Page 30 of Designed for Disaster

“The demo…Already?”

The elevator door rolled open, and we climbed in, riding it down. Trent stood next to me, so close—almost too close. I could see the trace of stubble on his jaw and smell the spearmint of his soap. My heart stuttered in my chest. Why was he so close?

“The staff have been working really hard on it,” Trent said, looking away to watch the numbers on the display board count down. “I think you’ll be impressed.”

I frowned up at him. That didn’t make any sense. How were they working hard on the showroom demo when the designs for the new line weren’t even approved? As far as I was aware, none of the pieces had gone to production yet. I traced the chiseled line of his jaw with my gaze, curling my hands by my sides. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and run my hand along that dark stubble, and not just to make him turn his head back in my direction so I could ask him what the hell he was talking about.

The elevator doors opened, and Trent walked out—no, sauntered out—crossing a floor I didn’t recognize. Where had this been on the tour?

“Where are we?”

“Just this way,” he said, leading me through a door. It opened to the most luxurious lounge demo I’d ever seen. In the middle of the floor was a raised pedestal bathed in soft yellow light, and right there, front and center, was the chaise sofa I’d just been drawing in my office. I turned and gaped at Trent. How was this possible?

I hadn’t even scanned the drawing into the computer or sent the file to the CAD designers.

“What do you think?” Trent asked, giving me a sexy smirk, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I climbed up on the pedestal where the chaise slowly rotated. I ran my hand over the gleaming dark wood—polished to perfection—and the soft, velvet cushion. I didn’t usually focus much on fabrics, seeing as custom pieces like this would require the buyer to choose what they wanted, but the deep red was alluring. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

I turned, eyeing him under the soft light. He’d stepped up on the pedestal, the room narrowing to the two of us slowly turning there. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, throwing it down on the chaise. When I opened my mouth to ask him how he’d gotten the chaise made so quickly, he reached for his tie, and my stomach flipped as he popped open the top button of his dress shirt.

“What are you…” I glanced around. Anyone could walk in at any time. My god, were we on a security camera? “What the hell are you doing?”

He smirked, popping another button and another. I just stared, watching perfectly delectable, well-muscled skin appear. A lineof dark hair disappeared beneath his slacks. I wanted to chase it like an arrow.

“I’m going to fuck you on this chaise,” he said, the words low and gravelly. Goose bumps exploded across every inch of my body. “We’ll call it quality control testing.”

I licked my lips. Holy fucking shit. He couldn’t be serious.Icouldn't seriously be considering saying yes. What I needed to do was walk away. Right now! But I…I needed…he had very nice abs.

Trent shrugged out of his shirt, his broad chest and muscled shoulders on exquisite display, spotlit by the carefully planned lighting arrangement. Squash sure kept this man in shape. Maybe I needed to start playing squash. Maybe I needed to start watching Trent play squash. Naked. Naked squash.

What on earth was I thinking about?

Trent waltzed toward me, unhurried, with the quiet stealth of a big cat. He was delectable and dark and dangerous. Like a panther.

Yep.

He was a sleek, muscular panther filled with explosive power, and I sure hoped he used it to pounce on me.

God, girl! Get a grip.I backed away from him, inch by inch, until my knees hit the chaise, and I collapsed on top of it.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment we met,” Trent said as he leaned over me, getting his knee between my legs.

My words left me, replaced by a breathy little moan.

He smiled, a wicked finger running along my jaw, down my neck, and disappearing between the valley of my breasts. When the hell had I taken my shirt off?

“I’ve wanted you exactly like this. Splayed out for me on a piece of Saunders Furniture.”

My chest heaved. This couldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t let this happen, but hell if I wanted it to stop. Trent leaned down, his lips like the promise of fire after the cold, and I surged up, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kissed him like he was my one and only lifeline, moaning as he sucked at my tongue.

His hands traveled down my body, his hips grinding against me.

A sudden desperation washed through me, aching between my legs, and I almost bucked him off the chaise as his hand slipped beneath the waistline of my pants. Yes,yes! God, I wanted him to touch me there.

I wanted him to?—

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