Saturday, August 1, 2009

Tied Up With Green by Becca Dale

He stood too close. Warmth from his breath flirted with the curls on the base of her neck that had escaped her upswept hair. Shivers skipped across her trembling skin. Trea took a drink and tried to pretend he didn’t make her horny as hell. “I thought you wanted to show me something? Don’t you think we should get to work, Jay?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Drink your champagne and enjoy the view.”

He stepped closer. His cologne, spicy and clean, teased her nostrils. God, he smelled like a man should. Her libido jumped another notch. She closed her eyes against his broad reflection, so strong and alluring behind her.

Bad idea.

Thoughts of all that power at her mercy filled her mind. He’d not be easily dominated, but she’d welcome the challenge. To have him kneel between her legs and beg for release, plead for forgiveness, or best of all, promise whatever she asked. The image nearly made her dizzy. She opened her eyes only to meet his hot gaze in the darkened glass. He knew she desired him. She could see the knowledge in his face.

“Take this.” She offered him her glass as a test—would he obey without a courteous please or thank-you?

He smiled and accepted the flute without comment.

She turned fully toward him. He towered above her. Most men didn’t. Most topped her by only an inch or two, but he stood nearly six and a half feet tall. Strength emanated from his incredible body.

“Why are we here, Jay?”

“To review a proposal.”

“You said that. What type of proposal?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” His sexy voice and evident arousal made the question unnecessary, but she had no intention of getting into an uncomfortable situation with her boss.

“On what you want, Ms. Daniels.”

He didn’t reach for her, but she could feel his touch on every part of her body.

“What if I want something you can’t give?”

“I’ll find a way to make it happen.”

He drove her crazy with words alone. She shifted to ease the tension gathering between her legs. The idea of coming without physical stimulation suddenly seemed possible.

“What happens Monday morning when we face each other across the conference table? When the guys ask about me in the john? Do you brag about how you convinced me to spread my legs for you, or do you keep tonight to yourself and forget about it?”

“No one else will ever know what goes on here, but I have no intention of forgetting anything.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

He edged closer, head tipped to meet her eyes. “Not a soul, not even you, knows how often I think about sinking slowly into your warm, sweet body, or how the thought of you lying across my desk naked and hot distracts me from my work. I’ve kept that to myself for eight months. Why would I jeopardize the realization of those fantasies?”

She closed her eyes again to fight back the images his confession conjured. Her body hummed with restrained passion.

“I’ll ask again. What do you want, Ms. Daniels?”

Her decision became clear. She wouldn’t walk away from what he made her feel, but she refused to surrender either. Reaching for the glasses, she set them on the end table near his leather sofa. She hesitated another moment, more to savor the anticipation than anything else, then pointed toward his chair.

“Have a seat behind your desk so every time I come in here I can picture you there waiting for me.”

“All right.”