Engaged with the Boss. Elle James
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for six years dissolved into the seething inferno of molten heat. Her hand cupped his, pressing him deeper.
He stroked in and out, dragging her juices up to the center of her pleasure, gently teasing her to the very edge of sanity, pushing her past any defenses she’d so carefully erected between boss and employee.
She couldn’t remember her name, much less why this wasn’t a good idea. All Jolie could do was live for the next moment, the next touch of his fingers, his lips, the broad length of his erection.
Intense sensations built to a crescendo, spilling from her core to flood throughout her body. She jerked, writhed and called his name aloud as she clung to his arms, her fingers digging into his skin.
Still riding the wave of lust, she wanted him inside her, to fill her, complete her. With desperate hands, she dragged him closer.
He nudged her legs apart and slid between them.
Jolie cupped his staff and guided him to her opening, slick with her juices.
With the tip of his shaft pressing into her, he paused. “We can’t.”
Jolie whimpered, too entrenched in passion to understand what he was saying. “What?”
“Not without protection.”
“Oh.” Her fingers shook against his chest. “Do you have some?” She didn’t, and her body didn’t give a damn about it at this point. Every nerve ending screamed for him to ram into her, damn the consequences.
He lurched to his feet, let his trousers slide the rest of the way to the ground. Finally naked.
Jolie’s mouth went dry. Every fantasy she’d had of him naked didn’t come close to the stunning reality.
He was a Greek god, his body tanned, toned and rippling with muscles.
With her skirt bunched around her middle, her legs open and her hair in wild disarray around her head, self-doubt flooded her. How could a man who looked like that even consider making love to a toadstool like her?
She sat up, drawing her legs together, pushing her skirt down over her crotch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away.” Jolie pushed to her feet, her arms crossing over her bare breasts, her gaze avoiding his, as she attempted to locate her missing bra.
His hands descended on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.” He sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes. “You’re so beautiful that I’m about to explode.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” His fingers slid down over her arms and his hand guided her hand to his member. “I didn’t get this way just because. You’re my inspiration.”
“I am?” For a well-spoken executive assistant, she sounded like a complete idiot. Jolie didn’t care. The words he spoke warmed her inside and out.
His eyebrows drew together. “But if you want me to stop, I will.” He ran his free hand through his hair and dragged in another deep breath. “I don’t know how, but I will. Just say the word.”
She stared up into his eyes, her normal emerald-green gaze as dark as a primeval forest. Then her fingers tightened around his girth and she stepped closer. “Don’t stop now.”
He let out a sharp stream of air, bent and scooped her into his arms.
Caught off guard, she squealed, loving the feel of his naked body against her skin. He strode across the wide expanse of his living room and through a door into a spacious bedroom. Centered against one wall stood a king-size bed. Without pausing, he closed the distance between the door and the bed in five long strides. There he set her on her feet and he reached into the nightstand, removing a strip of foil packages.
His gaze turned feral, his mouth tilting upward at the corners. “I hope I have enough.”
Jolie laughed shakily as she unbuttoned her skirt, her fingers twisting in the fabric, suddenly shy about standing in front of him with nothing on. She was so darned plain and pale, not tanned and beautiful like the rich crowd he hung around with.
His gaze captured hers and he tossed the condoms to the bed. “Lose it.”
“Pardon?” She glanced up at him, her breath caught in her throat.
“The skirt.” He gripped the waistband, his blue eyes darkening to smoky gray. “On second thought, let me.”
Jolie lifted her hands out of the way as Devin slid the skirt down over her hips, dropping to his knees in front of her. He guided her backward until the backs of her legs touched the bed and she sat.
Still on his knees, Devin moved in between her thighs and draped them over his shoulder.
Incapable of breathing, Jolie’s eyes widened and she watched as he trailed kisses along the tender insides of her thighs. When his mouth reached her center, his tongue thrust inside her.
She gasped and fell back against the duvet, a barrage of electrical shocks originating from where he touched her and shooting to every cell in her body.
He licked his way up to the sensitive nub, sucking it into his mouth and pulling gently. Large, warm fingers slid inside her, first two, then three.
Jolie writhed and twisted against the mattress, her own fingers digging into his hair, dragging him closer.
As far as she was concerned, she’d died and floated to heaven, the rise to the top a sharp climb. When she pitched over the edge, she drifted away into an abyss of pleasure so intense the rest of the world no longer existed.
Devin rose to his feet, wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust into her. With his hands holding her hips, he settled into a breath-catching rhythm, riding her until his body stiffened. He threw back his head and roared her name.
Jolie couldn’t remember a man ever roaring her name aloud while making love. The experience was phenomenal and extremely erotic.
As they both returned to earth, Jolie scooted back on the bed until her head rested against the pillows.
Devin slid in beside her, his hand cupping a breast. Within minutes he slipped into a deep sleep.
Her body still quaking with energy, Jolie couldn’t relax. If Devin was awake, she’d demand a repeat performance. But the poor man hadn’t slept in days. She couldn’t bear to wake him just for a little more of the most explosively satisfying sex she’d ever had.
As Jolie lay in the shadows, she studied Devin’s face, tranquil in slumber. In some ways he looked like a little lost boy; in other ways, he could never be mistaken for little or lost, or a boy for that matter.
For six long years, Jolie had dreamed of just such a night with the boss. Now that she’d lived the dream what was she supposed to do? Lie there until morning and suffer the embarrassment of the morning-after? What if he regretted making love to her? What if this brief, powerful interlude ruined their working relationship?
As she lay there with Devin’s hand warm against her breast, every scenario she could imagine pinged around her brain. Each outcome was worse than the last.
Before long, she’d talked herself into a mild panic attack, one thing forging through her tumbled thoughts. She had to get out of his condo. The sooner the better.
With a long look at the man she’d loved since the first day she came to work for him, Jolie slid from the bed and gathered her things. She slung her clothing on in the living room of the warehouse condo, not taking the time to button and zip her jean skirt. Her panties were ruined, so she’d have to go commando until she reached her apartment.
Mostly dressed and eager to leave without waking Devin, Jolie slipped out the door a little after midnight.
At the bottom of the staircase leading up to his condo, she turned toward the parking lot, pausing briefly to zip and button her skirt.
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