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What the hell has come over me?
I stalk towards him, my hand extended, waiting for the scrap of lace he must have somewhere, but he grabs my hand and jerks me against him once more.
‘I like the way you taste.’
And he pushes me against the glass, and his hand pushes between my legs, and he pads a thumb over my clit. I’m already at breaking point. His body traps mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. He watches me from a distance as he torments me with his thumb, moving faster until my breath is ragged and my eyes are huge.
‘I want to taste you tonight. I want to spread your legs and dip my tongue inside you. Then I want to flip you over and take you from behind. You are so fucking hot when you’re turned on.’
I whimper—a sound of pure confusion—because the pleasure of his words combined with the torment of his touch is almost more than I can bear.
I swear—a low, throbbing whisper—as my pleasure bursts like a waterfall. I come. I come hard. And as I do he slips a finger deep inside me, swirling it against my walls as my muscles contract. He stays there as I fall apart and then he glides his finger out and lifts it to his mouth, sucking on it while his eyes watch me.
The door is pushed inwards. It happens so quickly. I am still breathless, and I’m sure my orgasm is written all over my face. It’s not like it was my first time, but this was Jack. He’s Jack Grant—seriously sexy.
He should come with a health warning.
I hear my colleagues move into the room and I turn away on the pretext of getting myself a coffee from the back of the room.
He still has my underwear, and the tops of my legs are wet with the evidence of my own satisfaction. My breath is uneven.
God, this is going to be the longest hour of my life.
* * *
‘Gem.’
Is that what everyone in the universe except me calls her? Her back has been towards me for at least three minutes and I’ve gone through the greetings and I’m waiting for her to turn around. I want to see her full red lips, her messy hair, her passion-soaked expression, and I want to know that I did that to her.
She angles her head sideways to greet Barry Moore, one of the transition team consultants on the Tokyo deal. ‘Hey...’
Her smile is cool, her expression calm. The only sign that she was ravaged by me only minutes ago is that her nipples are straining against the fabric of her dress—something that might be explained by the ice-cold air conditioning.
‘You did a great job on the summaries—thanks.’
‘You got my email, then?’ Her voice is calm and clipped, as always, those haughty, aristocratic syllables like plums in her mouth.
‘On the flight over.’ He nods, his eyes briefly dipping to her breasts so that I am flooded by an urgent need to bodily shove him aside.
‘Jack? Shall we begin?’
I draw my attention away reluctantly, turning to the manager of the takeover team. ‘Yes. Take a seat.’
I nod towards the table and find myself drawn to one seat in particular. I press my hands to the tabletop, right where Gemma’s legs were spread, and my eyes seek hers.
She meets them with fierce resentment.
She’s pissed at me.
I just made her come in what I gather to have been a spectacular fashion and she’s angry with me. Mind you, I guess I didn’t really choose my time or place well. Leaving her breathless and wet right as some of the company’s most senior staff filed into the room might explain her anger with me.
I sit down, my eyes not shying away from hers.
She chooses a seat at the other end of the table, on the opposite side. I cross an ankle over my knee and something catches my eye. Something dark and small. With a smile, I reach down and lift her underpants off the floor, palming them thoughtfully.
Her eyes are watching me and I see embarrassment creep along her cheeks, creating a hole in the armour of her professional composure. Her beautiful neck moves visibly as she swallows. And while I have her attention I lift my finger to my mouth and run it over my lower lip thoughtfully, tasting her openly.
Even from this distance I hear her sharp intake of breath and I smile.
