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She swallowed convulsively. A silence followed, then she stepped forward, slid her fingers beneath the elastic of his underwear and pushed them down so his pulsing arousal sprang free.
He stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. Gave in to the fantasy that had been raging in his head ever since she’d offered it to him that night in the Maldives. “I have an edge that needs to be taken off,” he drawled in a gravelly voice full of need. “If you are so inclined.”
A flush spread across her cheeks. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. When she sank to her knees, her dark eyes liquid with desire, the blood roared in his head. “Sì,” she murmured. “I am. But you need to tell me if I’m doing it all wrong.”
He would have told her that every time she touched him was right if his brain had been working. But it had ceased functioning when she’d dropped to her knees.
She took him in her hands and closed her fingers around his shaft. Her tentative, exploratory movements as she worked her way up and down the length of him fired his blood like no practiced touch had ever done. The pleasure that wrote itself across her face as he thickened, lengthened, for her inflamed him. And that was before she took him into the heat of her mouth and just about destroyed him.
He buried his hands in her hair and told her how good it felt. How he wanted it. Where he wanted it. Mina indulged him, seemingly as intoxicated as he was. And then he was there, too fast.
He manacled his fingers around her wrist. “You take more of an edge off,” he muttered roughly, in response to the dismayed look on her face, “and it’ll be all over.”
He bent, picked her up and carried her to the bed. She watched as he rolled on a condom, so much bolder than she’d been that first night. Everything was on display in that face of hers, her open lust for him almost pushing him over the edge.
The mattress depressed as he joined her on the bed. Sinking his palms into her waist he lifted her atop him, his aroused body brushing against her in the most potent of caresses. Mina closed her eyes, allowing him to control the contact. “Nate,” she breathed.
Her slick arousal admitted him easily. He brought her down on him, slowly, so she felt every bit of him fill her. Her low moan sent his blood pressure skyrocketing. He wanted, needed, her too much. Needed her to anesthetize his brain as he knew she could.
He flexed his hips and filled her completely. Her gasp split the air. “Okay?” he gritted.
“Sì.” Her eyes were glued to his, glazed with pleasure. “It’s so good
like this.”
A muttered oath escaped him. He lifted her up and brought her down on him again. Again and again, driving deeper into her slick, tight body with every thrust.
“Nate,” Mina cried, her body tightening around his, “Dio mio, Nate...”
He wrapped his fingers around her nape and brought her forward until he could see the pleasure exploding in her eyes. “That’s it, beautiful,” he murmured. “Come for me.”
Her eyes went a molten espresso as she contracted around him. The sensation sent him into a mind-blowing climax that made the room rock.
It was long moments before his brain returned to earth, his hands sliding over Mina’s ample curves. She arched like a kitten into his touch, her eyes heavy-lidded. “Do you want me to go to my own room?”
His heart lurched at the question. He should take her there. Establish some boundaries from the start so they both had their space. But he’d gotten used to having her in his arms. And since when had resisting Mina gotten him anywhere?
“Stay,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple. “I’m going to turn out the lights and I’ll be back.”
She curled into his warmth when he returned, already drifting into unconsciousness as he wrapped himself around her. He tuned out the fact he’d never let another female stay the night in this bed along with the premonition this dangerous game he was playing with his wife was on a course for disaster.
The time for turning back had long passed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IF MINA HAD THOUGHT her first few weeks working for Nate had been tough, her first couple at the Brunswick Developments head office were an exercise in survival. Nate’s marketing director came exactly as advertised. A tough, native New Yorker, she had little time to pander to the CEO’s wife. Not that Mina wanted her to—she wanted exactly the opposite, to stand on her own two feet.
And stand on her own two feet she did, as Carole put her to work immediately with a get-busy-ask-questions-as-you-need-to approach.
After floundering through one project, afraid to appeal to her intimidating new boss for help, Mina started asking questions. She tapped her boss when she needed to and winged it when she could, learning more in those two weeks than she was sure she would have in a year at school.
When Carole capped off her second week with praise for her first complete marketing plan, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. It was almost enough to banish her nerves as she and Nate drove uptown to his mother’s penthouse for the cocktail party she was throwing in their honor.
Nate had put his mother off as long as he could manage to give Mina time to adjust to the city and her new job, but he could stall no longer, so tonight was the night she was to be introduced to the toast of New York society.
The nerve-racking drive with Nate weaving in and out of traffic, combined with her nerves, started to make her feel nauseous. Odd when she didn’t ever remember getting carsick, but this was Manhattan they were talking about.
Nate studied her face as they rode the elevator to his mother’s apartment. “You okay? You look a little green.”
