by Amelia Wilde
“You sure you don’t want to get that?”
“It can wait. Finish what you were saying.”
“Their estimates on the area of influence were too high, but I think there’s a way to salvage this. We’ll need to readjust some of our own targets, but it’s doable.”
“Hard numbers?”
Connor shakes his head. This business with the media company is taking longer than I’d like, but I’m going to get it right.
“OK. Let me know as soon as they come in.”
“Will do.”
He gets up from his seat across from my desk and leaves, whistling a tune I don’t recognize. The second he’s out of sight I snatch my phone from my desktop.
My heart turns over. The message is from a number I don’t know, but it says,
I’m getting back to you. Where should we meet? :) -Angelica
I save the number into my contacts and then type a reply.
The Purple Swan. Give them my name at the main entrance. 8:00.
Then I follow it up with the address, my nerves jittery. I never get jittery.
The Swan will be perfect. I haven’t been going regularly for almost a year—things with Brandon, Inc. required more of my attention, and then there was Emerald—but I don’t think twice about it. It’s an exclusive club that offers everything: private rooms, dancing, and world-class dining. The clientele is made up of New York City’s richest, and they’re quick to kick out people who disturb the peace.
Angelica is early. I know because I come through a side entrance to the lobby at 7:50 on Thursday and she’s already waiting, stunning in a black dress that makes the one she was wearing in the elevator look like something you’d wear to clean the house. She stands with her back straight, looking toward the front entrance with a little smile that fades, then returns, then fades again.
My cock hardens at the sight of her. Everything about her is pure perfection, from the way she’s pulled her hair back into a delicate twist to the way she sways, ever so slightly, on her high heels.
I allow myself to appreciate her for as long as I can stand it, and then I approach, sliding my hand across the small of her back as soon as I reach her. This is going to be bare skin by the end of the night. She stiffens, then turns toward me. When her eyes meet mine, her smile is bright enough to power the entire city.
“Jett Brandon,” she says, looking me up and down. “You snuck up on me.”
“I could say the same about you. What were you doing, lurking in that elevator?” My tone is light and teasing, but some strange emotion flashes in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” I continue, laughing. “I’m glad you happened to be there at just that moment.” As I speak, I slide my hand a little lower, down to the very top of the curve of her ass, and she doesn’t pull away. In fact, I feel her lean into it, ever so slightly.
“So,” she says, her smile a slow burn. “What’s the deal with this place? Are we eating? Dancing?”
“Are you hungry?”
Angelica bites her lip, her eyes dancing. “I could eat.” She lets her eyes travel down over my body again. Damn. I might not be the only one who wants more than dinner, which is going to make taking her home an easy task.
“I reserved us a table in one of the more private dining rooms,” I say, removing my hand from her back. A little frown crosses her face when my touch fades, but I’m instantly offering her my arm. She slides her hand into the crook of my elbow, and I’m sure she doesn’t intend to, but she gives my bicep a little squeeze.
“Nice,” she says softly, almost to herself, and I laugh out loud. So she did mean it, after all.
We banter over a five-course meal, Angelica ratcheting up the heat every time she speaks. Apparently the comment I made about not letting a woman control my life didn’t faze her.
“I’m very particular about pillows,” she says during a discussion we’ve somehow launched into about thread counts and sheets. Then a slow smile spreads across her face. “You get a bad pillow, and you can’t get comfortable on your back, or on your front....”
“It’s the same with women,” I answer with a straight face.
She jokes and prods, sparring with me until finally I feel like I’m about to burst into flames. That’s when she stands up, tosses her napkin onto the linen tablecloth, and looks at me with a wicked expression. “Did you mention dancing?”
I underestimated her in the elevator. She’s a conquest I want to capture, that’s for damn sure, but now I think we’re playing the same game.
“You mentioned dancing.” I follow her lead. There’s no need to wait for the bill to arrive—all of this will be added to my tab.
“I did, didn’t I?” She takes my hand, pulling me toward the doorway of the dining room.
Just outside the threshold, she pauses, listening. The Swan has invested heavily in soundproofing technologies, so in the hallway there’s only the faint thrum of dance music.
Angelica takes a few more steps, her straight spine emphasizing her breasts, then turns back to me, her hand still in mine. “Don’t keep it a secret,” she says. “Where’s that music coming from?” As she speaks, she steps closer, and her scent—flowery and fresh—wafts over me. We’re just holding hands, but it’s fucking electric.
I take in a breath to answer, but all I can think of is covering her mouth with mine, tasting her sweetness. Her eyes are ocean blue in the low light of the hallway. Her face is inches away, and as I look into her eyes, her expression shifts from playful to passionate.
“We could dance,” I say, my voice husky, “or we could....” I put my free hand on her waist, drawing her in another couple of inches, and then I lean down to whisper in her ear. “...do something more exciting.”
I can feel her breathing start to speed up as I speak, and by the time the final word comes out of my mouth she’s almost panting. We’re so close. So fucking close—
Without a word of warning, she turns her head and our lips collide, lust igniting every nerve ending in my body. I pull her against me, hard, and I guide her backward until her back is pressed up against the opposite wall. Fuck, she tastes amazing, the way she opens her mouth and lets me explore her has me rock-hard and dizzy.
I only pull back when she gasps for breath, and that’s when I show my first sign of weakness.
“We could dance. Or you could come home with me. Right now.” It’s not really a question.
“Please.” Her voice is heavy with desire.
“This is one night.”
Now it’s her turn to lean in. “One night is all I need.”
Six words, and I’m rushing to get her home.
Chapter Seven
Angelica
There’s so much heat sizzling between us that it’s all I can do not to tear my clothes off in the back of Jett’s Mercedes. I’ve almost lost sight of the plot. Where is the line between seducing him to carry out Charlie’s plan and seducing him because my body craves him?
He stops kissing me just long enough to bark a single word at his driver—“Penthouse”—and then his strong hands are all over me in the backseat as the driver pulls the car into traffic and steers us across town to his penthouse.
I’m supposed to be focused on the thumb drive, on uploading the program, on following Charlie’s orders, but all I want to do is to strip off Jett’s clothes and finally see what he’s hiding under his custom suit. It’s going to be magnificent.
I push into him when he wraps his hands around the side of my face, locking us together in a kiss so deep and fierce that it’s like we’re drowning and the only thing that can save us is to devour the other one’s mouth. He’s controlling, demanding, and I fucking love it, but I press against those boundaries, take my turn exploring his lips, his tongue dancing with mine, backing him up against the door of the car. He can’t voice his arrogance when my lips are sealed over his.
I’m an instant from hiking up my dress and straddling him when the car glides to a stop beside the curb. Jett doesn’t hesit
ate—just throws the door open and pulls me out behind him, not speaking a word to the driver, not a word to anyone.
His arm is secured tightly around my waist, rushing us to the elevators, and it’s then, without his lips against mine, that I feel another wave of guilt.
From what I learned over dinner, Jett is richer than sin, which explains why people like Charlie want to steal his information, take his money. A billionaire won’t miss a hundred thousand dollars. Jett is in charge of his family corporation, Brandon, Inc., and the man never wants for anything. I’ve always chosen men who were more easygoing, more humble, but Jett Brandon is neither of those things. He takes what he wants, and the first time we saw each other in that elevator, he decided he wanted me.
He has no idea that I’m a complete fraud. I had no idea that by the end of tonight, I’d want more from him than access to his computer.
That’s a lie. How could anyone look at a man that gorgeous and not want to rip his clothes off?
I want to unbuckle his belt and slide his pants down over his legs, yank his shirt over his head, and I wish I could do it solely out of my own interest. I played the evening to perfection, letting him see me as a small-town girl making her way in the big city. I made absolutely certain that I didn’t get too hung up on his money. I asked him about his life, not his fortune, because I can imagine that a man like Jett has plenty of gold diggers clinging on to him everywhere he goes as it is. And above all, I made it abundantly clear that I wanted to sleep with him.
He rushes us across the lobby toward the bank of elevators and jabs a finger into the call button, my purse dangling from my fingertips. It’s all I can do to calm my racing heart. This is just sex. And sex is your ticket to freedom.
That’s what I have to keep telling myself. Somewhere, Charlie is waiting for my report, and if I fail, it’s my brother who suffers.
Not to mention me.
It’s a cold dose of reality, but then the elevator car arrives and we step inside it. It’s empty. The moment the doors close, Jett’s hands are on my waist, on the small of my back, pulling me in, and he kisses me again, a slow build that makes it impossible to think of anything dark, wrong. That kiss lasts until we’re inside his penthouse. I’m lost in my own lustful ache for him, for his body, to feel filled.
It’s been too long.
He’s moving us down a hallway, and at the end of it there is a door that opens up into a massive bedroom, big enough for a king-size bed at one end, perfectly made up, and a living room at the other. Jett hesitates, choosing, then turns toward the bed.
On the way across the room, he strips off his jacket and shirt, his pants fall to the floor, and then he’s undoing the clasp of my dress, reaching down, tugging it over my head, revealing the deep purple bra and panty set I bought yesterday just for this occasion.
He drinks in my exposed skin, then traces a finger over my collarbone, leaning down to kiss the skin of my neck. He takes my hair in his fist and undoes the clip holding it in place, and when it falls over my shoulders he brushes it back, gripping it lightly, and kisses me so hard that my knees go weak.
But it’s not enough. It’s not enough for me. I pull back and drag my mouth down the front of his muscled chest, and then I go lower, leaving a trail of kisses down… down… down until I’m on my knees in front of him, tugging down his boxers to reveal his thick, steely, pulsing cock.
I forget all about Charlie.
I wrap one of my hands around the base of it and take him into my mouth. If he’s going to protest, it’s going to be now, but his hips come toward me a fraction of an inch and I start to work my tongue around the length of him, licking and swirling and sucking.
Jett wraps his fingers through my hair, a gentle pressure forming on the back of my head, and it can’t be more than twenty seconds before he growls, deep and low, then steps away releasing himself from my mouth. He pulls me up to my feet and then scoops me effortlessly into his arms.
“I want more of you,” he says in a hoarse whisper as he walks me across to the bed. He tears away my bra and panties and spreads me out across the duvet.
“Take it,” I say, tilting my head back, raising my hips just a little. “Take it.”
Chapter Eight
Jett
I can’t keep my hands off of Angelica.
I don’t want to keep my hands off her.
So I don’t.
Fucking her is the only thing in the world I want to do. At least that’s the only thing I’m going to admit to wanting right now, even though, in the back of my mind, it occurs to me that I’d be fine if the only entertainment left on earth was looking into her eyes.
Every second her lips are on mine magnifies the electric need I have for her, this woman I’ve known for only a total of four hours, and she meets my every move with more passion. I thought Emerald was the fieriest woman I’d ever met. Next to Angelica, she’s an extinguished candle.
The one thing I know is that I can’t get attached. When morning comes, I’m going to have to dismiss how perfect it feels to have my hands on Angelica’s curves, my mouth on her mouth, how she yields and attacks at exactly the right moments, how I have never kissed a woman like this, and I’ve never wanted for a woman like I want for Angelica.
I could lose myself in Angelica.
It would be a disaster if that happened. I see it now—Emerald was nothing more than a pretty distraction. I can’t afford to let this earth-shattering woman take control of my life, my world, because the house of cards I’ve built would come tumbling down. Emerald showed me how easy it can be to lose your grip. It won’t happen again.
But that’s not something I can think about right now, not when Angelica’s delicious body is underneath my hands, sensuous and soft, not when it feels like my clothes are sandpaper against my skin, and not when she kneels down on the plush carpet of my bedroom and takes me into her mouth.
I almost lose it when she expertly swirls her tongue around my rock-hard shaft, holding me in place with one hand. If I had forever with her, I’d let her do this for days, but all I’m guaranteed is tonight—and I’ll be damned if I let her suck me off right at the beginning.
I force myself to step back, and her face tightens. “I want more of you,” I say, pulling her to her feet, pulling her into my arms. Her body relaxes into my strength. She might as well be weightless.
I’m at the bed in four steps, perching her on the edge and tearing at the clasps of her bra, stripping her panties down her legs, and then I guide her head back until she’s completely open on the comforter, the sight of her lighting every one of my last nerves on fire, her lithe legs, the heated slickness between them, and her flat belly sloping down to her hips, which she raises toward me in offering.
“Take it,” she says, her voice sultry and soft. “Take it.”
So I do.
I climb up over her and cover her mouth with mine, tasting her deeply, slowly, until she’s writhing underneath me, her hands tight on my shoulders, her breaths coming hard and fast.
With one hand, I gather both her wrists and pin her arms above her head and she gasps, one sharp breath, as I leave a wet trail down the side of her neck to her collarbone, then lick it. Her skin is so sweet, so soft. With my knee, I knock her legs farther apart and she tests my grip on her wrists, smiling a little when I don’t ease up.
“Beg.”
“Please.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“Please.” Angelica bucks her hips against mine, tries to wrap one leg around my waist. I feel her hot wetness against my skin.
I lean down, whispering into her ear, “Please what, Angelica?”
“Please. Fuck. Me.” An emphasis on every word, an ache in her voice—she’s not playing a game.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” I tease, and then I line my cock up with her slit and slam it home.
She’s soaking, ready, so there’s no resistance—I’m in to the hilt on the first stroke and she moans, her muscle
s clenching around me, tightening, tightening. I piston myself in and out, in and out. Angelica meets every thrust. Her hands are above her head, her breasts straining to make contact with my chest, and I let her struggle against me until she’s panting, gasping.
The second her hands are free they’re on my shoulders and she throws her weight against my body. I don’t have to let her win but I do, and we roll over. Straddling me, she lines herself up and plunges down over my cock, her hips working in small circles.
It drives me absolutely fucking wild.
I let her fuck me for as long as I can stand it, and then I wrap my hands on either side of her hips and help drive her down even harder. Her head is thrown back, and her hair bounces with every thrust.
“Please,” she pleads again, through gritted teeth.
This time, I don’t make her beg.
I wait three more thrusts and then remove one of my hands from her hips, sliding it around to the front, then trace my thumb from her belly button all the way down to her cleft.
When my thumb makes contact with her clit, she comes with a cry of pure sexual satisfaction, her back arching, hands digging in so she doesn’t fall.
Her muscles are still spasming powerfully around my cock when I follow her lead. It’s been months, years, since I came so hard. The release is so strong that my vision blurs and my heart skips a beat.
When I come down again, Angelica folds forward, tucking her head against my shoulder, and I rub her back while her shuddering breaths grow calm and even.
Just before I follow her into sleep, when the day’s defenses are nonexistent and all of my muscles are deeply relaxed, a thought floods my mind.
I never want her to leave.
Chapter Nine
Angelica
I wake up with a start sometime in the middle of the night.
