Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation (15 page)

Would it be crass to mention it tonight? During their little sex getaway? If she wanted to get him in front of Noah in a casual setting, then she was going to have to move fast and hope he hadn't locked up his week already with other obligations.

She looked up when a knock sounded at her door. Brock stood against the door frame, a smile easing the newly developed lines at his eyes and mouth.

“Hey, we wanted to get together at Rosa after work today. You're the star and we want to toast with copious amounts of alcohol. It will be a good pep rally for the presentation on Friday.”

Her stomach rolled into a tight ball. The last thing she wanted was a raucous night at Rosa with the work gang. Usually she'd be all over it. The Maddox employees regularly hung out at the upscale martini bar just a block away. It's where they met to celebrate, commiserate or just take a break from a hellish workday.

The last celebration they'd staged there had been for Jason after he'd landed the Prentice account. Now Brock was lining up the chorus for her.

Her cheeks tightened in pleasure even as her heart sank at the idea of ditching Evan after agreeing to meet him. He'd
think her the worst sort of coward even if it was the smart thing to do.

“I'd love to, Brock, but I already have plans for the evening. Important plans,” she added after a pause. “Besides, I'd rather not jinx myself before going into the presentation. It's not in the bag—yet—but I certainly plan to perform a slam dunk on Friday.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I understand. We'll go and just call it a pre-planning session. It's as good an excuse as any to throw back a few. But if you land this, just be prepared for a victory celebration to end all victory celebrations.”

She grinned. “Oh, you know it. I can't wait. I'll totally hold you to it.”

“Okay, take care and see you tomorrow.” He turned to go but stopped and turned back once more. “Oh, and, Celia, if I haven't already said it, thank you. You did a magnificent job. I doubted your approach at first, but you came through in spades.”

Her heart sped up and she curled her fingers until her nails dug into her palms. It was all she could do not to stand up and throw her arms in the air complete with an obnoxious yell.

“Thank you for your trust,” she said as calmly as possible.

With a short salute, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Celia grinning like a loon.

Promptly at a quarter to five, Celia headed down the elevator—fifteen minutes before quitting time so she'd miss the majority of her coworkers. She didn't want to explain why she wasn't joining them at Rosa.

Her apartment wasn't far, and usually she'd enjoy driving her Beamer with the top down—it really was a sassy, smooth handling dream machine—but today she was just impatient to be home, and the traffic was driving her mad.

When she reached her apartment, she recognized the car out front and the driver standing on the curb beside it. With
a groan, she slowed to a stop on the street and rolled down her window.

“I'll only be a moment,” she called.

The driver smiled, tipped his hat and said, “No hurry, Miss Taylor. Take your time.”

She maneuvered into her parking spot and dashed inside, ready to do battle. She hadn't missed Evan's reaction to her sexy, feminine lingerie. It was her one indulgence or what she deemed a silly indulgence since her sex life was so staid in the last few years that no one but her had a prayer of ever seeing what her underwear looked like.

Hopping on one foot as she stepped out of her clothing, she went over to her drawer to find the most sinful set of lingerie she owned. She settled on pink. What was more feminine or soft looking than pink? Even growing up with a hoard of boys hadn't erased the girly from her. And since she was a redhead, wearing pink clothing wasn't an option. But pink underwear she could do.

Unsure of whether she'd return to her apartment before going to work the next day—and she did like to be prepared for anything—she threw an outfit into an overnight bag along with her toiletries and a lavender bra and panties.

She did a quick check of her messages and then did something she never did. She turned off her BlackBerry and tucked it into her overnight bag. Tonight was hers. She needed no reminders from the business world. If she was going to indulge in fantasy, she was going whole hog.

She locked up and hurried out her door to the street where the driver waited. He ushered her into the backseat and they drove away into traffic.

It amused her how exciting she found the whole experience. She could be a mistress at the beck and call of her über-wealthy benefactor, discreetly bundled into a private car and rushed to meet him at an undisclosed location.

“Get it together, Celia,” she muttered.

Lord, but she did lose all her brain cells when it came
to this man. If she wasn't careful, she'd throw away all her independence and start greeting him at the door every evening, wearing a kitchen apron with oven mitts and a piping-hot casserole dish.

Oddly but the image wasn't all that distasteful. For the first few seconds anyway. She laughed outright and it had the effect of someone popping her thought bubble with a sharp pin.

The driver looked up in the rearview mirror, and she valiantly tried to look back with a straight face. If he only knew the absurd thoughts she was processing.

If she was truly the naughty girl of her fantasies, she would have ridden over with only a trench coat covering her sexy lingerie. Then when she walked into Evan's room, she could discard the coat and watch his reaction.

The idea certainly had merit, and if she ever received another invitation such as tonight, she'd give it serious consideration.

A few minutes later, the driver pulled up to the sumptuous hotel Evan resided in when he was in town, bypassed the main entrance and stopped at the second pull in where her door was immediately opened by one of the hotel staff.

Maybe Evan had his own entrance. The thought amused her, but then he had so much money, it wouldn't surprise her.

She was immediately met by concierge and was handed a keycard.

“Mr. Reese wishes for you to go right up,” the older man said.

She blushed from head to toe. She knew well what it looked like. Like she was some hooker or mistress—precisely what she'd imagined on her way over—all set to have a clandestine meeting.

She took the key card, murmured her thanks, and shot past the doorman and into the small hallway leading directly to the elevators. Thankfully she bypassed the lobby entirely. It
seemed like everyone in the world knew what she was here for.

In the elevator, she inserted her key and punched the button for the top floor. She was whisked to the top in no time at all and stepped into the eerily quiet hallway. There were only a few doors. The rooms must be huge because she only counted four doors total. Evan's was on the very end, and she took a deep breath before inserting the key into the slot.

When she opened the door and stepped inside, she immediately saw Evan standing across the room, drink in hand, his eyes fixed on her. He'd been waiting. She could sense his impatience and see the triumph in his expression when she closed the door behind her.

She stood there, unmoving, as he put his drink aside and crossed the room in just a few, long strides.

“You came,” he murmured.

He swept her into his arms and kissed her. He wasn't gentle or even particularly careful. Their bodies came together in a clash she felt all the way to her bones.

“Did you think I wouldn't?” she asked when she was finally able to draw a breath.

His eyes glittered, and his throat worked up and down as if he was trying to hold on to his control.

“If you hadn't, I was prepared to go and drag you out of your apartment.”

All her concerns fell away. Nothing else mattered but the intense need they felt for each other.

“Next time I won't come. I have my own set of caveman fantasies wherein the Neanderthal drags me off to his cave.”

He growled low in his throat and before she could react, he had her in his arms and was striding toward the bedroom.

T
hey made it as far as the dresser. Evan slid her onto the polished surface of the wood and leaned in until she straddled his hips.

“I swore this time I'd savor first,” he said against her mouth. “Dammit, but when I see you, all reason flies out the door.”

She hooked her legs around his back and pulled him into the V of her groin.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“Never a woman,” he murmured as he swept hungrily over her mouth.

Her excitement mounted as Evan ripped at her shirt. He shoved it down over her shoulders, trapping her arms to her sides. His hands smoothed up her bare skin to her shoulders. He gripped her so hard, she knew she'd wear his prints.

His breath blew hot over her chin and then her jaw. He kissed a line to her ear then sucked the lobe between his teeth.

Shivers overtook her. Delicate little goose bumps dotted her flesh until she trembled uncontrollably.

He stepped back, his hands falling to the waistband of her pants. His fingers hung in the snap and he stood there staring at her heaving chest.

“You're so beautiful.”

He raised one finger to hook in the strap of her bra. He ran it up then down, and he grazed the tip over the swell of her breast.

“I love the lingerie.”

She leaned back on the dresser, resting her palms on the top to give him a better glimpse of her cleavage.

“You're absolutely merciless, aren't you?” he murmured.

She smiled and arched invitingly until the barest hint of her nipples peeked at him over the lace cups of her bra.

He wrapped both arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to the valley between her breasts. He kissed and nibbled at the plump swells until she gasped and struggled for each breath.

The straps had loosened and tumbled down her shoulders. He slid his palms up her body, hooked his thumbs in the straps and dragged them back down.

He tugged until finally one cup slipped down and freed her breast. He licked the nipple until it puckered and strained outward. Then he closed his mouth ever so gently around the tip.

“Evan,” she whispered as her hands tangled in his hair.

He sucked softly and then with more pressure until her entire focus was the streaks of pleasure radiating from her nipple.

Clumsily, he yanked and fumbled with the clasp of her bra until it fell completely free. He shoved it aside and focused on unbuttoning her pants, his mouth never leaving her breast.

He lifted her hips. She hoisted herself up, giving him room to pull her pants down. They fell to the floor and he took a step back and ran his gaze up and down her body.

She felt beautiful and desirable. Even irresistible. He ate her with his eyes. Appreciation didn't adequately describe what she saw in his gaze. This was a man who saw only her. There were no other women.

“I can't say I ever fantasized about having sex with a woman on top of a dresser, but I'm re-evaluating. I can see the appeal.”

She wiggled a little closer to him so that she was perched on the edge. Right now she wanted him so much, even the short distance to the bed seemed too much.

He tucked his finger underneath the lace of her panties and ran it along the edge until he delved into her hot, liquid heat. She leaned back, closed her eyes and moaned as he grew bolder with his exploration.

The sensation of his hands rasping lightly over her behind as he cupped her and began to slide her underwear off was enough to drive her beyond endurance. She had to have him. Her nerve endings were fried.

And then she was naked under his seeking gaze and inquisitive fingers. He stroked and caressed until she was a mass of gasping, breathless anticipation.

“No fair,” she panted. “You still have clothes on.”

He gave her a faint smile before quickly shedding his clothing. Then he dropped to his knees in front of the dresser. His hands slid sensuously up her legs, setting fire with the barest of touches.

Her breath caught and held when he parted her thighs and pressed his mouth to her most intimate flesh.

“Oh …”

It was all she could manage. Everything went fuzzy around her. Swimming. She was swimming in the most exquisite, mind-numbing waters she'd ever navigated.

The man was talented. He was generous. Even when he was pushed to his limits, he brought her to the brink of ecstasy before satisfying his own needs.

“Evan, please!”

He rose up, gripped her knees and yanked her forward until she perched precariously on the edge of the dresser again. There was savage menace in his expression, the look of a man pushed too far too fast and struggling to hold on with everything he had.

He paused only long enough to roll on a condom and then he found her center and plunged deep.

His hands slid under her bottom, gripped tight and pulled her to meet his thrusts. He was deep and she felt him in every part of her soul. She ended, he began. He was a part of her, taking, giving and sharing.

He leaned forward to bury his face in her neck as he rocked against her. Lightning sizzled down her spine as he nuzzled her sensitive skin and suckled the column of her neck.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him until there wasn't an inch of space between them. Still buried tightly inside her, he lifted her up and backed toward the bed. He fell, her on top, and they landed with a jolt.

“Ride me,” he said in a strained voice.

His pupils dilated and his brow constricted. Tight lines were etched into his forehead, and his hands gripped her hips so tightly that she could do nothing more than squeeze her inner muscles around his erection.

“Sweat heaven,” he groaned.

She wasn't going to last, and she was helpless to do anything about it. She needed to move. She had to move.