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Cradling her head with his hand, he angled his lips over hers, deepening the kiss, while his other hand let his jacket drop to the floor before reaching behind him to push the bedroom door closed. When that stray hand returned from its other task, it settled blissfully over her breast and pressed hard, fully cupping it in his palm while tearing a moan from deep in her belly. When—against her will of course—her misbehaving tongue eagerly followed the pace set by his, he all but growled in gratitude.
Although her body had turned into putty in his hands, she owed it to herself, to the last shreds of decency and self-respect she had left inside her, to wrench her lips away from him and say, “Holden, stop this.”
He snarled and began to trail a path of wet, hot kisses down her neck. “No,” he said firmly, rocking his hips against hers forcefully, letting her know in a very efficient way that he was hard and sexually aroused and so ready to take her.
She had no idea why this excited her to no reason, why his domineering, macho actions made her so impossibly horny. She threw her hair back, wanting to grant better access to his lips, which were now, God bless, brutally ravaging her neck despite her obvious reservations.
While one hand squeezed the roundness of her butt, he moved the other from her breast to her stomach and, easily flicking the button of her wide-leg pants open, slipped it inside her undies.
She whimpered when he slid his long middle finger inside her, her sex muscles both clenching and spreading
for its impalement.
“Holden,” she protested weakly. His only answer was a low, deep moan, since he was pretty busy sliding his finger inside her and now his thumb had found the nub of her clit and began stroking it with slow, dizzying circles.
“Holden, stop this… Holden, I am not a whore,” she protested weakly, but her body said differently, because as she spoke, one arm wrapped itself around his shoulders while a leg, out of its own volition, tightly encircled his hips.
“I know you aren’t,” he whispered hotly. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I had no idea what to say—I’m not really good at this. God, I swear I’m going crazy.” He locked his lips to hers once more and delivered a mind-blowing kiss that drew the air right out of her lungs and flat-out expelled the working cells from her brain.
Too soon to suit her, he pulled away, his chest heaving with harsh, haggard breaths, his eyes stormy. “Take off your clothes.”
Lucy took a step backward, straining to recover her wits as she shook her head. “No.”
“Take off your clothes, Lucy.”
Hot, wanton juices dampened her panties at his demands, but still she held onto the last remnants of her pride. “Why? Because you’re paying me to?”
His hands were swift as they unbuttoned his shirt. “No, because I’m asking you to.”
“I don’t think I should, Holden,” she said shakily, but she was too distracted now to think of all her career master plans, too distracted to count all those steps up the corporate ladder, because he’d just removed his shirt and at the sight of his magnificent upper body, Lucy found that she could think of nothing else right now.
His skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat from the heat of his arousal, and his body was all planes and angles, sturdy, hard and excruciatingly male. Her eyes ran over his flat, tight pectorals, fell to the etched muscles of his washboard abs and followed the moves of the tight, sinewy muscles on his arms as he struggled to remove his pants. As soon as he discarded them to the floor and his large, rock-hard erection popped out of his underwear, Lucy knew that she had gone completely deranged, hospital-worthy mad. Because all she wanted was to touch it. Feel it. Taste it.
His dick was thick and long and pulsing, straining up toward the ceiling in defiance, rooting from a mat of dark black hair below. And as he stood there, completely naked before her, she knew she had no strength—and now, no will—to deny him. A desperate, primal need to please him surged within her. An age-old desire to dance and meld their bodies together in the darkness. A want to mate with him in the most carnal, basic way. Actually, in any of numerous ways.
“Please take them off,” Holden said in the quietest of whispers.
Maybe it was the please that melted her so, every muscle in her body turning supple, yielding to the buttery tone of his words.
When he took a step forward Lucy slowly stepped backward, pausing only when she felt the mattress behind her. She sat down on the edge of it while slowly pulling off her jacket, eyeing him cautiously for his reaction.
He watched her undress as if he were witnessing a sacred ritual, his eyes intent and yearning and burning like candles in the dark.
When she was almost fully naked except for a flimsy pair of nude-colored panties and a matching bra, their eyes held for a long, breathless moment.
“So beautiful…so sexy,” he whispered, closing the space between them and bending down to kiss her. He kissed her with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, his tongue thrusting inside her with slow, deep strokes. Sliding his hands past her shoulders, he reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. When he removed it, Lucy instinctively shielded her breasts from his eyes.
“Let me see you,” he murmured, taking a step back to stare down at his new discovery.
Sighing at the tender way he spoke, she dropped her hands to her sides and let him look his fill. Trembling with emotion, she could almost swear his eyes physically touched her, for her nipples tingled and hardened by the fleeting caress of his gaze.
“Take off your panties,” he said softly.
Lucy found the courage she needed in the fierce sparks of desire glimmering in his eyes. He was staring at her as if she were all he wanted, all he’d ever want. The way his eyes burned for her suddenly made her feel like Supergirl.
Reminding herself that Supergirl was powerful and proud, she stifled the shame, the sudden fear that he might not be pleased with her body and stood to push her panties down to her ankles, kicking them aside.
“Open your legs.”
