Talking Dirty With the Boss (Talking Dirty#3) Page 6

  “I’m guessing you’re thinking sex.” His voice had rough undertones that made her want to shiver. “In here.”

  “Sure. Why not? This unable-to-keep-our-hands-off-each-other thing is a complication, right? So let’s handle it.”

  His eyes glowed molten silver. “Now?”

  “Yeah, now. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can both go back to our normal lives.”

  “This wasn’t the kind of suggestion I had in mind.”

  “Hey, buddy, if you’ve got a better idea about how to deal with it I’d like to hear it.”

  Luke said nothing, standing so still it nearly drove her insane. She wished he would do something. Move those warm hands on her. All over her. Touch her. Relieve the ache that was getting worse and worse the longer they stood there.

  Abruptly, his fingers gripped her chin and tilted her head back, his thumb brushing the line of her lower lip in a caress that caught her off guard in its gentleness. “No one can know,” he murmured. “Understand? This is between you and me.”

  “Of course. Like I’d want everyone knowing me and the cyborg CEO have been knocking boots. My reputation would be ruined.”

  A crease appeared between his brows. “Cyborg CEO? What reputation?”

  But Marisa had had enough. Time to get this “dealing with it” show on the road. Instead of replying, she opened her mouth and bit the tip of his thumb.

  The scorching look in his eyes flared, the breath hissing in his throat. “Stop that.”

  “Make me,” she whispered.

  Without a word, Luke bent his head and covered her mouth with his. A hard, deep kiss.

  Oh wow. Clearly Luke McNamara had a dominant streak and she…she liked it.

  Marisa gasped, kissing him back, all her good intentions about keeping control and handling this slipping away.

  Because there was no handling this. No way to take charge or manage it. Together they were a forest fire and they were burning out of control.

  Luke’s mouth moved over her jaw, down the line of her throat, pressing a burning kiss in the hollow where the bead of her necklace lay. She shivered. Holy crap, if this was what happened when he kissed her, how was she ever going to survive anything else?

  Then his hand covered her breast, the heat of his palm melting through the sheer fabric of her blouse, and her mind blanked utterly. She groaned as his fingers found her nipple and pinched the hard tip, sending white-hot darts of pleasure straight between her legs.

  Now. She had to have him now.

  Marisa pulled at his jacket with trembling fingers, desperate for some skin to touch, only to encounter yet more wool once she got it open. Dear Lord, a vest? Did men still wear vests these days? She tore at the buttons, getting it open so she could then attack those of his shirt.

  “Oh my God,” she panted, frustrated. “What’s with all these damn buttons?”

  But then all thoughts of buttons vanished as he jerked up her skirt. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs and she trembled. Because despite the wildness, he was gentle and she couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her like that.

  “Oh…God…” She pressed against him, her breathing ragged. He stroked the curve of her buttocks, squeezing, then slipped one hand between her thighs.

  Marisa let out a choked moan, pleasure rippling through her as his fingers explored her slick flesh. His thumb brushed over her clit, circling, demanding, the raw intensity of the pleasure drawing another cry from her.

  Holy crap. Who’d have thought Mr. Uptight would be so good with his hands?

  Desperate, she fumbled with the buckle of his belt, pulling open his trousers. Wanting to touch him as he was touching her. Oh, this was going way too fast but man, what a rush.

  Her hands pushed into his boxers, gripping him. He felt so good, hard and ready for her. “I want you,” she whispered thickly. “Now, Luke. Now.”

  But he pulled her hands away, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers, bringing out a slim black wallet. He flipped it open, took a silver packet out, then dropped the wallet carelessly on the ground.

  A condom. Excellent.

  “I can put that on you if you want,” she offered breathlessly.

  “No.” His gaze pinned her to spot. “I’ll do it. You stand there and watch.”

  Demanding bastard. But for some insane reason Marisa found herself doing as she was told. Watching him as he ripped open the packet, then slowly rolled the latex down over his erection. God, she wanted to touch him like that. Put her hands on him. Squeeze him. Drive him insane…

  He lifted his attention back to her. “Arms above your head.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Like this.” And he grabbed her hands, pushing them above her head and holding her wrists in one hand. Rendering her helpless. The sensation thrilled her in a way she couldn’t have articulated, and yet made her want to pull against him at the same time, take back the control again.

  But he wasn’t having any of that. Holding her wrists more tightly, he somehow managed to get rid of the remaining material in his way, sliding one hand behind her left knee, drawing her leg up and around his waist.

  Marisa closed her eyes, shaking. It was like she was on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off. And then he was pushing into her, hard and deep, and she was falling. Plummeting through the sky, spinning around and around. Free-falling into ecstasy.

  She’d forgotten she was in the supply room of her office. That all her work colleagues were out there only meters away. That the man she was with was her über-boss.

  She’d forgotten everything but him and what he was doing to her.

  “Oh…” she groaned, arching back against the door, the stretch of him inside her almost too much. Too intense. Pinned, helpless, he seemed to fill every part of her, invading her, taking her like a conquering hero.

  And she loved it. Completely loved it.

  “Look at me,” he ordered roughly and she did. Without question. Meeting his gaze.

  Losing herself in it.

  “Luke…” His name panted out as he moved, the rhythm becoming faster, harder.

  And then all thought, all speech became impossible as the climax exploded around her, pushing her off the side of the world and out into space.

  …

  Luke stood there, holding a panting Marisa against the door, unable to understand quite how he’d gotten there. One minute he’d been standing with her out in the corridor, handing her back her panties. The next he was in a supply room, inside her, his pants around his ankles, his brain still ringing like a bell from the orgasm that had shattered it.

  How the hell had that happened?

  Like the sports cars he collected and drove, sex was an outlet, a way to let off steam. It was one of the only ways he could let himself go, but even so, losing it and screwing a woman up against a bloody door, at work, was not the right way to go about it.

  You knew this would happen. You knew how volatile things were between you.

  Cold washed over him. Yes, he had known. But he’d ignored it. Grabbed at her logic of “dealing with it” like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. Broken his own rules and had sex with her. Because he’d wanted her and hadn’t been able to stop himself.

  Unacceptable. Bloody unacceptable.

  And all it had taken was one small, curvaceous woman in a pencil skirt and bunny panties.

  He glanced down at her. Her hair was half coming out of her bun, golden curls hanging over one eye. Another button on her blouse had popped open, too, revealing lots of smooth, honey-gold skin. The contrast between the red cotton of her blouse and her bare flesh was enough to make him dry-mouthed and shaky with desire all over again.

  She was beautiful, sensual. Uninhibited. All the things he didn’t have much time for. And he wanted her again.

  Disturbed, Luke shoved himself away from the door and from her, his abrupt withdrawal making her blink. And as he turned round to deal with the cond
om, he realized he had another problem.

  The cold intensified, then froze solid.

  “Anything wrong?” Marisa’s voice sounded sleepy. “You’re standing there like a—”

  “The condom broke,” he said roughly. After finding a piece of photocopying paper, he balled up the condom with it, threw the paper in the bin, then picked up the remains of the silver packet that were scattered on the floor. The expiration date was six months ago.

  Shit.

  “What do you mean broke?” She said the words as if she didn’t know what they meant. Then the expression on her face changed. “Oh. Broke.”

  Already his mind had started to go over the possibilities of her being pregnant, what it would mean. Having a kid. A family…

  Luke shut the thought down. Having a normal life didn’t include a family.

  Hiding his OCD from his business rivals who might call into question his ability to run a company was hard enough, let alone trying to hide it from a wife and child as well. And he’d have to hide it. Imagine his own family looking at him the way his parents had looked at him. Like he was crazy. It would be unbearable.

  “You need to go to the doctor,” he ordered, trying to keep his voice from sounding as harsh as he feared it did.

  Marisa’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  Reflexively, he tidied up his own clothing, then tidied hers, smoothing down her skirt, buttoning her blouse. “You have to go to the doctor. I don’t want a pregnancy.”

  As if the words had broken some kind of spell, she frowned. Then slapped away his hands. “Relax. I’ve got it covered.”

  The cold gripping him wouldn’t let go. “What do you mean you’ve got it covered?”

  She shrugged. “I’m on the Pill. It’ll be fine.”

  “There’s still a chance of pregnancy.”

  “It’ll be fine, Luke. Chill.”

  Luke gripped her chin, tipped her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I will not ‘chill.’ There can be no children, do you understand?”

  Marisa jerked away, a flash of anger crossing her face. “Of course I understand. Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.” She fussed with her hair. “I don’t want kids any more than you do, okay?”

  That didn’t help. This whole incident had unsettled him. The loss of control. The intensity of his desire. The fact that he still wanted her, even now.

  The fact that you’re in a stationery supply room in your own bloody building with one of your employees…

  Christ. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  “So now that we’ve dealt with our chemistry,” he said tersely, “we shouldn’t need to see each other again. Are we clear?”

  A moment of silence passed and he realized that perhaps that wasn’t the most sympathetic of things to have said.

  She eyed him. “Wow, you really need to work on your post-sex manner. Are you always this charming to your lovers?”

  “We’re not lovers, Marisa. We had sex up against a door. That’s it.”

  “Oh great, tell it like it is.”

  “Well, that is what it is. We’re not friends. We’re only two people who have some intense physical chemistry and did something about it.” He checked his clothing, smoothing his tie with fingers that really shouldn’t be shaking and yet were. “Don’t get me wrong, it was very pleasurable. But I’m still the head of this company and you’re still my employee, and this can’t happen again. Especially with someone like you.”

  She froze. “What do you mean ‘someone like me’?”

  Luke pulled free a long blond strand of hair from his sleeve. “A pretty, blond, and very junior PA. Who isn’t really my type.”

  A spark of anger glowed in Marisa’s eyes. “Pretty and blond? Junior? You make me sound like a freaking child, Luke.”

  Too late he realized that had been the wrong thing to say. “All I meant is that you’re a minor staff member in comparison to—”

  The spark of anger became a conflagration, her eyes blue as a gas flame. “A minor staff member? Way to make me feel good about my job, you insensitive jerk!”

  He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh really? Then what the hell did you mean?”

  “Stop putting words into my mouth. I meant that the power disparity—”

  “Hey, you know what? I don’t care what you meant.” She stood with her arms crossed, obviously furious. “I’m just a pretty blonde you screwed, right? Why should it matter to you how I feel about it?”

  It was a good question. And the answer—he was disturbed to discover—was that it did matter.

  “Marisa—”

  “Get out.”

  “Marisa—” he tried again.

  She threw up her hands. “Actually, what am I doing telling you to get out?” Stepping away from the door, she grasped the handle, preparing to leave.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to soften his voice, annoyed with himself that he’d said the wrong things and upset her. He didn’t set out to hurt people, but being comforting or understanding had always been hard for him. His parents hadn’t given him much of either and he hadn’t had much practice since. “I’m not….good with people.”

  “Now there’s a shock.”

  “Please, if you’re pregnant, I need to know.”

  “Oh, why? Going to do the decent thing and marry the blond bimbo?”

  “No, but I take my responsibilities seriously. Whatever else you think about me.”

  “I don’t care what your responsibilities are. Thank you for reminding me of what I should have remembered before you walked in here: to stay away from pompous, self-righteous asses like you.” She pulled open the door. “See you later, asshole.”

  Then she shut it in his face.

  …

  Marisa lurched from the supply room and headed straight for the ladies’ room opposite. Then spotted something white on the floor. Oh, God, her stupid panties. Cursing, she picked them up on her way into the bathroom, her heart ricocheting around inside her chest like a pinball.

  Luckily, she had the entire room to herself.

  With shaking hands she smoothed her clothes, put on her underwear, and repinned her hair. Peering into the mirror, she grabbed a tissue from the dispenser and dabbed at the lipstick smears around her mouth from where Luke had kissed her.

  Pretty and blond. Minor staff member. Not my type...

  She tried to swallow her hurt and her anger. Failed. Tried to think about why the hell she was so hurt and angry in the first place, when all that incident in the supply room had been about was putting their chemistry behind them.

  She wasn’t supposed to care about it or about Luke McNamara’s stupid opinions.

  But for some reason she did. And it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

  Marisa swiped at the red mark on her neck left by Luke’s mouth and scowled.

  The things he said and the way he said them made her feel young and stupid and insignificant. Like she was still that naive little girl who’d fallen for a married man, not seeing what he was until it was too late.

  And though she obviously wasn’t falling in love with Luke—hell no—she’d lost it in the supply room. Revealed herself too much. Given him a little piece of herself. A piece he didn’t bloody deserve.

  Jesus, what a mess, and it was her own stupid fault. Again.

  She sighed and chucked the tissue in the bin, then stared at herself in the mirror. The blue-eyed china doll she saw each day stared back. Sometimes she hated that face. It had gotten her beauty pageant titles and modeling contracts, but it had also gotten her Alistair and the debt situation she was now in.

  He’d been an up-and-coming photographer, charming with a hint of bad boy, and had burst into her sheltered life like a whirlwind, sweeping her off her feet. He’d taken her to London and New York, gotten her high-profile modeling jobs, introduced her to famous people, called her his muse. She’d worshipped the ground he walked on, not noticing that he tre
ated her like a child. Gratefully paying for all his expenses and waving away his “I’ll pay you back” promises. Believing him when he said all his money was tied up investments and he didn’t have cash “right now.” Like she’d believed him when he told her he loved her.

  Until it had all blown up in her face.

  They’d been in LA when his cell phone had rung and she’d found herself speaking to his wife. A wife she didn’t know he had. A wife he’d been trying to hide their affair from by making Marisa pay for everything to keep the expenses secret.

  Heartbroken, she’d told Alistair it was over and left him, only to arrive back in New Zealand to find he’d bad-mouthed her to everyone in the business so that she couldn’t get another modeling job. Word was, he was bitter she’d been the one to end it.

  It had all been years ago, but she’d never forgotten. Hadn’t quite managed to put the humiliation of knowing how badly she’d been conned behind her. How she’d given herself totally to someone, only to have that flung back in her face.

  She wouldn’t be so stupid again.

  Gently, Marisa touched the blue bead around her neck, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Carpe diem, Marisa. Do you know that that means? It means ‘seize the day.’ Get out there and grab those dreams. Don’t let them escape.”

  She let out a breath, released the bead, her father’s voice echoing in her head.

  She’d been putting those art dreams of hers on hold for too long. Letting the past with Alistair hold her back. Letting herself get distracted by men and parties and shopping.

  The time for that was over. No more self-sabotage. No more mistakes. And definitely no more hot lusty-pants with men who didn’t appreciate her.

  She had stuff to do. Dreams to put in motion.

  Time to carpe that effing diem.

  Chapter Five

  “What do you know about Marisa?” Luke had been sitting on the question all evening and he couldn’t stop from asking it a second longer.