In Bed with the Boss

The force of his third kiss arched her head back and his hand trailed down her exposed throat, over the rumpled opening of her blouse, to settle heavily over the breast pocket of her shirt, his fingers contracting as he ground his palm into the warm mound of flesh. Her eyes fluttered shut at the implosion of blissful excitement. Under the limp cotton of her shirt the fine lace of her bra was a fragile barrier that couldn’t hide the firming of her nipple and he found it instinctively with his gliding thumb, circling and scraping at the tight bud with his thumbnail, drawing it out into throbbing sensitivity. His teeth sank into her lip, eating her tiny, helpless moan as his other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her sharply away from the bench and into his body, his hand slanting down over the back of narrow skirt to cup her buttock, kneading the soft globe with imperious fingers, his denim-clad knee rubbing against her flank.

Overwhelmed by the violent storm of physical sensations, Kalera relinquished herself to mindless pleasure, her hands running under his T-shirt to stroke over the taut skin that had tempted her earlier, tracking his ribcage and skimming up over the bunched muscles to play with the soft, springy hair on his chest.

He grunted as her fingers clenched in the luxuriant thicket, her knuckles scraping his flat nipples, the rumbling sound trapped in his chest by the sealing of their mouths. His hand contracted on her bottom, lifting her higher against him so that the centres of their bodies fitted so tightly together she could feel the studs of his jeans grating against her pelvic bone. His mouth was savagely intent on hers as he suddenly shifted his weight, his undulating hips nudging her backwards until her shoulder-blades struck the cool smoothness of sheet metal. Her eyes flew open and she realised that he had laid

her against the door of the refrigerator to free his hands for more sinful roving.

He tilted his head, his face filling her vision as he slanted his mobile mouth for greater access, his closed eyes making her aware of the thin-skinned delicacy of his eyelids and the way his dark brows had rumpled into his forehead as if he were in great pain, prompting a fierce surge of tenderness to soften the raw physicality of her response and turn it into something infinitely more threatening to her emotional safety.

But as his denim-clad thigh thrust between hers and his hands raked open the buttons of her blouse she couldn’t remember why she should care. The mingled scent of their heated bodies was a heady bouquet in her nostrils and went like wine to her head, so that when Duncan broke the endless kiss to curse over a lone snagged button a bubble of husky laughter escaped her throat.

Goaded by the sexy sound, he lost patience and ripped her blouse open, thrusting his hands into the stretch lace cups of her bra and dragging them down to expose her swollen, brown-tipped breasts.

He bent his head and ran his tongue around the puckered rims, finishing with a brief, rasping flick across the rigid crowns. Kalera’s head fell back against the fridge, her shoulders slumping, her hands sliding down to his compact waist where her nails curled convulsively into the firm resilience of his skin.

‘When I was sucking your fingers,’ he told her thickly, ‘I was fantasising that they were these…’ He blew lightly across the responsive peaks and watched her breasts quiver with the tremulous rise of her ribcage, her nipples visibly reacting to the moist stroke of air. ‘I remember how much you enjoyed me playing with them, how you leaned over me and fed them to my lips like ripe berries…’

She shivered wildly. ‘Oh, please…’

‘Please what?’ His fingers surrounded her breasts, his thumbs pushing the pouting nipples up towards his mouth as he slowly sank to his knees in front of her. ‘Please please you? Of course I will—that’s my mission in life, darling,’ he vowed as he enveloped her in a lashing wet fire that made her bones crumble and her flesh melt.

Lost in a carnal world where everything was subordinate to the pleasure-giving caress of his mouth, Kalera reached flashpoint with stunning speed. Suddenly the aching delight that she was experiencing became shot with feverish urgency. Her hands cupped Duncan’s head, her fingers weaving sensuously into his hair as one slender thigh rubbed up and down his side, her back flexing to rock her hips insistently against his chest.

Duncan’s hands tightened on her restless flanks, sliding up to her hips to anchor her against the fridge as he rose back to his full height.

‘Oh, no,’ he growled, letting her feel the hard bulge between his legs jutting against her belly. ‘Not this time…this time I don’t have to be noble and restrained. This time, when I give you an orgasm I want to be inside you…’

This time. The phrase ricocheted around inside Kalera’s turgid brain, exploding her sensual trance, triggering a rising panic as he continued triumphantly, ‘This time we make love as equals, and we have names—Kalera and Duncan. And this time there’ll be no ghost joining us in the bed…!’

Ghost. He was talking about Harry, as if the lingering spirit of her past love had been the only stumbling block to their tumbling headlong into a scorching affair.

But he was wrong, horribly wrong, for there were a host of other very good reasons why it was a very bad idea—the crucial one being emphatically no ghost…

As if she had uttered his name the telephone began to ring again, a shrill cry of reproach from the other room. Kalera’s head began to turn towards the sound and Duncan’s hand slammed into the fridge beside her head, the thick column of his arm blocking her view of the door.

‘No, dammit!’ At her flinch his shout dropped to a mere yell as he caged her with his other arm. ‘Don’t answer it!’

‘I have to—’

She frantically tugged up her bra, wincing as it compressed her tender nipples, and shakily buttoned her shirt.

‘No, you don’t. It’s not illegal to ignore a ringing phone.’

The electronic burr seemed louder with every repetition.

‘But it might be important,’ she protested, trying to duck under his arms.

He lowered them to hip-level, trapping her even more effectively. ‘It’s Prior again, isn’t it?’ His searching gaze found confirmation in her anxious face. ‘You know it is—so does that mean he always calls more than once when you’ve been out late?’

How could she have let Stephen’s hitherto trivial little habit slip her mind? Because when Duncan was kissing her she didn’t have a mind!

‘If he realises he’s forgotten to tell me something—’

‘And to make certain that you haven’t gone out again,’ he interpreted grimly.

It was true that Stephen’s reasons were invariably petty and he never chatted long, but she had flattered herself that it was out of affection that he wanted to hear the sound of her voice again. ‘I’m sure that’s not why—’

‘Of course it is. He’s testing you, Kalera, trying to control you by remote, and you’re letting him get away with it. I bet if it was me calling you all the time you’d soon tell me where to get off!’