her approval. ‘Celebrities are...greedy. I’m glad you’re not. If you sign both copies you can keep the top one and I’ll take the other one back to Geneva.’

  Ross stood up, reached for a black pen and placed the documents on his desk, signing his name where she indicated. ‘What now?’ he asked, handing her a copy.

  ‘We send you a proper contract, you get your lawyers to look it over and you send it back to us. I get started on the fun stuff—designing the campaign, which includes both commercials and print ads.’

  Ally tucked the papers into the side pocket of her bag and resumed her spot on the arm of the chair. Pic, the tart, placed his jowls on her thigh and looked adoringly up at her as her fingers disappeared into his coat.

  Ally looked at her watch. ‘My taxi will be here soon. I need to get going.’

  He didn’t want her to leave—not ju
st yet—so he held up his hand to keep her in her seat. ‘I do have a few provisos with regard to the campaign,’ Ross stated, in his best non-negotiable tone of voice.

  Ally tipped her head. ‘Okay...what are they?’

  ‘Everything I’m needed for has to be shot in Cape Town. I’ve still got a business to run here.’

  Ally didn’t reply at first, and he could almost see her gears turning.

  ‘I’m sure we could make that work. It’s a stunning city.’

  ‘And I want you to oversee this project. You are here for every minute the camera crew and the photographers are here. If I’m involved then you’re involved. It’s your baby. You don’t hand it off to one of your lackeys.’

  By her immediate frown Ross knew that this would be problematic—or that she would make it more problematic than it had to be. Ally... Hell, she could complicate jelly.

  ‘I can certainly spend a day or two in Cape Town, but once the concept and storyboards are approved the rest of the project is in the hands of the ad agency.’

  ‘I want you here,’ he said stubbornly. Partly because he didn’t like the idea of being passed off onto the ad agency, but mostly because he couldn’t get his hands on her, get her out of his system, if she was on another damn continent.

  ‘The rest of my work doesn’t stop because you want me in Cape Town, Ross. And this will take a couple of weeks at least—it’s going to be tricky for me to be away from the office for that long.’

  ‘You can bring your laptop with you and nobody is indispensable. Delegate. Make it happen, Jones.’ There was no room for discussion in Ross’s voice.

  ‘How much wiggle room do I have on this?’ Ally asked.

  ‘Absolutely none,’ Ross replied. He folded his arms and stared her down. ‘I thought that this project was a priority— that you had to make this happen no matter what else bounced onto your desk?’