Gray Quinn's Baby

‘Do things where?’

Ah. That was a little harder to answer.

Quinn shook his head. ‘If you want to get ahead you’ll have to toughen up, Magenta—unless you want to be stuck outside my door for ever.’

‘I don’t want to be there any more than the girls want to be stuck in the typing pool.’

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t push me, Magenta.’

‘You make me sound like the most exasperating woman you ever met.’

‘By far.’

Now they were both smiling.

Feeling Quinn’s heat shimmering on her senses, she glanced at her wristwatch. ‘I’m not sure it’s sensible for me to be alone with you here late at night.’

‘You think you’re in danger?’

‘I think you could charm the pants off anyone.’

‘What colour are they?’

‘What?’

‘Your pants. If I’m going to charm them off you, it would be useful to know what colour they are.’ Quinn’s lips curved wickedly.

Magenta’s cheeks fired red, remembering her flimsy, flesh-coloured almost-pants. They wouldn’t take much thinking away—one tug and they’d be off.

‘Why, Magenta Steele, I do believe you’re blushing again,’ Quinn murmured as he brushed a strand of hair back from her brow.

‘It’s hot in this kitchen,’ she said stubbornly.

‘Oh no,’ Quinn disagreed. ‘I don’t think it’s that.’

His mouth was just a whisper away. ‘Coffee?’ she suggested weakly. Pressing her hands on the surface in front of her, she forced herself to push away from him. Glancing round the kitchen, she hurried to collect cups, coffee and spoons.

‘Here, let me make it before you scald yourself.’ Quinn covered her trembling hands with his.

‘Are you trying to persuade me to stay?’

‘I don’t need to go to those lengths.’

‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

‘Yes, I am,’ Quinn agreed.

The breath caught in her throat as he drew her close. Her back was to the table and Quinn’s firm thigh was between her legs. She was so aroused, his lightest touch was all it took to make her tremble with awareness. ‘I should go.’

‘No, lady, you should come.’

As Quinn moved against her, she groaned deep down in her throat. What was the use of pretending she didn’t want this? Quinn’s touch was firm and sure, and he gave her the kisses she was aching for, stoking the hunger inside her until she was moving urgently against him in the hunt for more contact, more pressure, more sensation. The aching need grew inside her until it dominated her thoughts and occupied her womb where she longed for Quinn to fill her. He had woken a slumbering appetite and it was clamouring to be fed.

‘I want you,’ she gasped, winding her fingers through his hair so she could pin him to her. Thrusting her body into his, she relished the sensation of his steel against her silk, his muscle against her softly yielding flesh. She was greedy for his lips and rubbed her cheek against his, loving the rasp of his cruel black stubble against her tender skin.

‘Not here. Not now,’ he said huskily, lifting her.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Though she was sure she knew. Not in the kitchen, not the first time. The first time was far too special for that.

When Quinn dipped his head and kissed her again, the question became redundant. He took her mouth with a breath-stealing lack of urgency as if he had all night to tease and arouse her. ‘Do you remember what I promised you?’ he murmured.

That he would make love to her? She would hardly forget a thing like that. She might have had her hang-ups back in the real world, but here in the sixties her body ached for Quinn all the more, knowing his plan. ‘Just promise me one thing.’

‘I promise to pleasure you until you fall asleep exhausted in my arms.’

One final thud of anxiety beat in her heart at the thought of disappointing him, but she pushed it aside. ‘I want something else.’

‘Greedy.’ Running the palm of his hand lightly over her hair, he continued stroking her, from cheek to neck, before brushing the swell of her breast and the imperative thrust of her nipple with a tantalisingly light touch.

‘Whatever happens between us,’ Magenta whispered, trying to catch her breath, ‘you won’t let it interfere with your plans for the business—the chance you’ve given the girls?’

‘They mean a lot to you, don’t they?’ Quinn murmured against her hair.

‘Loyalty means everything to me.’

‘Aren’t you concerned about your own position in the company?’

‘Of course I am, and if I fall short in any way I would expect you to ask me to leave. But not because of this—not because of us.’