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Make love. He'd never used those words before and those turned her on more than anything. She straddled him, shoving her skirt up, the hair of his thighs brushing the tender flesh between her own. His hands caressed the outsides of her legs as she bumped her hips closer to his cock, brushing the damp fabric of her silk panties along it.

Her hair tumbled forward over her shoulder, caught in the hair of his chest, and he scooped it back over her shoulder, out of his way. Then he cupped her jaw and kissed her as he fumbled with her skirt fastener. He couldn't get it, so he dragged the garment up her body and over her head, with much wriggling that only settled her cunt closer to his erection. Her muscles clenched in longing as he slipped the blouse down her arms, unhooked her bra, letting her breasts spill free into his hands.

She curved her hand around the back of his neck and leaned close, brushing her breasts against his strong chest. He murmured Spanish words against her skin as he coursed his hands down her back, over her hips, before he flipped her onto her back and eased off of her.

"Spread your legs,” he said in Spanish, then repeated in English, nudging her knees apart, then sliding his palm down her stomach to her cunt, spreading her labia with his fingers.

"Can you see? On the screen?” he asked, burying his lips in the hollow beneath her ear as his finger stroked along her cleft, dipping inside her, circling lightly, teasingly before sliding back up to her clit.

"Mm."

Watching him make the movements across the room while feeling them was disconcerting, but she'd never seen her pussy like this, larger than life, shiny with arousal, swollen and pink. Vicente's dark fingers were a sharp contrast and he slipped one, then two inside her, while his thumb rubbed her swollen clit. She was so occupied with watching him that she barely registered the sensation of his lips on her stomach, his head moving lower.

And then his head obscured her view of her cunt on the screen, his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue darting into her pussy with short little strokes, exciting nerves she didn't know she had. Her juices coated his tongue and moans tore from her chest as his tongue slicked up over her slit to circle her throbbing clit before sipping it between his lips, sucking on it, dragging his tongue over it. She curled her fingers in the blanket at her sides and lifted her hips against his face until her orgasm blew her apart, the sensations shooting from her pussy through her blood, her clit pulsing in his mouth, her cunt clenching the fingers he slid inside her.

Then both his mouth and fingers were gone and her eyes flew open. She looked into his eyes as he rose onto his knees and levered himself up her body, gliding his chest over her belly and breasts, just as she'd always fantasized.

"I want to come naked inside you,” he murmured, his gaze on hers. “Let me come naked inside you."

"Yes!” She slid her hands down his sides to his hips, his ass. “God—"

He didn't need more encouragement. He was inside her, thick and hard, her cunt still spasming from her orgasm, squeezing him, and he lowered his head to the curve of her throat, Spanish spilling from his lips, reverent, punctuated with groans of pleasure. He shifted his weight on one arm so he could touch her, his hand in her hair, her cheek, her jaw, her breast.

"I love feeling you on top of me.” She coursed her hands down the muscles of his back, curving over his flexing ass. “It makes me feel so sexy, so ... oh!” She moaned when he pushed deep, so deep it bordered on pain.

"Yes?"

"Oh, yes."

So he repeated it and their rhythm shifted, slowed. She trailed her fingers over his cheek, into his hair, as she looked into his dark eyes, an emotion slammed through her, stronger than her orgasm, shattering her worse than the sexual pleasure. She wanted to say the words that bubbled up in her, but instead turned her head to capture his mouth with hers, threading her fingers through his hair, holding him to her, and let the words echo in her head.

"Feels so good,” he said against her mouth. “I love being able to touch you, to taste you. But I can't come this way."

Disappointment shifted her off the tracks but she fought her way back. “You want me on top?"

He parted her lips with his, dipped his tongue inside even as he pulled his cock out. “On your knees. Will you get on your knees?"

She sat up, kissed him long and deep, then knelt and turned her back to him, looking over her shoulder at him. He trailed his fingers down her spine, his lips trailing, and she shivered when he reached the small of her back before he framed her hips in his hands, pushed her forward so she was on all fours. He teased her entrance with the head of his cock, then thrust into her, filling her, stretching her, pushing her toward her next orgasm. He bent over her, covering her, and the Spanish became more sporadic, the phrases shorter as his thrusts came deeper, harder, faster, his hips slapping her ass, the sound of him sliding in and out of her making her crazy so that she drove back against him.

He eased back on his heels, bringing her over him, her back to his chest. She glanced up and saw they faced the camera, that her pussy was open to it, and on the screen she could watch Vicente's cock moving in and out of her cunt, his thighs holding hers open. He glided his hands over her breasts, plucking the nipples into hard peaks, down over her belly to part her labia with his fingers. She moaned and ground her hips to his as his middle finger hovered over her swollen clit. She slid her hand down his arm to cover his hand, press him against her. That was all she needed to tip her over the edge and she thrust back against him as she pulsed and clenched, pulling him deeper, needing him closer as she came and came, barely registering the sensation of him stiffening, then coming inside her.

She dropped her head back to his shoulder, her hair sticking to his damp skin, the scent of sex and sweat enveloping her.

He murmured something in Spanish and kissed the side of her neck before pulling out.

"What?” She rested her hip on the blanket, her thigh muscles more sore than she expected, and she winced.

He stretched out on his back on the blanket, looped his arm around her shoulders and drew her down to him. “We are very good at this."

"Mm.” She slid her hand over his chest, toyed with the flat disc of his nipple. “Perhaps one of these days we can try it in a real bed."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. His breath caught and he went stiff beside her, then eased from beneath her. He stood beside the table and started dressing.

She sat up, her weight braced on her hand. “What? You said I could have what I want. I want you in bed with me. Why is that wrong?"

"Veronica, we don't even know how tomorrow is going to go. If it doesn't go well, I'll be gone next week. Do you really want to bring me into your bed?"

She blinked. “As opposed to bringing you into my body? Risking my job, my reputation? You see my bed as more intimate? What, because I'd like to hold you afterwards, wake up beside you? What is your deal?"

"You've already had your heart broken."

"I'm a big girl, Vicente. I know how to handle that. Yes, if you leave I'll be sad. I will.” She looked away because she didn't want him to see her true feelings in her eyes. If sleeping with her freaked him out, what would happen if he knew she loved him? “But I think we've already risked so much. Why can't we risk what it might be like to wake up together? That's all I'm asking."

He tugged on his shirt and leaned against the table to cup her face in his hand. “Let us see what happens tomorrow, all right? But tomorrow's a big day and we both need to be fresh for it. Get dressed and I'll drive you home."

Of all the days to be running late. Vicente pounded the elevator button, powerless to do more. He paced the marble hallway. He'd run through the list of everything that needed to be done before their clients arrived and there was no way he'd get it done now.

He'd been up too late, unable to sleep, unable to get Veronica and her request out of his mind. If he brought her home, if he went home with her, allowed another level of intimacy, how much harder would it be for both of them when he left? And even if today's presentation was perfect, he would be leaving at some point. She claimed she was a grown woman and could handle it, but he'd seen her reaction to her ex-lover. He wouldn't be the cause of that pain to a woman ever again.

The elevator doors slid open and he slipped inside, bouncing on his toes as the elevator ascended. He had to push thoughts of Veronica out of his mind until this morning was over.

He exited on the floor, pushed into the office to see the rest of his team there. The conference room was set up with coffee, serving ware, platters of fruits and pastries, everything arranged beautifully, including large bouquets of flowers. The folder that held his work was at the end of the table, as well as the remotes for the laptop and the screen. The easels that lined the wall were covered with blue fabric. Everything that had been on his mental list was ticked off. When he turned, Laurie stood at his elbow with a cup of coffee.

"Did you do this?” he asked, taking the cup and sweeping his hand around the room.

"When I got here, Veronica was already here with the caterers. She did it all."

"Veronica?"

He hadn't seen her, hadn't even thought to look, he'd been so surprised. He sought her, saw her standing at the end of the serving table in a red dress. How the hell had he missed her, because she was all he saw now. She had her attention on him. He set the coffee mug on the end of the table by his folder and crossed the room.

"You did this? Why?"

She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, a gesture of confidence that hit him straight in the heart. He wanted to touch her, so bad. But with the rest of the team in here, and Laurie's watchful gaze, he could not allow himself the luxury.

"I want it to go well."

He wouldn't read more into that other than her best wishes, at least not until later. “Thank you. I'm sorry I was late."

The flash in her eyes made him wonder if she was thinking that, if he'd spent the night with her, he would have been on time. Because the thought had certainly crossed his mind.

"Everything is ready to go. Are you ready?"

"As soon as I have some coffee."

She smiled. “I have a few more things to finish up. You'll do great.” She reached over to squeeze his hand then turned away.

He took his place at the head of the table, and called the meeting to order.

"I'd like to thank you all for being here this morning,” he said when everyone was seated. “I know it is early, and many of you made it here before I did. I am very excited with the results we've come up with for the Hotel Barcelona. To be my most modest, I find her stunning."

His audience chuckled.

"Before I begin my presentation I have a few people to thank. My team worked very hard these past months. I want to think Cathy for her tireless work on the visual aids we'll see, Thomas for his ability to crunch numbers, Laurie for being the right hand of me, whenever I needed her, and Veronica,” he turned toward the door to acknowledge her, aware that others in the room may be able to read the signs of their true relationship in the look, unable to suppress the pride he felt in her, “who saw flaws and solved problems before they could become issues. I thank you all."

The smile she gave him just before he turned back held something that warmed him, a smile he wanted to hold onto. He was still smiling when he began his presentation.

He was rolling along, maintaining everyone's attention and interest. His numbers were spot on, his words well chosen. Mr. Forrester, the partner in the firm who had recruited him, joined them. Veronica moved aside to accommodate him, and Vicente only lost his train of thought for a moment. He picked up the remote and clicked the button to begin his visual representation, and gasps filled the room, and an “Oh, my God,” echoed off the walls.

He pivoted to see what caused such distress. There, on the screen, was Veronica, her naked body stretched upright, her stomach muscles taut as she hooked her hands around his neck as he bent to kiss her shoulder. One hand was on her stomach and the other covered her pussy as he fucked her on the conference table.

Christ. He jabbed the button on the remote a couple of times, pausing the video, rewinding, before finally shutting it off, his entire body hot, the sips of coffee in his stomach roiling as he whipped toward Veronica.

Her face was the same color as her dress, her eyes huge as she stared at him.

"Did you do that?” He barked the words.

She took a step back, all the color rushing from her face now. “What? No!"

Forrester swung the door open, fury etched on his face. “My office. Both of you. Now."

Vicente motioned for Thomas to take his place at the head of the table. Too much work had been done to let the presentation slide, though he doubted Thomas could get their clients back on track after that distraction. He fought the coffee-flavored bile that rose in his throat. He'd destroyed his chance of keeping this job. He would be going home on the next plane.

Veronica walked out the door with her head down, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and she didn't look at him as they walked into Forrester's office behind the man.

"What the hell was that?” Each word was bitten out.

Vicente struggled for calmness, for reason. The battle was more difficult than he expected. “I do not know how the picture ended up there."

"You said you weren't recording,” she accused, her gaze on the floor.

He pivoted toward her. “I didn't! You think I would sabotage my presentation that way?"

"No, I—"

"Excuse me.” Forrester's voice was low and lethal. “You had sex in the office, you filmed yourselves and exposed it to some very important clients. I don't think firing you will undo the damage you've done here."

"Fired? No, don't,” Veronica said, her head snapping up. “I did it. I wanted to sabotage his presentation, so I put the picture up there."

"What? Why?” Forrester demanded.