Chapter 11
Richard
“Started?” The word shuddered out of her.
She moistened her lips and the glossy sheen invited him closer.
From the moment she had come out onto the deck she’d been delighting him—first with her teasing play running her fingers up his arm and then with her blatant invitation about the need for calories.
Dinner, though, dinner had been an utter pleasure.
She’d dug into the food and ate it with a gusto that he could appreciate, not an ounce of trying to eat only the salad and ignoring the rest.
He’d never told anyone before about getting lost that day.
They all thought it demonstrated just how clever he was and it had given him insight into how to elude personal security.
For a brief moment, he’d almost added how he slipped them during his recovery and again earlier that morning, but with more recent events he didn’t want to worry her.
Even Armand had tried to get him to reveal exactly how he’d done it.
But Kate appreciated the irony and told him the most fascinating story in return. They had time for other tales later.
“Yes, started.” Standing, he closed the distance between them and ran a finger down the front of her tank top, pausing in the valley between her very much bra-free breasts. He’d thought so, but damned if he didn’t like finding out. “See, I’d like to take this off and play with your breasts.”
“O-okay.” She brought her hands up to spread against his chest. Her strength, he never questioned, nor her competence. She’d demonstrated her fierce spirit over and over again and yet when he’d realized that bullet hurt her it reminded him that strong didn’t mean invincible.
“This isn’t business,” he told her bluntly.
“This isn’t about a contract or a work ethic or anyone but you and me.
” He had no qualms about crossing the dividing line between business and pleasure—hell, he’d already crossed it.
He wanted Kate, but having been on the receiving end of that clever mind of hers, he knew damn good and well he wanted her mind on the exact same page as her body.
“Okay,” she repeated the two-syllable word with a shudder.
Curling his finger around the fabric, he stroked the soft skin from the curve of her shoulder blade to the top of one breast. “Is it okay for me to use my fingers to touch?”
“Yes.” She wavered a little on her feet and backed up a step.
“What about my lips?” He followed her.
Pink flushed her cheeks and her eyes grew bright. “Y-yes. You’re killing me here.”
“Oh, if my fingers and my lips cause you problems, do you mind teeth?” He skimmed his touch down to trace the outer curve of one breast. The nipple puckered beautifully and poked at the fabric.
His body hummed with the need to caress, to shape, to pinch, to twist, and play with her until those soft hitching breaths were all she was capable of.
“What if I want to scrape my teeth lightly over that very pointed nipple and suck on it?”
Her fingers curled into his shirt and she tugged him forward, the fire in her eyes incandescent. “Are you going to talk me into an orgasm, Richard? Or actually put your hands where your mouth seems intent on going?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he teased just to watch her eyes widen and her temper flare. Gotcha. Snaking an arm around her waist, he bent and took her legs out from under her and swung her up into his arms. “Hold on and, if your shoulder twinges, you tell me.”
It wasn’t a request.
Her lashes swept down and when they came up again, mischief grew in her smile. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The reminder of his boast about seducing his secretary amused him.
Pinching her ass in retaliation, he laughed. “Armand should never have told you that story.”
“I’m glad he did.” She took advantage of their position to tug down the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips to the flesh she revealed. Flames kindled in his blood and he picked up the pace, saving any words for the top of the stairs.
“Why are you so glad he did?” It took him a minute to remember which room was his. Hell, they all were and they all had beds, but he wanted her in his room and in his bed.
“He loves you, very much.” Her answer surprised him and he paused just inside the door of his room to meet her gaze.
“It’s a rare thing to see men being openly affectionate about their relationships, but you mean the world to him.
I think it was his way of telling me that I shouldn’t take advantage of you. ”
Grappling with that idea for a moment, he carried her to the bed and sat down, cradling her in his lap. Nuzzling her forehead and then her cheek, he murmured, “I think it was his way of messing with me.”
“Has it occurred to you that he managed to do both in one simple statement?” She traced the line of his jaw, pressing a row of sweet, butterfly kisses all the way to his throat and he lifted his head, letting her play.
The feel of her bottom pressed against his lap and the weight of her on his chest was an erotic sensation he wouldn’t trade for anything.
“With him, anything is possible,” he mused. Armand had surprised him over the years with his choices and the lengths to which he would go. “However, if you have any other comments about him, let’s get those out of the way right now.”
She glanced at him, brows raised in lazy question.
“No more questions? Comments? General statements where Armand is concerned?”
“It’s so tempting to tease you right now, considering how incredibly tight my body is wound and how much I want to strip off your clothes and feel you thrusting inside of me…”
Galvanized by her words, he leaned away enough to lift the hem of her shirt and she helped him pull it off.
She tapped his own impatiently, but he ignored the request, his attention locked on the beautiful curves he’d just revealed.
While not petite, her breasts more than filled his hands and were capped by the dark, puckered rosettes.
“Dark cherries in sweet cream,” he whispered and swung her down onto the bed easily—careful, always careful, of her shoulder.
The hungry, aching need inside him enthusiastic in its demand.
It didn’t want to play anymore, it wanted to touch and to taste and to savor.
A dozen different erotic images danced through his mind and he cupped one breast and gave in to the urge to stroke his thumb across the peak.
Capturing her gasp in a hot, languorous kiss, the rational part of his brain shut off and he abandoned her mouth with a nip to her lower lip then dipped to pull one plumped nipple between his teeth.
Her fingers fisted in his hair and she arched her back. A hiss dragged his head up and he glared at her. “You have to lay still, no pain for you.”
“No.” Defiance roiled in the word. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her hard and slid a hand down to undo her shorts.
Nibbling a path back to her abandoned breast, he closed his teeth around the nipple and slid his hand into her shorts.
Her gasps turned to a whimper and he divided his attention between licking and sucking each breast and teasing his fingers into the damp folds between her thighs.
Nothing with Kate was halfway. She thrust her hands into his hair, pulling him impatiently closer.
Her thighs spread and her hips arched to each teasing caress of his finger.
He pressed the heel of his hand against her clit and the muscles of her neck went taut.
Lifting his head from her breast, he watched the orgasm roll over her as he teased it from her.
It was the most erotic sight he’d ever seen.
Slipping his hand free, he rose enough to tug her shorts down and the scrap of lace panties.
Holding them up, he stared at her with a grin.
His very put-together, professional Kate liked lace.
He would drown her in it. Sprawled against the dark coverlet, she gave him a smile filled with lazy pleasure. “You have too many clothes on.”
“I’m working on that.” But he wasn’t. He wanted to drink in his fill of her beauty. Of her supple, taut curves, the shape of her hip and the sweet, sweep of her legs. So much strength housed in one extremely feminine body.
Lifting her right leg, he pressed a kiss against her calf then again to the inside of her knee then again to her thigh.
She tracked his progress, curled her leg, rubbing her foot against his back.
Slipping his hands under bottom, he teased the soft skin with his thumbs and dipped down to lick her once from her slick entrance to her clit.
“You didn’t let me mention this part downstairs.
” He had no idea where he found the words, but he wanted to tell her everything.
He wanted her as engaged in every part of his discovery of her.
“Oh?” Strain added a higher note to her voice and he smiled, nuzzling a kiss against her pussy and then spearing his tongue inside. Her hips bucked and he teased her with a series of bites and licks.
But he saved the best for last, locking his mouth around the tight bundle of nerves and drawing on it, “hmmm.” And she came again, in a wild explosion. Her thighs clamped against his shoulders and he held on, drawing out the pleasure until she shook from it.
Lifting his head, he gazed at her until she managed to open her eyes and look at him again. “Oh yes, I want to do that a few more times, but someone was very ready.” He dragged a finger through the slick folds, the damp scent of her arousal like a drug he could very easily become addicted to.
“I blame you, utterly.” Even drunk on passion she still managed to sass him.
“What can I do to make it up to you?” He eased a finger inside her and her eyes darkened, but she never looked away.
“Hmm. Lukewarm.” But the perspiration dotting her skin and the ragged quality of her breathing made that a lie.