A Will and a Way (23 page)

He was so strung out between curiosity and craving it took him a few seconds to translate the question. “Oh. Yeah, I ate.”

“Damn.”

She broke the word into two sexy syllables as she ran greedy, grabby hands down and up his arms. He flexed. Of course he flexed. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t have. And, damn it, he was about to flex her into next week if she didn’t stop crawling all over him. Gathering a few weak strands of resolve and the one scruple he owned, he planted his hands on her hips and prepared to set her away from him.

“I was kind of hopin’ you might be hungry enough to put me up on this counter and have your way with me again,” she said in a not-so-hushed rush.

His muscles bunched for real this time. The tips of his fingers bit into the soft curve of her ass. He turned and was about to lift her up so he might grant her fondest wish when he heard Josie’s husky chuckle. Raising his hands like a man faced with a SWAT team, he held them high as he stepped out of Betty’s reach.

He shot a nervous glance at the door to the outer office. “I don’t want you hanging out with Josie anymore.” His chest heaved and his jeans were too tight for comfort, but he didn’t bother trying to mask his reaction to her. “She’s a bad influence on you.”

Irritation flared in Betty’s eyes. “How do you know I wasn’t a bad influence on her?”

Just then, Josie tripped past him, her cheeks rosy and her skirt hitched up in the back. Her tinkling laugh bounced off the walls as she enveloped Betty in a hug so exuberant he might think they were the ones with a lifetime of friendship behind them.

“I have to go. Someone’s getting a spanking.” She shot a sassy smile at Greg who hovered in the doorway. Turning back to Betty, she dropped a wink broad enough to catch a blind man’s eye. “I hope it’s me.”

“It’s you.” Greg grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her away. “Now I’m thinking it’s a damn good thing we didn’t hire you,” he grumbled, looking as fierce as a man sporting a reddening hickey on his neck could. “Too disruptive.”

“I know,” she cooed. She waved over her shoulder and trotted to keep her feet under her. “Bye, kids. Don’t work too hard!”

Seconds later, the front door closed, cutting off the last of Greg’s grumbles and Josie’s giggles. Will stared at Betty. She stared at him. The tip of her tongue slipped out to wet her bottom lip. He could drag her out of there, haul her home, and take her to bed. Or…he could have a late lunch. He almost laughed at himself for taking the time to weigh the options.

“Do not move,” he said, raising one finger to emphasize the order.

In less than thirty seconds, he had the bolt thrown on the front door and skidded to a stop in the kitchen. Unfortunately, half a minute was plenty of time for Betty to have second thoughts. He found her sagged against the counter, one hand pressed to a petal-pink cheek, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor halfway between ‘Oh crap’ and ‘What the hell am I doing?’

Shit, he hated it when women went there.

Drawing a steadying breath, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Before you say anything, just let me say for the record that I am not the least bit full and could definitely eat again.”

Her head jerked up and her hand fell away. He was gratified to see her stand up straight as a dancer. The woman had backbone. It was one of the things he liked most about her. He also liked kissing his way down that backbone to her sweet little ass, but the opportunity to do that anytime soon had probably just slipped away.

“Do you think he’ll want to fire me?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Greg?”

She winced and shrugged. “Well, I’d hope you wouldn’t, but maybe I only get long lunches when you’re involved.”

A few minutes earlier she was asking him to dine on her, now she was implying he’d pull some kind of power trip and it ticked him off. “You can take a long lunch whenever you damn well please.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Annoyed at being forced to defend his friend as well, he snapped. “He’s a dick, not an ass.”

This time she pressed both palms to her cheeks. “I can’t believe…I didn’t mean to…I’m so embarrassed.”

“Josie tends to have that effect on people.”

Her chin came up, and this time she rolled her shoulders back as she lowered her hands. “She’s wonderful.”

“Absolutely.”

He gave his agreement without missing a beat, but she didn’t seem mollified.

“She’s fun and free and completely…outrageous.”

“All that and more.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he cocked his head. “It’s great to see her coming back to life again. Things were rough for her.”

“She’s incredible.”

Will nodded. “I’ve been a fan for years.”

Her lips pursed as though he’d asked her to suck a lemon. He bit back a smile as he watched her struggle between jealousy and the need to save face.

“Yes, I know,” she said.

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to Greg.” He crossed over to her but stopped when they were toe to toe. “And straight as he might seem, Greg’s exactly what she needed.” Unable to resist touching Betty in some way, he tucked a hank of golden hair behind her ear. “He lights her up like a flare.”

Her bows knit. “A flare?”

The frown was too much to bear. He had to make it go away, so he pressed his lips to the tiny crease. “Too hot for me to handle.” When she scoffed, he chuckled and pulled her into his arms. Hugging her tight, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “Besides, haven’t you been listening to what everyone’s been telling you? I’m enough trouble on my own.”

“Are you, now?”

He reared back, narrowing his eyes to slits. “Are you thinking I’m a soft touch?”

She stared up at him so filled with sweetness and light he wanted to take a big, ravenous bite out of her.

“Who, me?”

“I can promise you, there’s not one inch of me that’s soft right now.”

She gave her head a slow shake, but a knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his fly. “I’m wrong?”

Betty raised her shoulder and let it fall, the movement causing her to slide her warm palm over his overeager dick. “I can name six parts of you that are delightfully soft.” She shifted her weight to her toes, giving him another incidental, but in no way accidental, stroke as she pressed her lips behind his ear lobe. “This spot,” she whispered. “It’s one of my favorites.”

He held very still, letting her have her way. At least, for the moment. “Is it?”

“The skin under your biceps, and that yummy line that runs along your hipbone.”

She trailed her hand over his jeans again, and he could only think one thing: Home. His place. Hers. It didn’t matter. He only needed to get her naked. Home was wherever naked Betty was. “Let’s go home.”

“I can’t. Too much work to do. My boss is a slave driver.” She licked him right at the notch at base of his throat. The exact same spot he liked to lick her. “This is another.”

“I’m about to drive into you right here, right now.”

“There’s a place just inside your thigh. The skin is so smooth and you smell so damn good,” she whispered. “There’s a muscle or tendon or something there.” She glanced up and waited oh-so-patiently until he managed to focus. “I want to bite it.”

“That’s it.” Releasing her abruptly, he staggered back, holding up his hands as if to ward her off. “Definitely no more lunches with Josie.”

She smiled, fully aware of the affect she was having on him. “Don’t you want to know what the sixth one is?”

“No.”

Lie. Liar. He was the biggest liar on Earth. He wanted to know what it was more than he wanted his next hit of oxygen, but a part of him was afraid. To think he’d felt bad for Greg. Okay, maybe he hadn’t been too sympathetic about how helpless his friend became when he fell for Josie, but now, in this moment, he completely understood. This soft-spoken, pink and white bunny of a belle had him tied up in knots Houdini couldn’t unravel.

And she knew it.

The gleam in those lake-blue eyes told him as much. Her gaze never left his. She didn’t wobble one bit as she reclaimed the distance he’d tried to put between them. He would swear on the biggest stack of bibles Sister Laurent could produce that the slide of her tongue over her lips played out in high definition slo-mo.

The soles of his feet melted into the floor. She reached out, stretching only one finger toward him. Her fingernail scraped the rough cotton weave of the denim covering his cock, outlining the very tip of him with pinpoint precision. His eyelids grew too heavy to hold open. He forgot how to breathe altogether. Every ounce of self-control he possessed was dialed in to that spot. A soft puff of breath tickled his lips. That should have been a hint that he needed to brace for impact.

“I love how you feel against my tongue,” she whispered. “The skin is so soft, but you’re so big and hard and hot.”

Her drawl did unbearably obscene things to words that would barely have been naughty coming from any woman but prim, proper Ms. Betty Asher. He needed to have her. Own her. Be the absolute and unquestioned boss of this prissy, perverted little plantation flower. Pulling her hand to his mouth once more, he planted a wet kiss to the center of her palm, relishing the way her fingers curved to fit the shape of his cheek. He curled those dangerous digits into a loose fist before letting her go and turning on his heel.

“My office. Now.”

“Your office?” she asked with a puzzled shake of her head.

It was all he could do to resist the urge to adjust himself as he crossed the room. He didn’t dare look back to see if she followed. It didn’t matter much if she did at this point. After two days without her and twenty minutes of crazy intense foreplay, he would just slam the door and jack off into his shirt. Either way, he was going to blow in about two minutes. God, he hoped she followed. He’d hate to have to explain to Greg why he had to fire her for insubordination.

Dropping into his rickety old chair, he stretched one leg out and yanked the end of his belt free from the loops. The buckle clinked. He let out a whoosh of breath as he opened the top button on his jeans. A hum of electricity buzzed in his blood. The rest of the buttons on his fly popped. He caught her sharp intake of breath and looked up. Again, that pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, but this time he knew their inviting wetness was a promise, not a tease.

“You wanted to see me,” she trailed her fingertips along the neckline of her blouse before adding a husky, “Mr. Tarrant?”

“Come in, Ms. Asher.” He nodded, then waved a hand toward the floor at his feet. “I want you to take some dictation.”

* * * *

Good gracious, the man was a woman’s wet dream. Did women have wet dreams? Yes, Betty decided, remembering how she’d awakened restless and aching the past few mornings. Will was an addiction, plain and simple. Like heroin.

No, not heroin.

Something bad, but not
that
bad. He was dangerous, yes, but not as dark as she thought at first glance. She wasn’t kidding about the soft spots. She saw them when he talked about Greg and Josie. Explored them with her mouth and hands each time they lay tangled in one another’s arms. Felt the tender sweetness that softened the edges of even his hungriest kisses.

Her gaze fixed on those heavy-lidded pirate’s eyes, she carefully placed one foot in front of the other as she crossed the room, adding a little extra sway to her steps. She smiled when she caught the quick dip of his Adam’s apple. Gathering the fabric of her skirt, she raised the hem until it brushed over her knees, then sank down onto them.

She slid her hands up the long, taut muscles of his thighs. His jeans gaped. His cock bulged and twitched beneath the thin fabric of his black boxer briefs, and his abs tensed when she hooked her fingers in the waistband.

“Damn, you’re beautiful.” His voice was rough with desire.

It rasped the aching need inside her and turned her fingers clumsy. She tugged at them, urging him to lift his hips.

“Shall we begin…sir?” She chanced a glance from under her lashes and found his jaw locked and his fingers wrapped tight around the armrests.

He planted his feet on either side of her and pressed up. “Yes.”

Betty nudged the dangling belt buckle aside and pushed his jeans and briefs all the way down to the tops of his spattered and dusty work boots. She ran the pad of her thumb over the crown of his cock, collecting the precious drop of moisture that gathered there and smearing it over the taut flesh until it shone.

“This,” she whispered. “The sweetest soft spot of all. So smooth. Like silk.” She leaned forward just enough to let her hair brush over him. Her mouth ran dry when his muscles bunched and the object of her desire twitched in her hand. She slid her hand down the length of him then squeezed, coaxing one of those deliciously guttural groans from deep inside him. “Like steel.” Her smile widened as he thrust into her grip. “Isn’t that what they say in the books?”

“Do they?”

“They do. And doesn’t feel much like an exaggeration at the moment.”

“Don’t use the word exaggeration when you’re holding my dick in your hand.”

“No need to,” she cooed. “You live up to your legend.”

“Legend,” he growled, that scarred lip turning up in a sneer. “I prefer reality.”

She licked her lips, eager for the taste of him on her tongue, but savoring the anticipation. She would take whatever he wanted to give, but she wanted to hear him ask for it first. “What can I do for you, Mr. Tarrant?”

He released his death grip on the chair to run his hand over her hair, gently urging her down. “Your mouth.”

Keeping her eyes locked on his face, she lowered her mouth to the head of his cock and placed a chaste little kiss there. “Like that?”

He rolled his wrist, wrapping her hair around his fist and pulling just hard enough to force her head up again. “No, Ms. Asher. Not like that.”

She stared at him, entranced by the stark desire etching deep lines around that beautiful mouth. “I’m afraid I may need more direction in order to perform my…duties to your satisfaction. Sir,” she added on a breathy exhale.