Breaking the Boss's Rules

Imogen swallowed, and then moistened her lips to relieve her parched mouth as her awareness of Joe further heightened. But with awareness came worry, and a sudden shyness tensed her body. What if she didn’t come up to scratch? Surely this apartment was meant for women who were more … more beautiful, experienced, sexy?

Then Joe moved behind her, his body heat warming her as his fingers massaged her shoulders.

‘You OK?’ he murmured.

‘My heart is beating so damn hard it’s like I’m consumed—and yet I’m scared that I’ll mess this up.’

Disappoint you.

‘Not possible.’

His fingers continued to wreak their magic and she wriggled in sheer appreciation.

‘But if you’ve changed your mind …’

A last lingering doubt snaked through her brain and she quashed it ruthlessly. This was her chance to experience something she might never experience again. Yes, lust was dangerous—but it was a danger she was fully aware of and had no intention of falling prey to.

As for the risk of disappointing Joe … Every molecule in her body told her that they’d work it out. This was her night and she’d regret it for ever if she didn’t take it.

‘No. I haven’t changed my mind.’

‘Good,’ he growled as his hands slid to her shoulders, glissaded down to her waist.

He nuzzled her neck and at the touch of his lips she shivered, arched to give him better access. As she did so her gaze fell on the mural and she saw it in a new light—a picture of two normal people who were following their instincts, engaged in something natural and beautiful.

The realisation sent a thrill through her, and suddenly she needed to see Joe—see the man who was already giving her such pleasure.

As if he felt the same he stood back and turned her, so she was flush against the hard plane of his chest. The light scent of sandalwood mixed with sheer Joe assaulted her senses. Imogen looked up at him and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the raw desire that dilated his pupils.

Standing on tiptoe, she looped her arms round his neck, buried her fingers in the thick brown hair. Joe’s broad hands curved round her waist and his mouth covered hers. Imogen savoured the tang of pistachio and the flavour of mint leaf as his tongue swept the bow of her mouth and she parted her lips. Sensations rocketed through her as his tongue stroked hers, sliding and tangling and tormenting, and she matched him stroke for stroke.

She pushed against him, desperate to be closer, for more, pressing heavy breasts against his chest. His hands plunged down from her waist to cup her bottom, and she moaned into his mouth as momentum built and strummed inside her.

Breaking their kiss, he stepped backwards and sank down onto the deep crimson sofa, pulling her onto his lap, the strength of his thighs hard under hers.

Her clumsy-with-need fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt and tugged the silken black edges apart. Then finally she touched his skin, ran her hands over his packed chest.

Joe found the zip of her dress and tugged it down in one deft movement, gliding the gauzy material over her shoulders and down her arms, freeing her breasts.

‘Jeez …’ he breathed. ‘You are gorgeous, Imogen.’

His large hands cupped her breasts and as he circled her standing-to-attention nipples. Imogen arched backwards in ecstasy. Then in one smooth movement he lifted her off his lap and laid her down on the expanse of the sofa.

‘I need to see all of you,’ he said roughly as his hands pulled her dress down.

Lifting her hips, she felt the material slide down and off into a pool on the floor, followed by the lacy wisp of her knickers.

Joe’s heated gaze glittered over her. ‘So beautiful …’ he murmured

Imogen allowed her gaze to run down his body, saw the impressive bulge that strained the zipper of his trousers. A quiver of anticipation thrilled through her.

‘Joe?’

‘Yes.’

‘I think you need to take your clothes off. Things seem to be a little out of balance at the moment.’

‘Your wish is my command, beautiful.’