Misbehaving with the Millionaire: The Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress. Kimberly Lang
flipped down the seat next to Evie and sat the vat of popcorn in her lap. As the trailers played, Evie fidgeted in her seat.
“Will, I can’t see. Trade with me?”
The person in front of Evie didn’t seem tall enough to block her vision, but he shrugged and switched seats. Evie handed him the popcorn and whispered, “Be sure to share with Gwen.”
Evie could use some lessons in subtlety. He wondered which of her tutors could work that in to a lesson plan.
Not that he minded. His elbow brushed Gwen’s on the armrest, and she pulled away with a whispered “Excuse me.”
“Popcorn?”
“No, thank you.” She fixed her eyes on the screen and ignored him as the movie started. Okay, so he couldn’t honestly say she was ignoring him since watching the movie was technically what they were here to do, but she didn’t look his way again.
He lost interest in the movie quickly, which was fine since he was far more interested in the woman sitting as far away from him as the small theater seat would allow. He didn’t fully understand the magnetic pull of Gwen, but as he’d already discovered, it was nearly impossible to resist. His earlier resolve of not getting involved with his sister’s tutor—much less a woman from outside his normal sphere—was rapidly eroding. They were both adults and the attraction was obviously mutual. As long as they kept things low-key, he couldn’t think of a single good reason not to explore that mutual attraction—regardless of where it ranked on Miss Behavior’s appropriateness scale.
Gwen continued to give him what he was beginning to call the Polite Treatment as they walked back to the car and during the drive home. An outsider would never surmise anything was wrong, and at no point could he say she was anything other than the perfect guest. She was just so stinking polite, and he knew it was a complete act.
Back at the apartment, he opened the door and held it for Evie and Gwen. Evie took a mere two steps inside before she stretched her arms over her head and yawned loudly.
“I’m pooped and going to bed. See you in the morning. G’nite, Will. G’nite, Gwen.”
The kid was a terrible actress. But she was in her room with the door closed before her words quit echoing, and he was left alone with Gwen for the second time that day.
“I’m pretty beat myself,” Gwen said a bit too brightly. “I think I’ll head on to bed, too. Thank yo—”
He interrupted her, knowing full well how interrupting hovered close to the top of Gwen’s list of pet peeves, but there was really no avoiding it. He wasn’t going to let her retreat behind closed doors just yet. “There are a couple of things we still need to clear up.”
“Really? What do you…” She trailed off as he closed the slight distance between them, and she took two small steps backward only to find her back against the foyer wall. Her eyes flashed as he took advantage of her position and moved within inches of her body.
Reaching out, he captured the errant lock of hair that draped across her shoulder again. Twisting it around his finger, he played with the silky strand until her breathing became shallow, and she asked, “What, Will?”
“First, business and pleasure are two totally separate situations. I’m not one to confuse the two, and I’m surely not going to deny myself one because of the other. I hired you to work with Evie. This—” he released her hair, only to move his hand to the elegant column of her neck, pleased to feel the pulse thumping wildly there “—has nothing to do with that.”
Gwen’s eyes widened as his other hand slid up her neck to cradle her jaw. She leaned in toward him, and he felt his own heartbeat accelerate.
“Secondly, Miss Behavior, I don’t give a damn about what’s appropriate.”
Oh. My. Gwen’s thoughts scrambled, and her libido woke with a mighty cheer. Will’s face hovered inches from hers, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t give a damn about appropriateness, either.
Yes, you do, her conscience argued, but it was a token protest rapidly smothered by the need that had been simmering all evening and burst to life at the touch of his fingers on her skin.
She lifted her hand to his chest, where his heart thumped heavily with excitement. It slid, seemingly of its own accord, up over soft black cotton until she found the warm skin at his collar. Will’s breath hissed as her fingers moved around strong muscles to his nape and slid up to tangle in his silky hair. Just one little kiss, that’s all…
That slight pressure seemed to be all the permission he needed, and his mouth closed on hers. A lifetime of civility hadn’t prepared her for the raw power of his kiss or the force of sensations that ripped through her. Heat. Hunger. Desire.
His tongue slipped across hers, tasting and tempting, and demanding a response, as lightning bolted down her spine and lit her on fire. Her hand tightened in his hair, holding him to her as she melted from the contact.
The man can kiss, she thought, before he trailed scorching kisses along her jaw to the soft spot at the base of her ear. All remaining rational thought fled when Will nipped the sensitive skin with strong teeth, and she gave over to the purely carnal thrill of his touch.
And, oh, oh, oh…his touch. Will’s hands moved from her neck, massaging circles down the tense muscles of her back, to the indentation of her waist, where his fingers splayed for a momentary squeeze before pulling her body into complete contact with his.
Hard thighs. Powerful chest. Strong arms holding her against him. She rose on tiptoe, aligning her hips with the straining bulge in his jeans. Will groaned, his hand moving to the small of her back to hold her in place. Unadulterated want slammed into her, leaving her reeling on wobbly legs.
“Will,” she whispered against his lips.
He broke the kiss, his breath coming in short pants and looked down at her with heavy-lidded eyes. A heartbeat later, he set her away from him, keeping his hands on her hips to steady her.
“I know.” He exhaled and dropped his forehead to hers. “I got a bit carried away there.”
Coherent thought eluded her. What? What was he talking about? Why was he talking? Her foggy brain wouldn’t clear and she tried to make sense of his words. Will held her hand loosely as he led her down the long hallway to her bedroom door.
Twining his fingers in hers, he kissed her knuckles before brushing his lips gently across her mouth. “Good night, Gwen. See you in the morning.”
Good night? What? No! Clarity arrived moments too late as she watched Will disappear into his bedroom at the end of the hall.
No, no, no! Damn it! Needy nerve cells screamed at her to call him back, to bang on his door and demand he continue where he left off. Her skin tingled with electrical afterglow and she throbbed in sync with her heartbeat. She took a step toward Will’s closed door.
Thankfully her sanity chose that moment to return. What on earth was she doing? Even worse, what had she done? Making out with Will Harrison in the hallway while his teenage sister was just footsteps away? Not to mention the whole “it would be bad to sleep with your boss” thing. She’d lost what was left of her cotton-picking mind with that one kiss.
One mind-blowing, toe-curling, too-good-to-be-real kiss.
She retreated to her bedroom and closed the door softly behind her. Kicking off her shoes, she left them where they landed and padded across the carpet to the cool marble tiles of the adjoining bath. Cold water splashed on her face helped bring her back to reality, and a sigh-by-sigh replay of what just happened flashed across her mind in Technicolor.
She closed her eyes and groaned. She’d practically climbed him like a tree. But, oh, what a fine tree he was, all heat and hardness….
Gwen forced her eyes open, banishing the visual, only to grimace at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair stood