The Billionaire's Sexy Rival (Jameson Brothers 3)

"God," she breathed. "Finally. That feels so good."

"You're the one who feels amazing, Poppy," William breathed. "Better than I could have imagined."

"So you imagined us," she panted defiantly. "I knew it!"

"So did you."

She didn't protest, and she definitely didn't argue when William started to rock against her. The couch sank a little more beneath them, but he barely noticed. The springs squeaked with their combined weight, but the noise barely registered. He lost himself in the sensation of her. He rolled his hips and thrust deeper, and she received him with a happy sigh. "William," she moaned his name again, and his own moan joined with hers. He had always been as stoic in the bedroom as he was in the boardroom, but somehow William couldn't help it. He could control the movements of his body, but not its response to her.

He thrust into her slowly, rhythmically. He watched the progression of her pleasure. Her head fell back, her eyes fluttered closed. When her explosive little breaths and kittenish mewls weren't enough, he began to thrust harder. He needed more. He craved to know her every response. The sofa squeaked a louder protest. Poppy's breasts bounced more quickly beneath him. William leaned in until his chest pinned her own.

"Poppy," he moaned. He had pleasured himself so many times these past weeks imagining her this way. It was only now, in the heat of the moment, that he could fully admit it

to himself. In his private moments he was consumed by his thoughts of her.

"Ohhh! Fuck, William!" Poppy cried. Her lips were parted, her teeth bared. There was perspiration beading her temple and darkening the blonde, tangled locks of her hair. William scooped his arms beneath her and gripped her close. His hips pumped into her like they had a mind of their own. Her thigh clenched around him…he felt caught in a vice…and all the while he submerged himself in the unbearable hot tightness of her. Now that he knew it, he couldn't bring himself to leave it for long. Every withdrawal segued to a harder, deeper thrust. He was pretty sure the violence of their lovemaking had already burst one of the couch cushions. One of Poppy's arms shot out to grope for something to hold onto, and the coffee table ground out a low note as she accidentally thrust it from her. The flailing arm eventually came to wrap around his neck again.

"William, I'm going to come!" she cried out.

William growled in throaty response. He wanted to challenge her to hold out as much as he wanted to dare her to do it, but he could feel his own orgasm building up inside him now. His thrusts came quicker; the slap of flesh against flesh was as loud as it was indecent as it was arousing as hell. His pulse roared in his ears as his heart sped out of control. He sank himself in Poppy and she cried wildly for everything: for him to speed up, for him to slow down, for him to give her a moment, for him to not stop. If her thoughts were scattering, then so was his ability to reason out what she was saying.

When she came, he felt it. Every limb wrapped around him clenched, and her whole body shuddered beneath him. She tensed as she built herself up…and up…and up to the unbearable point of climax, and then she spilled over with a wail. Her depths contracted around him, squeezing him, and William came unexpectedly. He ejaculated on an inward thrust; his hot seed spurted inside her. He stilled himself as he emptied every last drop. Then he sagged down on top of her, utterly spent. Once she had caught her breath again, Poppy laughed and pushed weakly at his dead weight, but she didn't demand that he move. William was grateful. He needed a minute to collect himself after the mind-blowing sex he had just experienced. It had been unplanned. It had been impulsive.

It had been absolutely incredible.

Afterward, once they had roused themselves to clean off and shower, William lay back in Poppy's bed and gazed into the unfamiliar shadows of her ceiling. He caught himself trying to memorize, again and again, every detail of the room…the moment…. He consoled himself with the knowledge this wouldn't be his last visit, not by any stretch of the imagination.

But it was that same comfort that worried him.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew he shouldn't have allowed things to get this far with Poppy. Sex and work, especially with your rival, definitely did not mix—yet somehow he kept finding himself in these situations with the feisty CEO of Wildflower Agency. Their night together seemed like a natural conclusion to the tension that had always existed between them.

But now what?

We'll keep it separate, William thought. We're both professionals. It shouldn't be that hard to draw a line and agree to it. He was starting to feel drowsy, and he was satisfied with his solution…for now. He wasn't one to procrastinate normally, but he didn't mind putting this particular puzzle off until tomorrow. He tilted his chin. The crown of Poppy's head rested beneath him; he watched it rise and fall with each breath he took. She looked completely relaxed, completely undisturbed by the fact that her biggest business rival was currently lying naked in her bed.

"I have a confession," he said after a while.

"Mmm?" Poppy stirred against his side and nuzzled closer. His hand came up to stroke the fine hair at her temple; then he let his fingers trace downward to tilt her chin toward him. Her eyes were half-closed, and he wasn't sure she was awake enough to hear his sin.

"I absolutely know what 'Netflix and Chill' means," he said. "Did you really think the CEO of Jameson Ad Agency would be out of the loop on that one?"

Poppy's eyes snapped open. She surged upward in his arms to stare at him. She looked for all the world like a post-orgasmic woman who had just learned she had sex with a complete surprise cloaked in her usual lover's clothes.

William grinned, and Poppy burst out laughing. She smacked his shoulder, and when she couldn't resist trying to hit him again, William pulled her in for a kiss.

Chapter Eight

Poppy

Poppy normally wasn't one to kiss and tell. She liked to keep her private life, well…private.

But after that hot night spent in William’s arms, the lines between 'personal' and 'professional' had irrevocably blurred. She needed to get a handle on it, and fast.

So she called another impromptu meeting.

"Ugh, sis. This is gross. You realize how gross this is, right?" The voice of her older brother, Tristan, chastised her from the other end of the line. Poppy traded her cell phone to the other shoulder as she unlocked her car. It was the Sunday after her "sleepover" with William, and she was headed into the office early. She needed some time alone to work through plans for the convention. Even with William taking the lead, she hadn't forgotten that Wildflower was competing with Jameson Agency for the contract…or at least, she had forced herself to remember as much this morning. It was easier now that she was once more waking up to an empty space beside her in bed.

"Is the fact that I slept with William Jameson gross? Or the fact that I called you about my sex life gross?" she wondered.