Page 28 of Legal Seduction
His hands gripped her shoulders as his body tensed, and a deep growl sounded as if it was torn from his throat. Then he came, hot and sweet on her tongue.
She licked him from her lips and smiled up at him.
He stared down at her, his eyes still dark with the dilated pupils swallowing the blue like she’d swallowed him. He shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
“How could I work so closely with you for two years and know nothing about you?”
“You didn’t ask,” she reminded him.
“Would it have mattered if I did? You’re not inclined to answer the other questions I ask you.” He tucked himself back into his briefs and pulled up his zipper and shook his head again as if he was unable to believe what had just happened.
And she was unable to believe that it hadn’t happened before. Women probably gave him blow jobs in back seats all the time. He was that damn gorgeous...
And irresistible.
She licked her lips again, loving the taste of him. Loving that she gave him that pleasure. And maybe that was what had taken him aback, that mousy Bette Monroe would do something like that. That was what kids had called her in school. She’d even been dubbed that in fashion college because she hadn’t had the piercings and tattoos, or worn the wild clothes her classmates had.
But what she designed wasn’t meant to be seen by everyone. Just the women who wore them and the men those women cared about enough to show.
She’d showed Simon more of her designs than she had other men. But it wasn’t because she cared about him. That wasn’t why.
“You remind me of theMona Lisa,” he said.
She laughed. “What?”
“It’s obvious in that painting that she has some salacious secret,” he said. “And it’s obvious that you do, too.”
“I guess we share a salacious secret now,” she murmured as she stroked her finger across her bottom lip.
He groaned. “Damn it...”
“What?”
“You just made me hard again,” he admitted. “And I wouldn’t have thought that would be possible yet...”
Neither had she. But she was kind of glad that he was—because her pulse was pounding in her core, demanding release from the tension pleasing him had given her. She wanted to feel what he had, wanted the pleasure they gave each other.
And now he was the one sliding off his seat onto his knees on the floor between them. But even on his knees, he was taller than she was sitting. So he had to lean down to kiss her. His mouth sliding back and forth across hers. He groaned, probably because he could taste himself on her lips.
She touched him, moving her hand from his chest to his groin. And sure enough his cock was pressing against his fly again—long and hard and hot. She smiled against his lips.
“Siren,” he murmured.
She lifted her head and listened. “I don’t hear anything.”
His mouth curved into a slight grin. “You,” he said. “You’re the siren.”
“The mermaid who lures sailors to their deaths?” she asked. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
He laughed. “Oh, it’s not a good thing,” he agreed. “At least not for me.” His fingers shook a little as he moved them to the buttons of her cardigan. “Ever since you walked out of your bedroom all dressed up like this, I’ve been dying to know what you’re wearing underneath.”
But he took his time with each button, undoing them slowly as if he was building up the anticipation. That was probably how he unwrapped presents, as well—slowly to savor them.
But as a runaway growing up on the streets, had he had presents? How had he survived let alone thrived like he had?
She didn’t know him as well as she’d thought she had. There was much more to him than his charm and his ruthlessness—because now she understood why he had both.
