Burn My Hart (The Notorious Harts 2)

One of them lifts a finger to me, having me wait while she makes a call, presumably to Theo’s assistant. I stand there, my desire only increasing at these hurdles. A moment later she reaches into the drawer beside her and pulls out a lanyard. She prints my name from a small machine and slides it into the plastic, passing the ID tag over to me with a nod to the end of the desk. ‘Sign yourself in and out. Thanks.’

I slip it over my head and do as she said, then I have to go through the security machines, and my cheeks heat at the fact I’m not wearing underwear—fortunately that detail doesn’t show up on the screen as I pass through it.

The whole way to the ninetieth floor, my stomach lurches but I don’t have much space for nerves when longing and need are taking over my body. The doors ping open and I’m greeted by a bank of three assistants.

‘Theo Hart,’ I murmur as I approach, my eyes lifting to scan the space. It’s a double-height void with floor to ceiling windows behind the reception desk. The furnishings are sparse and modern, all sleek timber and steel, and there are enormous flower arrangements spaced throughout, giving the bare environment a feeling of beauty and softness. The floor is highly polished concrete and my heels make a clicking noise as I walk.

They’re forewarned of my arrival, naturally, and so is Theo. He’ll be waiting for me, wondering what I’m doing here. Impatience and pleasure zip through me.

‘He’s just finishing a conference call, if you’d like to take a seat.’

But I’m not someone who likes being told what to do, and I have no intention of cooling my heels in Theo’s reception.

‘I’ll wait in his office—’ before she can open her mouth to object ‘—he won’t mind.’ I smile confidently and stride towards one of three doors on this level. His name is emblazoned across it in gold. With a smile, I push the heavy wood inwards. It’s everything I’d expect of Theo’s office. Huge, naturally, with more of the same modern designer décor as the reception. In here though, instead of flower arrangements, there are living plants. What looks like a fiddle leaf fig grows in one corner and a fern in another. And the pièce de résistance is a marble sculpture of Poseidon positioned beside the desk.

I smile at the piece and then my eyes fix on Theo. He’s sitting at the boardroom table in the centre of the room, and his eyes lift to mine in a way that sears my soul.

A smile lifts one side of his lips, a smile of curiosity.

A voice speaks out in the room, the kind of disembodied voice heard in teleconferences. I wonder who he’s talking to and how long he’ll be.

His eyes continue to hold mine for several seconds and then he turns back to the screen, speaking over whoever else is talking. ‘I only have a few minutes. Let’s wrap this up, shall we?’

Pleasure at my ability to command his attention shoots through me. I turn away from him briefly, returning to the door and clicking the lock into place. When I turn back to him, his eyes are resting on me so my tummy swoops. I walk slowly towards the table, making sure to keep myself behind his laptop, away from the camera.

I start with my hair. He loves my hair. Lifting my fingers to the pins that have it secured in a bun high on my head, I loosen them one by one, slowly, deliberately placing each pin on the boardroom table and eventually loosening my hair so it falls in wild, tumbling curls down my back before drawing it over one shoulder.

His eyes are locked to me.

Good.

‘We just need your sign-off on the plans before we can progress.’

Consternation

is clear on his face as he draws his gaze back to the screen. ‘I’m not going to sign off on them until they’re ready. The tests I’ve seen show half a dozen areas that don’t meet requirements.’

Flustered voices try to assuage his worries. It’s so like him to be able to throw a cat amongst the pigeons, so to speak, with a few short words.

I reach for my jacket next, removing it slowly, carefully, placing it over the back of the nearest chair. Then, one by one, I undo my buttons, deliberately moving slowly down the line of my chest until my silk blouse separates to reveal a simple lace bra.

A slight hiss escapes his lips.

I smile at him as I let the shirt fall down my arms, the rustle of silk against my skin only exacerbating my anticipation. His Adam’s apple jerks as he swallows. I unclasp my bra; his breathing grows heavy. I don’t push it off too quickly. Instead, I savour in the removal, sliding the straps down my arms, lifting my fingers to brush my nipples as I let the scrap of lace fall to the floor.

‘I need more details.’ He addresses the WebEx without taking his eyes off me.

I’m not smiling now. Holding his gaze, I reach for the zip of my skirt and glide it down my hip and then the fabric rustles to the floor, revealing my nakedness to his heated gaze. His cheeks are slashed with dark colour. Someone on the other side of the screen is talking in detail and I know it’s important or Theo would have disconnected the call already.

It gives me a rush of power to know I’m tormenting him. Stepping out of the skirt, I move slightly closer and then, at the edge of his desk, I cup my breasts first, letting my fingertips roll over my nipples, tweaking them slowly, imagining my fingers are his fingers, remembering all the ways he touches me there, all the ways he drives me crazy. One hand moves lower, drawing invisible circles over my flat stomach until I reach my sex.

His eyes widen and I hear a muttered curse. It silences everyone, even the people speaking.

‘Look—’ he stares at the screen, then at me, and there is a helplessness in his eyes that does something funny to my insides because Theo Hart is never helpless ‘—get me more details and we’ll speak tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir, but if you’ll just—’

I move my fingers faster and make a tiny, muted moaning noise that has Theo standing abruptly, leaning over the screen. ‘Tomorrow.’ He snaps the lid down in the same motion he sweeps towards me and pulls me to his body, his lips claiming mine in a kiss that is pure white-hot desperation.