A Week To Be Wild / Legal Seduction. JC Harroway
his arm and moved in her direction.
Dragging her thoughts and her eyes from Alex, Libby smiled, heat warming her cheeks from her transparent leering at Jeremy’s boss.
Get a grip.
Alex sat on the edge of his desk, observing their interaction with an indifference that sent an army of ants marching beneath her skin.
‘Olivia will be in charge of marketing for Able-Active.’
His voice held none of the sexy drawl of last night, but the way his mouth caressed her name reverberated through her body until she felt the memory of that mouth’s intimate caress between her legs. A memory constantly at the forefront of her mind.
Jeremy offered a surprisingly limp handshake and a tepid smile. ‘I’ll leave you to your business.’
Alex nodded again, his stare back on Libby, flooding her body with wave after wave of turbulent heat. But she’d yet to see what she wanted to see—the same aching discord currently pounding her equilibrium.
Hormones. It was just hormones.
‘Molly, could you please bring coffee downstairs?’ He quirked an eyebrow at Libby in question.
She nodded to the younger woman, confirming that he’d guessed her beverage of choice.
‘I’m taking Ms Noble on a tour of the Able-Active office.’
Molly nodded and retreated, seemingly completely unaffected by the decadent rumble of her boss’s voice, whereas Libby felt it wash over her, lifting every hair and tingling every nerve ending.
She wanted more of it. More of the sexy grunts and groans he’d uttered last night from between her thighs. More of him asking her what she wanted, handing her control on a silver platter. More of his buttoned-up English accent cursing as he finally reached his limit of self-denial and lunged for her.
Who knew this part of her lurked inside? What had he unleashed?
They faced off, alone at last. He gave nothing away. She prayed her own transparency matched his. Would he renege on their deal? Send her home? Perhaps he’d simply pretend last night hadn’t happened and get straight down to business?
Not that he was dressed for business. She indulged herself, eyeing him from head to toe. She’d expected another of his expensive suits, to see his magnificent body encased in fine tailoring and crisp linen, but he wore jeans and a graphic T-shirt—an outfit that did nothing to diminish his attractiveness. If anything, it heightened it, and the T-shirt was a playful touch of whimsy that almost curled her lip in a smile. Alex Lancaster a gamer? She’d been right about the geeky surfer dude.
She lifted her stare from the casual, low-slung fit of his jeans, which showcased the bulge of his crotch. A bulge considerably smaller than the one he’d walked away with last night, when he’d left her hotel room unsatisfied. Fresh heat climbed her neck. She should have stopped him. Given him some relief. Finished him the way he’d finished her.
Her knees wobbled at the memory of his mouth on her, those dark eyes piercing, watching while she exploded on his tongue…
Damn. Must she eye-fuck him at every opportunity?
Her face burned. But the intensity of the look he gave her provided little respite from the boil of her blood.
The speech she’d prepared fled. She scanned the room rather that look at him, while her brain scrambled for suitable morning-after conversation—the spectacular view of the London skyline, the tasteful, minimalist art on the walls and the rich aroma of leather from the expensive furniture.
When her gaze ended its tour back on him, he continued to watch her with slightly narrowed eyes.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d turn up this morning.’
That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Fancy a repeat performance? Want to lean over my desk while I fuck you from behind? You’re a selfish lover and the deal is off. All those were closer to her imaginings.
‘Why? I agreed. I’m a professional.’
Sometimes. When she wasn’t drooling over him.
She was a big girl—one who could separate personal from business. Not that she’d ever been tested before now. Oh, how she hoped her faith in her own abilities was justified.
Liar.
Right now, all she wanted to do was strip him from his dressed-down street clothes and see if she could make him hard with just her mouth.
His expression inscrutable, his eyes flicked over her face and he stood. ‘Shall we?’
He moved to the door, holding it open and gesturing her to re-enter the real world. So calm. So indifferent.
Clearly they weren’t going to discuss last night. Discuss the inferno of chemistry they’d fanned to life. Only her mind was stuck there. Stuck on vivid images of him splaying her over his desk, his sofa, the floor, and continuing where they left off in her hotel room.
But Mr Lancaster was all business this morning. And that was where her head belonged. In the game. The game of marketing for Able-Active and the game of bedroom quid pro quo. She wouldn’t become professionally distracted from the first and she couldn’t become personally distracted by the second.
She crossed his office, her eyes flicking up to his as she passed him in the doorway, and headed back the way she’d come to the elevators. He walked beside her, his arm so close she could reach out and touch him. Perhaps she should. Apologise for last night. For leaving him…hanging. Suggest they rectify the imbalance of the situation later tonight.
He pressed the call button and they both gazed up. The feeling of déjà vu was strong enough to send licks of flame trickling down Libby’s spine. Just like last night, the elevator was empty. Alex pressed the button for a few floors down and the doors closed.
The crackle of tension ricocheted around inside Libby’s head. She craved more of those searing, all-consuming kisses. Damn, the man could kiss, and she’d already experienced his phenomenal oral skills. But instead of dispelling her torrid urges it had only intensified them. She wanted to stop the elevator and beg him to fuck her right here, right now.
Her eyes scanned the interior of the car, searching for security cameras.
And then the doors slid open, and his upper-class voice dragged her from her fantasies.
‘After you.’
Seriously? She could barely walk. Her nipples ached, her panties were ruined and her fingers twitched to get hold of him. She should have asked him to spend the night—that way she could have quenched her thirst with the perfect wake-up call this morning.
Alex, by comparison, seemed calm, efficient and businesslike. The ultimate professional. While she longed to play hooky with him, forget marketing budgets and brand awareness strategies and spend the week holed up in her hotel room, living out every dirty fantasy he’d inspired.
No. He’d definitely changed his mind. A cold, hard rock settled in her stomach.
He led her down a corridor that was a carbon copy of the one housing his office, again holding open the door for her to enter ahead of him when they reached their destination.
Libby stalled. ‘Office’ was a fairly grand term for what was essentially a small room with two desks, a single computer and a phone.
A woman in her early twenties looked up from the screen and stood on their arrival. ‘Hi, Alex.’
First-name terms? Of course.
He smiled, and Libby glanced away.
‘Hailey, this is Olivia Noble. She’s agreed to help with our marketing campaign. Put us on the map.’
He turned to Libby, the smile for his pretty young employee sliding from his face.
‘Hailey