Hot Boss, Wicked Nights

‘For God’s sake, Kate… You’re killing me here.’

Still straddling his thighs, she looked down on him.

His eyes seemed to swallow her up and suddenly it wasn’t about feeling powerful and desirable any more. It wasn’t about being in control any more. This was something soul deep.

He blew out a breath, disturbing the tips of her hair. ‘You turn me inside out.’

‘You mean Shakira turns you on.’

He shook his head slowly against the mound of pillows. ‘As Shakira, but so much more as Kate.’

As Kate? Plain and boring Kate? ‘You can’t mean that.’

‘You bet I do.’ His hands reached for her skirt and searched for the fastening. ‘Come on, honey, enough of the fantasy. How does this thing come off?’ He found the catch and snapped it open, drawing the flimsy garment away, leaving her exposed to his gaze. ‘Kate’s the one I want to make love with. And I want to be able to touch her. All over.’

‘And what if I’m not done with my fantasy?’

He reached for her breasts, rasping his thumbs gently over her nipples with deliberate intent. ‘You’re done.’

Pointless to argue. Arguing wasted time and she was as needy as he. She lowered herself slowly onto him, felt him totally naked for the first time. Felt his heat and strength fill her as she slid down his rock-hard length.

All the way to her womb. She watched his eyes watching hers, quiet, calm, and felt the connection. And took him deeper inside her, to her heart.

It only lasted a moment, that shared accord, but she knew it was dangerous. A man like Damon didn’t want her heart. Didn’t want anything beyond what they had. Her recklessness had got her into this situation in the first place, yet she twisted her hands into her mass of hair, lifted her buttocks and sank onto him again. And again. Over and over until she saw the calm, clear topaz in his eyes turn stormy.

Until smooth seas grew turbulent, sucking her under, then tossing her into a whirlpool that knew no sense, no reason. Only passion that swept them both into uncharted waters, because as she surrendered to the maelstrom she knew, with absolute certainty, that, willing or not, he was right there with her.

Kate watched the Opera House glistening like pink sails on Sydney Harbour as their aircraft made its final approach in the early morning sunlight. The familiar harbour ferries left white trails on the brightening water, Friday morning traffic snarls already blocking the main arterial roads and it was only seven a.m.

The last day of the working week. On Monday she’d be one of those workers. A worker whose focus was anywhere but work. Struggling with holiday enquiries metres away from the man who’d been her lover for the past ten days. Smelling his clothes, his skin if he came within coo-ee of her. Hearing his familiar deep voice in the next room—or, worse, as he leaned over her computer to talk with her, those perceptive eyes probing hers for answers she wasn’t going to give.

She reached for her suit jacket and slipped her shoes on as they taxied toward the terminal. Her business attire went some way towards accomplishing her professional persona, at least outwardly.

Except she’d not been able to resist the designer shoes she’d seen at Bali International. Black, shiny and five inches high. And the way her foot arched in them made her feel oh-so-feminine.

She’d never worn such elegantly high heels before. She’d never felt so desirable before. Especially when she’d seen Damon’s instant reaction.

‘They’re hardly practical for travel,’ he pointed out at the airport even as his appreciative gaze lingered on her legs. ‘You’ll end up barefoot and I’ll have to carry you through Sydney airport.’

‘Is it worth it, though?’ she tossed back.

He grinned. ‘Hell, yeah.’

But it had been a big mistake wearing them on the plane. And she’d done the unthinkable—she’d dumped her sensible, comfortable work shoes in the ladies’ room bin there.

Her whole adult life had revolved around support shoes. Her hip problem was also the reason behind her regular belly-dance classes. They helped keep her flexible despite Damon’s accusations to the contrary on that first morning in Bali. She almost smiled at the memory. Just once she wanted to look sexy.

For herself or for Damon?

She mentally shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about the way he’d looked at her. It was over.

‘Do you want to stop for breakfast before you go home?’

Damon’s voice intruded on her thoughts. He sounded upbeat—did he think she’d change her mind about their relationship? Or was it a case of his supreme confidence in changing it for her?