The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance 3)

At the mention of the list, he grew hard in an instant. The next item might be his favorite, a fantasy he’d never played out.

“The desk,” he growled. He didn’t mean to growl. But the idea of making love to her in his office tightened his vocal cords, turned his muscles to steel. He’d been saving the desk for later… for now, apparently.

“Oh, the desk,” she purred, smiling against his lips. “Yes, that’s better than a night on the town.”

He grinned. “I must be in heaven.”

“Not yet.” she said, her low, sultry voice making him even harder. She tugged his glasses off his face and set them on the counter behind her, then slid her hands over his shoulders, pushing his suit jacket off his arms.

He mirrored her movement, slipping one strap of her dress off her shoulder. The dress fell dangerously low, exposing the pale flush of one areola. His other hand fell to her hip and he squeezed, an attempt to hold on to his dwindling willpower long enough to get her to the desk and not throw her down on the kitchen table. Then again… “How about here instead?”

She laughed off his suggestion and he felt a wave of relief. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Come with me.” Weaving her fingers in his, she led him down the seemingly mile-long corridor to his office. Not that he could complain about the view—he kept his eyes on her derriere the entire time, loving how she moved, the way her dress hugged her hips. He couldn’t wait to get it off her. To have her under him.

In his office, she dropped his hand and flicked on the fireplace with the remote. The fake flames licked to life, softening the room in an orange glow. She crooked a finger and he went to her, his body practically vibrating. How is it he’d had her repeatedly and still wanted more?

She unbuttoned his shirt, parting the material and sweeping her fingers over his chest. He sucked in a breath, loving the feel of her hands on his body. The way she reverently touched him. He molded his hands over her shoulders, warming her with his palms before pushing the straps aside and exposing her breasts. Such perfect breasts. He cupped them in his hands and thumbed her nipples as her eyes closed. How was it they both enjoyed touching one another in equal measure? He shouldn’t question it. And then he couldn’t, because next she reached for his belt.

When his pants slid to his knees, he unzipped her dress, letting it fall to her hips. He stomped on his pants and left them inside out on the floor while she wiggled out of the dress, her lithe movements causing his erection to throb painfully.

She hadn’t been wearing a bra, he’d known that. But now he saw she hadn’t been wearing underwear, either. Eyes on the V between her thighs, he shucked his boxer briefs and reached her in one step, his lips hitting hers hard, suddenly unable—or unwilling—to slow down.

Kimber was no longer smiling or teasing, but she was responding. Kissing him as hard as he kissed her, her tongue in his mouth, her hands roving over his chest. He palmed her ass at the same time she grabbed his cock. With a low grunt of satisfaction, he backed them through the room toward the desk, sucking in greedy gulps of air between kisses. His leg hit the corner of his mahogany desk, rattling the pen cup sitting there.

The disruption made her pull her lips from his. He watched as she took in the blotter, the stapler, the wooden inbox, then lifted her eyes to his, a question simmering there.

“Do it,” he told her, half a smile creeping onto his face.

With wide eyes, she glanced at the surface again. “I don’t think I can. It’s all so… neat.”

He moved her aside and, much as he hated to, let go of her hips. Arm on one side of the desk, he lifted an eyebrow. Dare me?

She bit her lip, something irreverent and fiery in her expression. That was all it took. Starting at one side, he swiped his arm across the desk, knocking everything off. Various office implements clattered to the floor.

When he faced her, she had her hand to her throat as if in shock. She was a vision, completely nude save for those tall, tall shoes, her nipples peaked, her hair coming down, her mouth forming a perfect O. “I can’t believe you did that.”

He didn’t speak, but crushed his mouth into hers. She tasted like peppermint, smelled like cucumber, and the scent curled around his brain and stalled his every thought. Kicking his chair out of the way, he lifted and sat her onto the shining desk, then took hold of her ankles. “Worth it,” he said. He spread her legs and she let him, a foxy little smile on her face.

He draped her knees over his shoulders, kissing first one breast and then the other. A breathy moan sounded in her throat as the heels of her shoes scraped his back. She arched toward him and he purposefully made his way to her thighs.