Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress

Chest to chest, hip to hip, the hunger in her belly roared. She moaned again, twisted against him, wanting closer, wanting naked, wanting complete consummation.

He pressed against her and his body was as hard and strong as she’d imagined. Hers grew softer, shifting, making space for him, her curves melting into his planes. Yet inside the tension of desire was pulling ever tighter and her muscles wanted to move. The kisses grew even more fiery. Passion, more raw, more extreme than she’d known.

She couldn’t stop the instinctive rocking of her hips, only able to make tiny movements she was so squashed between the concrete wall behind her and the even harder pressure of his body up against hers. The pleasure and the torture were too exquisite. She thought he was as turned on as she, his body was so rigid and she was sure she could feel him shaking while he took possession of her mouth with his tongue. Oh, his tongue and his lips tasted of paradise and they alternately nibbled and devoured her. She moaned again under the onslaught of sensual pleasure, the promise of carnal delight and she couldn’t wait much more.

She wanted that tongue everywhere; she wanted him everywhere. She wanted it all, right now.

And then he was gone. Wrenching his head free of her hands, which were roughly tugging through his thick hair, he stepped back, whirled round and planted his back on the wall next to hers. He rammed both fists beside him onto the cool concrete. It must have hurt. Side by side they stood. Silent save for the rush of breathing and the fight to get it back to normal speed.

Finally James spoke. Quick, rough, all banter banished. ‘You were right.’

Bemused, she turned her head, wanting to read his expression. But side on she saw nothing but the set of his jaw and lowered lids as he scrutinised the stairs going down ahead of them.

She just wanted him to step closer again.

His frown deepened and when he spoke again the words impacted much more clearly. ‘That wasn’t a good idea.’

A chill feathered over her—making goose bumps rise on her overheated skin. For all her supposed wild-child ways she’d never contemplated sex in a stairwell before. And one minute ago she hadn’t just been contemplating it, she’d nearly begun to beg. She’d been the one moaning; she’d been the one rocking against him; she’d been the one to incite it all. He’d just stayed tight and hard—right up against her. Except for his tongue, which he damn well knew how to use, he hadn’t been moving at all.

And he was regretting even that already. Here she was feeling both shattered and completely turned on and he was thinking, uh oh, bad move. It was written all over him—in the way he’d thrust away from her, not into her as she’d wanted.

Humiliation seeped through every cell. Had she turned him off? He’d only asked for a kiss and she’d offered him everything on a platter. Side order of fries and free dessert included—all at once. Too far, too fast.

And he wasn’t interested. Right now he wouldn’t even look at her.

‘Then let’s just forget it ever happened.’ That sure was what she intended to do. With cold precision she moved forward, up the last flight of stairs to where their offices were.

He didn’t reply, didn’t follow. Didn’t appear in the office for another twenty minutes—during which time she’d managed a side trip to the bathroom to fix her face and hair. She winced at her reflection—all big eyes and puffy lips and hard nipples.

When he walked back into the office suite he didn’t acknowledge her. Just nodded generally in the direction of her and the temp secretary, stalking straight into his office and closing the door. Clearly he’d paid a trip to the little room too because his hair wasn’t sticking up the way it had after she’d had her fingers through it.

She’d never had an experience where she’d slipped so out of control. As far as he’d be concerned she’d have proved herself right on one thing only—that she was pretty fast. But he’d never know that that was only with him. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself like that again.

Utterly mortified she sat and forced herself to focus and work hard on the arrangements. She refused to fail now. It was precisely what they all expected her to do. Even James. Especially James.

Now more than ever, she needed to prove him wrong.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE exhibition opening at the contemporary art gallery was a do that many of the socialites had been hyped up about for days. It was going to be the most fabulous party, darling, everyone who was anyone was going to be there—the Premier of the State, the actors, the models and, yes, even the newest princess in the city.