Baby for the Tycoon. Emily McKay
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And still it wasn’t enough.
Wrapping her arms around him, she twined her fingers into his hair and pulled him back just enough to ask, “Then why did you stay away?”
He gazed down at her, his eyes foggy with lust. “I don’t know.”
And for the life of her, she didn’t know either. Honest to God, she couldn’t think of one damn reason why they shouldn’t be together. It had nothing to do with Peyton or the marriage. Nothing to do with her family or the rebellious tendencies she’d thought were long dead. This was about them. It had always been about them. And now that she was kissing him—now that his hands were all over her, making her tremble—she couldn’t think of any reason why they should stay apart. When it was so obvious that they were meant to be together.
His lips moved from her mouth down to her neck, leaving a delicate trail of red-hot nibbles. She arched into his lips, all but praying he’d move lower and take her breast into his mouth.
“Oh, Jonathon,” she murmured. “Please…”
She wasn’t sure what exactly she was pleading for. Not when there were so many things she wanted him to do to her. So many places on her body she wanted him to touch and explore. All she knew was she wanted more. All of him.
Then abruptly, he let go of her and stepped away. Her body sagged with mounting desire, her legs limp and barely able to hold her up.
Thank goodness, she didn’t need to support her own weight for long. His hand grasped her bottom, lifted her firmly against him and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. The position was perfect. Exquisite. As if her body had been precisely designed to wrap around his.
Her leggings were thin enough that she could feel the denim of his jeans through the delicate fabric. She felt every seam, every ridge. The hard line of his erection beneath his zipper pressed against the very center of her. She rocked her hips, increasing the pressure against her core, sending fissures of pleasure rocketing through her body.
He groaned low in his throat, still kissing her. Then he pulled his mouth away from hers. “You’re killing me here.”
She grinned, brimming with pure feminine pride. “Am I?” she asked, shifting her hips again, delighting in tormenting him. But the sensation was too divine and she shuddered as well.
He muttered a curse that was half exasperation, half pride. “I shouldn’t do this,” he muttered. “I should be stronger than this, but I can’t…” He nipped at her neck in a primal, animalistic sort of way that sent a shower of pleasure radiating across her skin. “I can’t stay away any longer.”
A second later, she felt him bump against the edge of his desk. He lowered her slowly down the length of his body. She didn’t have even a moment to miss his warmth or the pressure against her sensitive skin, because he reached under the hem of her shirt and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her tights and pulled them down her legs in one smooth movement, stripping away her panties as he did so.
She kicked off her shoes as she stepped out of her leggings, naked from the waist down. Her shirt hit her mid-thigh, but the fabric was gossamer thin and left her feeling scandalously exposed. Standing in her boss’s office, half-naked, trembling with desire.
He stepped back to look at her. The heat in his gaze made her skin prickle. Suddenly she was very aware of her hardened nipples pressing against the thin cotton of her bra. Of the moisture between her legs and the cool air on her thighs.
A feeling of vulnerability started to creep in under the heat of desire. Then she looked up and saw the expression on Jonathon’s face. It was part dumbstruck awe and part reverent glee. Like a little boy standing in front of a Christmas tree, staring at the presents, wondering which one was his.
She brought her hands to the buttons running down the front of her shirt. Then flicked them free, one by one. His gaze stayed glued to the progression of her hands. He didn’t move an inch. Except for his hands, which slowly curled into fists. As if it was all he could do not to reach for her and rip the shirt off her body himself. As if she was his deepest fantasy come to life.
For all she knew, maybe she was.
She wanted to think so. Needed to believe it. Because he was certainly hers.
It wasn’t a fantasy she’d consciously entertained. Never something she dwelled on. Nevertheless, the idea of being with Jonathon, of seeing exactly this expression in his gaze… it had always been there. Right beneath the surface of her thoughts. Niggling at the edge of her awareness. She’d pushed it aside countless times. But now she pulled it from the depths of her mind and let it out into the light of day.
She wanted this. For years she’d wanted this. And now he was about to be hers.
Her hands reached the last button. She slipped it free of the buttonhole, letting the shirt fall open.
With a sweep of his arm, Jonathon knocked everything off his desk except for the blotter. Then he set her down carefully on the desk.
“You can’t imagine the times I thought about doing this.” He pressed a hot kiss to her neck as he nudged her shirt off one shoulder. “Every day.” He nipped at her collarbone, sending hot spikes of desire radiating down through her chest. “I pictured you sitting here.” His fingers popped open the front closure of her bra and peeled back the cups to reveal her bare breasts. “Right on my desk.” Her bra dropped off and she arched her back as he trailed the tip of one finger from her collarbone down to her nipple. “Completely naked.”
With a groan he dropped to his knees in front of her. As if he could no longer resist the temptation she presented. He parted her thighs, moved her bottom right to the edge of the desk and placed his mouth at the very core of her.
He devoured her in tantalizing licks. She dropped back onto her elbows, her eyes almost closed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. He was patient and thorough.
The pleasure was so intense that her eyes nearly rolled back in her head, but she couldn’t make herself look away from the sight of his head between her legs, his close-cropped dark hair in such sharp contrast to her pale, quivering thighs.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he focused his relentless attention on the tiny bundle of nerves so central to her pleasure, stroke after stroke, until she could hardly catch her breath. Then she felt his hand at her entrance. One finger, then two, plunged into her. She dropped onto her back, arching off the desk. As her climax crashed over her, she cried his name.
It felt like more than five years. Maybe his whole life he’d been waiting to see her like this. Spread out before him on the very desk that had so often been between them. She was the most delectable treat he’d ever sampled. Hot and moist with desire. Trembling from the aftereffects of a climax. His name still a whisper on her lips.
Now, here she was. Just like he’d always wanted. And he couldn’t find a damn condom.
He had them here. Somewhere in the desk. Because he’d known for years how much he wanted her. And that some day he might act on it. Hell, there had been no “might” about it. With only the slightest hint of interest from her, he’d have acted on it. She needn’t have stripped naked for him here in his office, though that certainly had been a dream come true.
And now he couldn’t find the damn things.
He pulled one drawer out completely, dumping the contents on the floor. And then he did the same with the next drawer. And the next. Finally he found them, just when he thought the sight of her might make him come in his pants, just when his erection was twitching with the need to be inside of her.
When she saw what he’d been looking for, she was as eager as he was. He ripped open the package with trembling fingers, even as she unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down around his hips. Then a second later, he was inside of her, her legs spread wide, her arms outstretched as she leveraged herself against the desk. Her hips bucked off the surface as he plowed into her over and over again. The feel of her body clenching around him was exquisite.