Olivia tried not to show her fear, but it wasn’t easy. “It seems that you forgot to sign the contract.”
“Hmm? That is a dilemma.” He picked up the pen she’d been using to write the check. “Of course it’s easily solved.”
She’d been in the business world long enough to know when she was being toyed with. She stepped closer to the desk and placed the contract on the top. “But you aren’t going to sign it, are you?”
He twirled the pen through his fingers a few times before he spoke. “The Beaumonts have done their share of begging, don’t you think? Now it’s your turn, Olivia.”
CHAPTER SIX
Deacon was playing a game he had no business playing. Especially when the money he was playing it with wasn’t his own. It was his brothers’ as well. And both Nash and Grayson wanted him to sign the contract and make them millionaires as quickly as possible. They had no desire to be owners of their uncle’s lingerie company. And Deacon didn’t want that either. Which didn’t explain why he’d refused to send the contract back with his uncle’s lawyers. Or why he had shaved his beard, cut his hair, and traveled all the way to California to deliver it in person.
Obviously something had gone a little haywire in his brain. Something that had gotten even worse when he’d seen Olivia’s opulent office, stood looking at the spectacular view, and finally turned to find a spoiled executive in a suit that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe. And now, whether he had a right or not, he wasn’t through making Olivia sweat.
Although she didn’t appear to be sweating too much.
“So I guess you want me to beg,” she said. When he didn’t reply, she shrugged. “Okay. You want me on my knees or will a couple of pretty pleases do?”
He stopped twirling the pen through his fingers and called her bluff. “Knees would be nice.” He expected her to tell him to go to hell. Instead she walked around the desk and, without the slightest hesitation, lifted her sexy-as-hell skirt just enough to flash him a peek of pretty pink garter belt fasteners and thigh-high stockings before kneeling in front of him.
Her piercing green eyes pinned him as she spoke in a voice that was anything but humble. “Please, Deacon. Please sign the contract.”
It was his fantasy all over again. Technically, the desk and office were his. And while Olivia wasn’t exactly in rags, she was on her knees. Which didn’t explain why all the fun had drained right out of the game. Probably because he knew what it felt like to be forced to beg. Knew exactly the feeling of humiliation that came with needing something someone else had.
“Get up,” he said.
“Why?” She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Did I do it wrong, Deacon? Sorry, but I’m not as good at begging as the Beaumonts.”
The pen slipped from his fingers, and the leather chair creaked as he sat up, bringing his face inches from hers. “Shut up.”
“Or what? You won’t sign the contract?” She laughed, her breath coming out in a puff of heat. “We both know that you won’t walk away from fifty million.”
Her condescending attitude took Deacon from angry to flat-out pissed. So pissed that he couldn’t even put together a reply that would wipe the smartassed smirk off her face. That being the case, he chose a nonverbal way to do it.
He kissed her.
Not a soft kiss, but a hard, forceful one that ended with him sucking her plump bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a nip. When he pulled back, Olivia was staring at him with shocked eyes. He expected her anger and didn’t even tense when she lifted her hand. But instead of delivering a stinging, much-deserved slap she slid her hand over the stubble on his jaw before pulling him back for another kiss.
She kissed much better than she begged. He actually believed that she was enjoying it. He sure as hell was. Her lips were hungry and aggressive, her mouth hot and wet, and her tongue slick and teasing.
Deacon opened his legs, and she moved right into the space like a moored ship. Her hands curled around his neck while his curved over her ass, lifting her knees off the plush carpeting. As he squeezed the firm cheeks, his mind ran through the list of things he would need to accomplish before he could be surrounded by the heat of her body. Lift skirt. Remove panties. Unzip jeans. Pull out cock. Get condom—damn.
He pulled away from those scorching lips. Then, just to make sure he didn’t succumb to a pair of desire-drugged eyes, he shoved the caster chair back a good three feet. But even with the added space, it took a while for him to get ahold of his raging hormones.
Olivia didn’t take quite as long.
After only a few blinks, she got to her feet, took two wobbly steps toward him, then hauled off and gave him the stinging slap he’d expected earlier. By the time his ears stopped ringing, she had the pen and contract in hand.
“I did what you asked,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now you sign.”
It was difficult to keep up the smiling-asshole part with a hard-on that could easily have been used as a battering ram, but he did his best. “I didn’t force you to beg. I merely asked. And you deserved it when you weren’t exactly honest about how many shares Uncle Michael left us.”
“The number of shares was in the contract.”
“True. But you didn’t explain that we owned the company.”
“You don’t own it. You own controlling interest.”
“Which we both know is the same thing.” He glanced around. “So this would be my office?”
Her eyes narrowed as she enunciated every word. “This. Is. My. Office.”
Now that he was back in control, he asked the questions that had been circling his brain. “So what horrible thing did you do to get cut out of Uncle Michael’s will completely? Forget to put your napkin on your lap? Burp at a dinner party? Get caught showing someone your panties?”
The look that entered her eyes was a combination of anger and hurt. “I didn’t do anything. And I wasn’t cut out completely.”
Deacon already knew this. After his father had gotten the lawyers high on the moonshine he always carried in his trunk, they had become loose-lipped. He knew exactly what his uncle had left Olivia and her mother. According to the lawyers, the value of the estate was the same amount she was willing to give Deacon and his brothers.
He studied her. “Sorry, but I just don’t get it. If you were Uncle Michael’s beloved stepdaughter, why wouldn’t he just leave you the shares in the company? Didn’t he know how much you love French Kiss?”
She turned away. “He knew.” A buzzer went off, and Olivia reached out and pressed a button on the phone. “Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt.” Kelly’s voice came through the speaker. “But your mother is on line one and says that it’s an emergency.”
Olivia’s shoulders tightened. “Thank you, Kelly.” She glanced back at Deacon. “Do you mind getting out of my chair?”
“Not at all.” He got up and slid the chair over.
If looks could kill, he would be six feet under. Which made his smile even broader. He liked this feisty Olivia much better than he liked the poised businesswoman. Or maybe he just liked knowing that he could get under her skin.