Undone By Her Ultra-Rich Boss

Why was that? she wondered frustratedly as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple and she sighed with what she hoped he’d interpret as ecstasy. What was she doing wrong? And, come to think of it, where was the reason-wrecking heat and all-consuming need off to? She could feel it dissipating and she tried to recapture it but to no avail, and no, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t meant to be happening. She wasn’t meant to be panicking that she was going to mess it up. She was meant to be doing this and doing it well.

Duarte ran his hand down her body, and in anxious desperation Orla writhed in a way designed to indicate passion, in an attempt to reignite it inside her, but it was as if she were watching the proceedings from somewhere far, far away, and she wanted to cry with despair and frustration.

So much for getting the craziness out of her system. Right now, it wasn’t even in her system. With all her overthinking, she’d killed the mood. For her at least. But she needn’t kill it for him, and who knew, maybe his desire for her would be strong enough for both of them?

Panting hard and frantically hoping to relocate the need that had been tormenting her for days but was now stubbornly absent, she trailed her fingers down his back and round to the button of his shorts. She started undoing it, feeling the hard length of his impressive erection beneath her hand, when he suddenly put his hand over hers and stilled her movements.

‘What are you doing?’ she said huskily, looking up at him with what she hoped was an encouragingly seductive smile. ‘Why are you stopping?’

His eyes were dark and glittering, and a deep frown creased his forehead. ‘This isn’t doing it for you, is it?’

What? Damn. Why couldn’t he have believed her pants and moans, the way her ex had? Why did he have to notice she was struggling to focus? He wasn’t helping by putting a halt to things. Couldn’t he see that?

‘Just carry on,’ she murmured, trying to shake his hand off hers so she could continue undoing his fly. ‘It’ll be fine.’

He stared down at her, as if unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘Fine?’

Oh, dear. Now she’d offended him. ‘I meant, I’m sure it’ll be incredible,’ she said with a batting of her eyelids and a twist of her hips. ‘There’ll be explosions and ecstasy. Whatever. It’s all good.’ Or it would be if she could get out of her head. Probably.

‘It is far from all good,’ Duarte said grimly, disentangling himself from her, sitting up and moving to the edge of the lounger.

Orla missed his heat immediately and inwardly railed at her inadequacy. There really was no hope for her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, feeling quietly mortified and very exposed.

He looked at her, his eyes stormy and every line of his body rigid. ‘You never have to apologise for changing your mind.’

‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ she said, keen to make that clear despite the hopelessness she could feel descending. ‘That’s not it at all.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘I started thinking about excellence and expectations and got a bit sidetracked.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Sidetracked?’

‘Well, yes. You must have slept with lots of women. I, on the other hand, have only slept with one man, not very successfully. You’re way more experienced than I am. I have no tricks.’

He retrieved her T-shirt and handed it to her and she put it back on, feeling a little chilly now. So much for hoping her lack of success at sex might have been the fault of her ex or incompatibility. It was clearly neither. It was her. There was something wrong with her.

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

Orla swallowed hard. Right. He was obviously no longer interested and it was back to business. ‘The same as today, I expect,’ she said, determined not to care. Making sure everything went smoothly and avoiding him, most likely. Only instead of being distracted by memories of the kiss on his sofa, she’d be trying not to think of what had happened here.

‘Take the day off.’

What? ‘I can’t.’

‘Everyone here knows what they’re doing, right?’

‘Well, yes...’ Apart from her obviously. She didn’t have a clue.

‘And you have a phone in case of emergencies.’

‘I do, but—’

‘Then you can take the day off.’

Why was he so insistent? Why wasn’t he simply marching off and going in search of someone who did know what they were doing? ‘What for?’

‘Further research into excellence and expectations,’ he said, his deep, hot gaze holding hers so she couldn’t look away even if she’d wanted to. ‘And tricks.’

Oh.

Oh.

Maybe he was still interested. Orla’s pulse skipped a beat and then began to race but she ignored it because she knew now that that translated into precisely nothing. So what would be the point in pursuing things? It would be a disaster again and there was only so much humiliation a person could take.

‘There’s no need for that,’ she said thickly, her throat tight with disappointment and regret.

‘There’s every need for that,’ he countered. ‘You’re not the only one with goals, Orla. I’m not accustomed to mediocrity either, especially when it comes to sex. So take the day off.’

***