Occupational Hazard: The Ultimate Workplace Romance Box Set

by Eve Langlais

  ‘You’re still wearing...’ She tugged at his shirt when he cut off her sentence with his kiss.

  ‘Can’t stop.’ There was no way to remove his clothes while Hattie was in his arms and he was kissing her.

  She cupped his jaw with her hands. ‘Pause.’

  She pulled away and again he moved back towards her. She shook her head and winked. ‘Uh uh.’

  He groaned.

  ‘Shirt. Now.’ He dragged his shirt over his head.

  ‘Jeans.’ Her eyes were sparkling and she’d begun to play with her own breasts. He was going to kill her if he didn’t die first.

  Finally, his belt gave way. He pushed the denim down and kicked it out of the way. Socks were easily dealt with.

  Her lips twitched into a smile. ‘And the rest.’ Boxers slid to the floor. ‘Now get over here and make love to me.’

  ‘Since you ask so nicely,’ he growled. He dropped onto the bed and crawled towards her, pushing her legs apart. When he got near enough, he pulled her hands from her breasts. ‘Gorgeous.’

  ‘You’re not so bad yourself.’

  It was too long since he’d kissed her. Time to remedy that. But her lips were no longer enough. He needed everything she could give. He reached down to slide a finger inside her. Wet and hot and enough to send his need skyrocketing.

  ‘Now,’ she urged him. ‘I need...’

  ‘I know.’ Her need couldn’t be greater than his.

  Only... damn. Damn, damn, damn. He rolled off her and put his arm over his forehead. ‘I haven’t got any condoms.’

  Her breathing was audible. Then he realised that his was no quieter. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning to do this when I packed for the week. I don’t suppose you have any?’

  ‘Handbag. Downstairs. Should be some in the inside pocket.’

  ‘I’ll go.’

  He was hot enough not to care that the house was freezing. He located Hattie’s bag in the draughty hall and brought it upstairs, chucking it on the bed for her to rummage through.

  ‘Here!’ She produced two silver packets and handed them over.

  ‘I won’t last,’ he warned, when her hand landed on his cock and began to stroke expertly.

  ‘Make your mind up, then. In me or on you?’

  He closed his eyes. Sometimes her bluntness was overwhelming.

  ‘Tom?’

  ‘In you.’ He ripped off the cover and rolled the condom on.

  ‘You on top, Hattie, and be careful. You remember what happened last time you went riding.’ He helped her up, to straddle him. ‘Take your time,’ he challenged.

  ‘Bet I can last longer than you.’

  ‘No bet.’ He’d be lucky if he lasted another thirty seconds. Thank God there’d been two condoms in Hattie’s bag, not one.

  She was moving with excruciating slowness, up and then back down, engulfing him in her heat. His hands held her waist, revelling in her soft curves. Her body undulated over him in stunning slow motion beauty, as if this above all things was what it had been designed to do. Her face shone with sheer unadulterated joy and it was too much. He came with a shudder and a groan as the pleasure exploded through his body. He let her go and fell back against the headboard, but Hattie grabbed his hand and held it against her so that his thumb was on her clit. Instinct kicked in where his brain was shot, telling him what she needed from him; seconds later, he felt her shuddering around him with the release of her own climax.

  He helped her down until she was sprawled on top of him, the hot stickiness of their sweat joining their bodies. Gradually, his pulse returned to a steady rate and Hattie’s breathing slowed. He slid his hand around her waist and pushed the other into her hair, cradling her head against his chest. An unfamiliar sensation of peace rolled over him and he let it sink in slowly. Perhaps he’d finally laid Lianne’s ghost to rest. He bent his head and pressed a kiss against Hattie’s hair.

  ‘Too heavy,’ she muttered without moving.

  He laughed. ‘You are not. But you won’t be able to move at all tomorrow if I let you sleep like this. Come on.’

  He arranged her on the pillows and went to deal with the condom. By the time he returned, her eyes had shut and he eased himself into the bed, careful not to wake her.

  ‘Again?’ she murmured, rolling over to fit her body against his.

  ‘Thought you were asleep.’ He pressed a kiss against the side of her forehead.

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘Shoulder?’

  ‘What shoulder?’ She smiled up at him. ‘There were two condoms, weren’t there?’

  Chapter Six

  Waking up warm for the first time in a week was the best thing ever. Waking up warm and lying next to a gorgeous guy was off the scale. Hattie couldn’t help the smug grin that spread across her face as she remembered the night before. He’d woken her twice again in the night and each time had been slower, sweeter, softer than the last, but no less satisfying. She snuggled closer to Tom. The shoot was cancelled, but the house was booked for another night and she had the time off work. What better way to spend an unexpected holiday than in bed?

  He rolled over and dropped his arm on her waist, holding her against him.

  ‘Morning.’

  ‘Morning yourself.’ She winked at him and pressed her body against his to check. Oh yes, it was definitely a good morning.

  ‘You are insatiable.’

  ‘That’s a good thing, right?’

  He sighed dramatically. ‘I suppose I can work with it. Except, Hattie – we ran out of condoms last night.’

  ‘I know. It’s okay, I’m on the pill.’ She’d just about been awake enough to think it through, even if they hadn’t had the conversation.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’ He kissed her again and rolled her onto her back.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Hattie? Is it your shoulder?’

  She gritted her teeth. ‘Painkillers have worn off.’

  He clambered carefully off her. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Handbag.’

  He found the bag among their discarded clothes on the floor and handed it to her, while he went to fetch a glass of water. Hattie swallowed her pills and sank back into the pillows, praying for swift relief. It was a few moments before she realised that the clicking sound she heard was Tom taking photos. Of her. Stretched out in agony.

  She could just about raise an eyebrow without pulling any angry muscles. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Just lie there.’ He knelt by the bed, trying a different angle. He flicked the duvet over, covering her breasts.

  ‘Can’t do anything else,’ she grunted.

  ‘Perfect.’

  Hattie closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly, in an attempt to soothe the nerves in her shoulder. In the background, Tom was still playing with his camera. Surely he didn’t mean to put these pictures in his exhibition? No make-up, bed hair, face screwed up in agony. Maybe that was it? He’d said he wanted to break her. He wanted the vulnerable side of her that she buried so deep she barely admitted it existed. Perhaps the pain had brought it out.

  ‘Look at me, sweetheart.’

  She levered her eyelids open and raised her eyes to Tom. He winked and continued snapping away, but the painkillers were beginning to do their job and she relaxed into it.

  ‘Gorgeous.’ He laid the camera aside. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  ‘So have I. Mine involves you, me, and this bed. All day. With more painkillers at regular intervals, obviously.’

  He laughed. ‘You are insatiable.’

  She laid her hand on his chest. ‘You like me like that.’

  He put his hand over hers. ‘I like you every way I can get you. Now, do you want to hear my idea or not?’

  ‘Go on then.’ She sighed dramatically.

  ‘Advertising.’

  She frowned. ‘Huh?’

  He lay down beside her and tangled his fingers into hers in a sweet, possessive gesture that made her smile. ‘Think about it, sw
eetheart. You’re never going to make it as a fashion model.’

  ‘Kick a girl when she’s down, would you?’ The flippant remark was an automatic response. The truth he was forcing her to admit was harder than she’d realised.

  His eyes were smiling and he pinched her bum. ‘You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘Idiot designers are too mean with their fabric.’

  ‘Quite. And brilliant though you are, there’s not enough work as my muse to keep you in false nails.’

  ‘You could pay me more.’ He was right, though, and it was past time that she admitted it. She was never going to make a living as a model. She’d tried every avenue she could think of and she just didn’t measure up.

  ‘Shut up and listen.’

  She mimed a zip across her lips.

  He rolled his eyes. ‘There’s a huge industry out there just waiting for you, Hattie. That smile of yours, the way you captivate people with your eyes, the warmth of your expression – you could sell ice to Eskimos.’

  He was serious. He’d really thought about this. ‘Advertising, huh?’

  He leaned in to kiss her temple. ‘Have you ever tried it?’

  ‘Not really. My agent once sent me for a knitwear audition. The sweaters were too small. Indecently small when they were stretched across my bosom.’

  He grinned and glanced down at her breasts. ‘I’d love to see that.’

  ‘I’ll show you the pictures one day. It’s not pretty.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ His eyes darkened and he slid his hands into her hair. She tilted her face up for his kiss. ‘Smile.’

  ‘Kiss me.’

  ‘Good plan.’

  Each time Tom kissed her, the addiction grew stronger. It wasn’t about the way his lips fitted against hers, or the sparks that followed each stroke of his tongue. Maybe it was the way his eyes held hers right until the moment their lips touched and then slid closed as though he was overcome by his desire.

  Or maybe it was just him.

  He pulled away, leaving her with lips parted and eyes half-lidded. ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘You’re smiling now.’ He held her chin and examined her closely. ‘Perfect. Any fillings?’

  ‘What are you, my dentist?’

  ‘It matters. The less photoshopping they need to do, the better.’

  Oh. Wow, he was really taking this seriously. ‘One. Back molar. Top left.’

  ‘That’s not going to be a problem. Look, let me take some pictures today. We’ll make a different portfolio. Show me your fingernails.’ She’d never seen him so excited before. Passionate on the shoot, yes, but this was different. He was practically bouncing in the bed beside her as ideas came to him.

  ‘What sort of things?’ She held out her hands for him to inspect.

  ‘Everyday activities.’ He snapped his fingers as he thought of different shots. ‘Cooking, cleaning, reading. These are fine for now. You’d need more work to be a hand model.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a hand model.’

  ‘It would be a waste of your best features, certainly.’ He’d stood up and was pulling on his jeans. ‘Wear ordinary clothes,’ he told Hattie.

  ‘I don’t own ordinary clothes.’ She mentally ran through the contents of her suitcase. Nope, nothing bland, black or beige.

  ‘Now you’re just being difficult. You own a pair of jeans and you can borrow one of my shirts.’

  ‘Sexy.’ She tilted her head and gave him an air kiss.

  He laughed, but shook his head. ‘I’ll tell you when I want sexy.’

  ‘Now?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Now we have work to do. I’m going to run you a bath.’

  Hattie stretched out luxuriously in the ancient rolltop bath while Tom strategically arranged the piles of soapy lather around her.

  ‘Just act naturally,’ he told her.

  ‘Right. Because I always have people photographing me in the bath. I feel like Elizabeth Taylor.’ She pouted and blew him a kiss.

  ‘We’re not doing Anthony and Cleopatra. Act like a normal person.’

  She grinned. ‘You got the wrong girl for that. Are you sure I shouldn’t have done my make-up?’

  ‘Completely. The agents want to know what you really look like. They need to see what they’ll have to work with.’

  She lifted a sponge and let it drip over her face. ‘Red-faced and prune-fingered?’

  ‘Glowing and glamorous. Put your good arm up as though you’re shampooing your hair. That’s lovely. Smile at me. Stop sticking your tongue out, Hattie. I am not taking any more pictures of your breasts.’

  She giggled. ‘Fine. I’ll be good. Shall I pretend to wash something?’

  ‘Wash your arms. Keep your body underwater. That’s it. Now point your toes out. Perfect.’

  ‘Are you coming in soon?’

  ‘Do you want to work as a model or not?’

  She sat up and reached her hands towards him. ‘I do, I do! I’ll be good now.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘I am grateful. Really.’ If it worked, it would be brilliant. She could go on doing jobs until she was eighty, advertising stairlifts and Werther’s Originals.

  ‘Turn round. Can you lift the sponge over your shoulder? That’s enough.’ He rearranged her hair, tucking it forward over the other shoulder. ‘Beautiful. Now look back at me. Smile. Wink. And we’re done.’ He put the camera safely away in the bedroom, stripped off his bathrobe and returned. ‘Need any help, sweetheart?’

  ‘Please.’

  He took the sponge she held out to him and began to soap her back. ‘There are still some bruises here, but I can shop them out.’

  ‘Thanks. Can you help me wash my hair?’

  He washed her hair, helped her out of the bath and sent her to get dressed. She’d taken his invitation and helped herself to a blue and white striped cotton shirt. Rolled up over her wrists and hanging down to mid-thigh, it was possibly the sexiest thing he’d seen her in yet. Not to mention the way it stretched over her cleavage.

  ‘Put a T-shirt on. And jeans.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ She gave a mock salute and disappeared to find some clothes from her own room. He should have fetched her suitcase.

  Dressed, he went down to the kitchen. The milk was off, but there was coffee and bread. He put a couple of slices in the toaster and examined the contents of the fridge.

  ‘I think there’s enough for a picnic,’ he said as Hattie joined him. ‘So long as you don’t mind cold sausages and black coffee.’

  ‘I adore cold sausages.’

  ‘Excellent. Now I need some domestic shots. Try to look as though you’re enjoying making breakfast.’

  She picked up a butter knife and pointed it at him. ‘I see your game. This is all a clever plan to get me to do the work while you lounge around taking photos.’

  ‘You got me.’ He tilted his head towards the window. ‘Move round a bit. I want to get more of that light.’

  ###

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Certainly not on a shoot. Admittedly, going out for a walk with Hattie and eating a picnic lunch on the moor hardly felt like work. She’d begun the day posing and pouting, but as he kept the camera on her, she fell into her natural self. The sweet smile when she glanced back over her shoulder at him, the wide grin as she drank in the view from the top of the hill, the moments that were pure, unadulterated Hattie. He shot them all and hoped that the magic was somehow encapsulated in pixel form.

  At the end of the day, they’d ordered an Indian takeaway and were eating it cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire in the grand drawing room. Two prawn baltis so they could both pick out the prawns. Lots of naan bread and papadums. A gloriously fragrant chicken dish, the remnants of which Hattie was gleefully scraping onto her plate.

  ‘This is seriously yummy.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it.’

  ‘I am. I’ve enjoyed everything toda
y, Tom.’

  ‘Me too.’ It was easy to enjoy being with Hattie. She was one of the happiest people he knew. He envied her talent for seeing the positive in any situation and letting the negative wash away. Because of her, he was happy now, in this moment where Hattie was smiling up at him and there was no reason not to reach out and put his hand against her cheek. He’d kiss her and they’d both taste of Indian food and not care.

  Except... ‘I have to get back to London tomorrow.’ Hattie frowned and he automatically stroked his thumb over her brow as if he could smooth out her worries. ‘I’m flying to Milan on Monday morning.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ She grinned. ‘Jet set fashion photographer.’

  His lips twisted. ‘It pays the bills. I have to go to New York after that. Then I’m doing a few days in Morocco for a magazine shoot.’

  Hattie gave a dramatic sigh. ‘You poor thing. Meanwhile, all I have to do is turn up at the same boring office and do the same boring photocopying every single day. Lucky me.’

  He smiled. ‘Maybe not for much longer. I’ll send on the portfolio pictures. And I’ll pass on your details to a friend of mine who works in that side of the business. You could be on the brink of a new career.’ It would suit her, he hoped. She could have fun, be herself, and make the cameras love her.

  ‘Thanks.’ She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t have to do any of that, and I appreciate it.’

  ‘Anything for my muse.’

  Hattie cocked her head thoughtfully.

  ‘Almost anything,’ he revised swiftly, before she could come up with some insane plan that he’d find himself agreeing to. ‘Legal, sane, ethical.’

  She pouted. ‘Well, you’re no fun.’

  ‘I’m sorry about Milan.’

  ‘I don’t mind Milan. It’s New York and Morocco that were the killer blows.’

  He tucked her hair behind one ear. ‘It won’t be any fun, you know.’

  ‘I know. You’ll get all serious and you won’t let anyone flirt with you.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to flirt with me.’

  She raised her eyebrow. ‘Not even me?’

  ‘You are a special case, Hattie Bell.’

  ‘And don’t you forget it.’