This close, I can feel her body heat. I can smell her lavender scent. I breathe in deep. It’s going to make me hard now, anywhere I go. A lavender candle. An air freshener. My cock will turn to steel because it wants inside this woman.
“Is that a yes?” I ask.
Her blue eyes flash. “There’s no way in hell.”
“Not even for Chef Bautista?”
“Not for any chef in the world. I can’t even tell if you’re joking right now. Or just playing some kind of prank. This is a business transaction.”
“Our marriage would be a business transaction.”
She laughs, a wild sound. I want her to make that sound with my tongue on her clit. “Let’s assume I’m even contemplating this idea. Are you suggesting a marriage in name only?”
“Oh darling. We’re going to have sex.” I glance down at her. That sweet little black pantsuit that she uses as a shield, as if anything could cover her innate sensuality. Every man who meets with her in this conference room wants to spread her naked on the shining wood table. Myself included. “I suppose a test run is in order. A spreadsheet with numbers that add up.”
“What?” Her blue eyes are clouded. She’s affected by how close we are. She feels the attraction the same as I do. We’re both just animals beneath the pretty trappings, and her instincts warn her body to prepare itself.
Her pale skin turns pink. I want to see where else she’s pink. I settle for her mouth.
A light brush of my lips over hers.
And then again.
I knew we’d have chemistry, but I’m still surprised by the heat that streaks through me. The hunger. It demands satisfaction. Here. Now. More.
I press harder, showing her how it will be between us. I’m commanding in all areas of my life—business and personal. And definitely sex.
“Should I make a table of your lips? Should I draw a graph of your taste?” I murmur to her, probing deeper, questing with my tongue, searching for that feminine flavor. There she is. She holds herself very still as if she’s never been kissed.
Her soft cry sounds almost lost, and then she tentatively kisses me back.
This was only supposed to be a test. For her. For myself. To see if we were compatible, to prove to her that we were. A sense of unassailable rightness propels me forward, until I’m nibbling on her lush bottom lip, biting down so I can hear her high-pitched moan of protest.
I’m not touching her anywhere, only my mouth to hers. My hands are at my side, turned into fists so I don’t grab her. She’s the one who grabs me. Her little hands pull at my suit jacket, tugging, tugging. The warmth of her body seeps through the wool and linen.
She gasps and pulls away, cheeks flushed. “This is in-in-inappropriate.”
I’m gratified by that small stutter, proof that she’s affected. Because I’m bloody well affected. I thought I was hard when the elevator doors opened and I got a glimpse of that tight body encased in a sophisticated suit. Now I’m so erect I’m aching.
“If this shocks you, wait until our wedding night.”
“We’re not getting married.”
“Don’t fool yourself. I could have your pantsuit off, legs spread wide, my tongue in your pretty little cunt if I wanted. You’d come loud enough that your father would hear it down the hallway.”
Her blue eyes are midnight with arousal. “Then why don’t you?”
Eager girl. I’m going to enjoy her. “We live in a modern world, but I’m a traditional man. The first time we have sex will be on our wedding night.”
She scoffs. It would be more convincing if her pupils weren’t dilated. If her breath wasn’t coming fast. She’s the dictionary definition of aroused. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re lovely. Beautiful. Divine. The first time I saw you, I wanted you.”
A roll of her pretty eyes. “I bet you say that at every investor meeting.”
That makes me grin. “I didn’t fall in love until I found out you’d made the spreadsheets, though. Precise. Smart. You gave me what I wanted before I knew I needed it.”
“I should call security. I should have you thrown out of the building.”
“You won’t.”
She skirts the table, putting it between us, using it as a shield. “Sit,” she says, her voice imperious. She’s used to men who obey her. And for now, I will. She’s not mine yet. Not mine to control, to fuck, to play with.
I sit down in a conference chair and lean back, hands behind my head. “Are you ready to discuss the terms of our merger?”
Hands smooth her jacket. She gives a little shake of her head. She’s trying to compose herself. As if there’s a chance in hell I’m going to write a check and walk away. The black padfolio she brought sits in front of me now. We’ve switched places. I open it and turn the pages. It’s a printout of the proposal she sent me, with her notes scribbled in the margins. Ideas she wants to emphasize. Talking points. A few numbers written down.
My eyebrows go up. “That low? You must be desperate for money.”
She glares at me. “I should call my father. Make him negotiate with you.”
“He’d sell you to me in a heartbeat. I think you know that.”
“Then my brother.”
“And watch your precious hotel chain go down in flames. You care too much for that.”
“How do you know what I care about?”
“You left Vegas. You left the entire club scene. One minute you’re getting photographed in short skirts and diamonds. Then Bradley Hotels almost fails. Everyone knew about that one. And you’re wearing suits and running numbers all day. You care.”
“A hundred thousand people work for this company.”
“Isabella Bradley, a philanthropist. The gossip rags will be disappointed in you.”
“I’m not running a charity. I’m running a business. And you’re wasting my time.”
There’s a pen in the padfolio. I pick it up where she’s scribbled down a number so low that she’s clearly desperate. I write a number five times that large. Enough to get her interest. Then I push it across the table. We’re negotiating for more than just the company. Her body. That’s what I want, and when I want something, I’ll pay anything to get it.
Her eyes widen when she reads it.
Then she puts her head in her hands. “This is a disaster.”
I could give her some false platitude about how being married to me won’t be that bad. But the truth is it’ll be worse than she thinks. “A hundred thousand people will keep their jobs. Your family legacy remains intact. Your mother can remain on the board of the natural science museum. She can continue her generous endowment of the arboretum.”
“Why would you even want to marry me?”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. Every man on the planet wants to marry you. I’m the one who actually has the balls to propose to you.”
Her expression turns sardonic. “This? A proposal? I don’t see a ring. And you’re certainly not down on one knee.”
“My methods are unconventional. You’ll find that’s true in many areas of my life. But make no mistake—I’m not pulling a prank. I’m dead serious.”