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“No, Ms. Davenport, it’s your entire expression. It’s too controlled, your jaw is tight. Give me slackness, part your lips, give me an on-the-beach sensual look while holding the throw tighter.”
Monica tried parting her lips, all while wondering how much they could improve with Photoshop, when suddenly a dark figure moved through the swinging doors at the end. Monica’s assistant turned, gasped, and stepped aside to make room for it. Recognition struck Monica and her system froze and restarted as though the bolt of lightning had struck her dead on her sex.
Her nerve endings trilled with a strange sexual alertness. Daniel came to a stop a few feet away from the photographer, his feet braced apart, his stance oozing that air of natural authority that always surrounded him. His shoulders were draped in a dark black button-down shirt that matched his slacks, and all clad in black, he looked even blonder, tanner, his eyes greener—every feature of his enhanced and striking.
Instantly, his
forest green eyes locked intimately with hers, raking her form almost possessively. Heat. It spread suddenly all over her and she became hyper-attuned to him. Her awareness of him had heightened to new levels, and now it was almost painful in its force.
This morning, what they’d done last night had felt surreal. Now her pussy throbbed in memory, still sore from his touches, becoming strangely even sorer at his presence. Monica had never been more painfully mindful of how empty she felt inside until she stared at Daniel Lexington across a room full of dozens of people while desperately, desperately wanting him inside her.
His intense green eyes stayed fastened to hers, only roaming briefly as he once again took inventory. She became aware of every bit of skin exposed from the cashmere. Her toes, her ankles, a part of her calf, her rounded shoulders, one of her arms … What was he thinking? Why didn’t he smile? Oh, God, she felt like one of those women. One of those who dreamed at night of this man, who dreamed of being the Prince of the Windy City’s princess. The thought snapped her back into herself only to realize Chris was shouting at the top of his lungs, “Yes! Yes! That’s the look!”
Monica jerked her eyes back to the camera, but her body still ached with such intimate force that she instinctively drew her arms protectively over her pained breasts, trapping the cashmere against her flesh, her heart pounding in awareness of Daniel’s green eyes watching her.
The blinding flashes stopped, and Chris lowered the camera with a frown. He seemed somehow disappointed that she had lost the magic as soon as she glanced at the lens. He turned to study the source of Monica’s change, and his eyes lit when he spotted Daniel.
“Would you mind if we tried something with you, sir?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Daniel said easily, his voice making Monica’s flesh pebble.
“We need a sweater in his size,” he said, and Monica’s assistant rushed to grant the request.
Meanwhile Monica watched him strip off his shirt, and her pussy clenched despite her wanting to stay cool and aloof. His chest became exposed, and Monica almost climaxed, visibly jolting at the sight.
“Forget the sweater, look at this! Bare skin it is!” He began giving orders while Monica and the rest of the people in the room almost drooled over Daniel’s torso. Thick chords popped up in his hands and forearms, disappearing into the bulging muscles of his biceps, shoulders, and triceps.
“Cool tat!” Chris said. “Great quality work, great bod, too! Ms. Davenport, there’s going to be a change. I will take only some sample pictures of you with our new guest. Our ads will probably be as planned, with you alone, but in the meantime let us get into the mood of seduction.”
He turned to whisper something to Daniel, and Daniel nodded and pulled off his shoes and tossed them aside with two loud thumps. He ended up in dark slacks, a belt, and a chest that got her saliva glands working like nothing else.
His walk as he came over caused a tightening deep in her abdominal wall. She was so sensitive today even dressing had felt sexual, and all those places throbbed even more as the blood rushed in their direction.
A strange dread ran through her as he lifted the blanket to join her, somehow taking care not to reveal her to the dozens of people gathered around. He turned his big body to face her, his broad back angled toward the camera as he rolled to his side against her, covering her nakedness from view.
As soon as he dropped the throw over his hips and hers, his legs entangled with her nude ones, and Monica’s body chemistry altered. Everything—heart, lungs, flesh—heightened to alarming levels.
His scent stole into her lungs, causing her mouth to water even more. “What are you doing here?” she murmured, horribly breathless, hot, aching.
He bent so only she could hear. “I’m a little early for the board meeting and was told I could find you here.” His strangely hoarsened voice flooded her with memories of last night and the coiling, writhing tension of desire came alive within her as he pulled her against him, the move proprietary, possessive—protective.
He braced up on one elbow, his powerful arm around her waist, his back shielding her from everyone present as he ducked his head so that practically no one could see her. But him. She felt immediately safe, while at the same time, electricity crackled through her, clanging off all the warning bells in her body.
Years ago, she had felt enormous pleasure when she’d lived with the Lexingtons temporarily, and Daniel had held her at night. She’d count the hours until he’d appear, large and manly at her door, and when he slid his arms around her, his touch would release some strange calming hormones in her body.
But that had started changing, even back then.
When the tears stopped, the hormones clamoring for his touch had been different ones, frightening ones, and had been the reason Monica had pulled away.
Now his effect had magnified to proportions beyond her understanding, his suddenly familiar nearness causing every cell in her body to jolt into wakefulness. She wanted to melt, while at the same time, she feared the power of his nearness, remembering how she’d broken in the funeral when he held her, how she always seemed to shatter either in pain or in pleasure in no place else except his arms.…
“Ms. Davenport, if you would embrace our male?”
Heart accelerating, Monica gingerly slid her free arm around his waist, her hand splayed on his muscled back as the other soon joined it. His eyes darkened, and he was looking down at her with a strangely animalistic gaze, the slight flare of his nostrils making him appear almost menacing in his hunger.
“All right, now act like you want each other. Look, touch, nuzzle…”
Their bodies seemed to seek closer contact, and his muscles quivered under her fingers as her hands slid almost involuntarily over his skin. Time came to a standstill. Noises fading. People fading. They were breathing hard and she forgot everyone in the room. Even the screams.
