The Billionaire's Sexy Rival (Jameson Brothers 3)

"She doesn't want a man like Rhett anyway," William muttered as he sank back into the couch. "Seriously, what a clown. 'You should be kissed, and kissed often, and by someone who knows how.' Christ. Just shoot me if anything that cheesy ever comes out of my mouth."

"You're drunk," Poppy accused abruptly. She swayed a little herself as she pointed to him. "And also, you're wrong. That's one of the single most romantic things a man has said to a woman, ever. And you know what? I don't care if it was fictional!"

"And you stand by your claim?" William asked her.

"I stand by my claim." Poppy crossed her arms.

"Didn't look to me like he had the kissing chops to back up his offer," he countered. "If I was Rhett, I would have grabbed the woman I loved that instant, kissed her, and never let her go. I would have made her see just how much she needs me."

"No kiss is that good," Poppy argued. Then she snorted and set her beer aside. "I mean, come on…I can only suspend my disbelief so far. Even audiences back in the forties would have rolled their eyes if that was the case."

"Maybe," William acquiesced. "Maybe none of them ever experienced the kind of kiss I'm talking about."

Green eyes gleamed even brighter in the darkness. The low light cast by the television screen bathed Poppy in a soft, silver radiance. William hadn't allowed himse

lf expectations for how this evening would go—not conscious ones, anyway—but he was feeling too good to stop now. The silence between them tasted of expectation.

Of challenge.

He grabbed a fistful of Poppy's shirt and pulled her over to his cushion. He swept his free hand down the curve of her cheek, watching her lean into the touch with a sigh, almost as if she had stopped thinking and was only responding to him now. Good. That was exactly how he wanted her. When her eyes fluttered open again, William moved in. He crushed his lips against hers in the dark. He didn't need a light to see by. If he didn't know where her mouth was, he knew exactly where it belonged, and that's what guided him to her. He tasted the spark of carbonation, the sweet, slick hint of butter on her lips lubricating his every plunge and slide. It was unlike any kiss they had shared before, and unlike anything William had experienced with a woman.

So he kept going.

"God," Poppy moaned when she was able to draw back minutes later. William lowered himself to sample the smooth skin of her throat; he enjoyed the way her words trembled as a result. "You have no idea how long I've waited…waited for a man to try and live up to that kiss…"

He intended to do more than just try. He silenced Poppy with another press of his lips to hers, and let his hand wander up her thigh to her hip. The denim cut-offs she wore were as short as her shirt was long. There was plenty of smooth skin for him to touch, but 'plenty' wasn't nearly enough.

William pushed her back into the couch as his fingers located the front of her shorts. Poppy undulated her hips to give him better access; her hands came up to cup his face, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It wasn't enough. He felt like he could never get enough of her, but he was sure as hell going to try.

The button on her shorts came undone, and he guided the cut-offs down her wiggling hips. He let the zipper on her fly come free on its own. Poppy arched beneath him, writhing and kicking her legs until her shorts went sailing off into a far corner of the room.

He couldn't get her out of that shirt fast enough. He would never understand women's fascination with oversized clothes, although he supposed it was probably a relief to get into them after a long day at the office. Poppy's loud choice of shirt made his job easy now. He stripped it up over her head, exposing the black outline of the bra beneath. It was svelte and womanly by contrast, and obviously from a high-end store; it matched her black lace panties. These garments appeared to have been created with the exact opposite philosophy of whoever was responsible for that shirt. William silently thanked the manufacturer as he let his eyes travel over her.

"I'm pretty sure Rhett never looked at Scarlett like that," Poppy murmured. "Mr. Jameson, what do you intend to do with me?" She reached for him, and William bent obediently. This time when their lips moved together, their tongues tangled. The kiss was indulgent, almost lazy. His hands slid between them to continue their work. He had no intention of spending all night admiring the way Poppy's underwear perfectly complemented her body. He was going to divest her of every inch of it, now.

"What I intend to do with you, Miss Hanniford, is confidential Jameson business," William whispered. Her hands were loosening his tie now and parting the collar of his shirt. "Though I suppose since it's been proven by now that we work so well together…"

"… you'd be willing to make a small concession for me?" Poppy asked, batting her eyes.

"For the particular collaboration I have in mind?" William thrust his straining erection against her to punctuate his point, and she gasped appreciatively. "Anything but small, Miss Hanniford."

Her hands worked even more quickly after that to strip his clothes off him. It was just as William feared—he was overdressed—but Poppy's fingers were as dexterous as they were eager. He could easily imagine that she had mapped her route to getting him naked ahead of time. He had certainly done the same for her in every meeting they had ever shared. He let her strip his clothes off, one article at a time, as he drew his wallet out of his pocket and thumbed it open. There it was, the sleek black package from the box of Trojan Magnums he had purchased days ago after their charged kiss. He drew it out and tossed his wallet to the side carelessly.

He aligned his naked body with her own, privately enjoying the feel of skin-on-skin contact. Poppy hooked one leg around his waist to keep herself from sinking too far back into the cushions. Her body was perfect. Her curves were perfect. Her nipples were pointed, and hard with her need for him. She stared up at him with that angelic face of hers, pillowed in a cushion of golden hair, and William's cock twitched violently at the look in her eyes. He had never had a woman give him such pleasure with her eyes alone. She looked equal parts winded by him and hungry for him. It was an expression he would never allow himself to forget.

"Touch me," he whispered. Poppy complied. Her smooth, cool hands found him and clasped his shaft. She ran her fingers along the length of his cock, and William hissed. He strained at her touch. It was too teasing. He needed heat, pressure. He needed to know the most secret part of her. If he didn't fuck Poppy, now, he would explode. Every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation of the next moment.

"I want you," Poppy murmured. Her eyelids fell to half-mast, and fuck if William would ever forget that expression, either. "Please, William…"

No need for politeness. They were beyond that now. If William stopped to think, he would realize they were well beyond anything he had prepared for when he had entered into this tentative partnership—but there was no time to think. There was only Poppy, and now. There was only his hand gliding between her legs to test her readiness and coming away wet. There was only that little pearl, perfectly nestled above her entrance, and what he could do to her by pressing it.

"William!" Poppy said his name very differently this time. She gasped and bucked and surged beneath him as he rolled her clit, taking easy mastery of her pleasure. He experimented by applying different amounts of pressure, until a touch of his finger was enough to make her cry and clutch him so hard he nearly fell off the couch. Her hands clenched around his cock as she rolled the condom onto it, and William groaned. It still wasn't enough.

"Don't make me ask again," Poppy panted.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Hanniford."

He hiked her other leg up over his hip, angled himself, and pushed. The dome of his cock slipped past her slick folds and he sank himself inside her, inch by agonizing inch. William tried to hold himself back, to go slow, but Poppy's knees squeezed around him and urged him on. Now. Faster. Before he knew it, he was completely buried inside her. He groaned and let his head drop onto her shoulder once more.