All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) (11 page)

“They’re fine.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a diva, you know.”

His oh-so-kissable lips quirked at her statement. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Juice, but during our first meeting you were ready to tell me to fu—kiss off if I didn’t agree to let you work in your own workshop.”

She smiled when Quinn quickly changed his word choice, obviously respecting her “no swearing.” She didn’t really mind if other people used bad language; she just wasn’t going to.

Her mother had been unable to say a single sentence without dropping the F-bomb, and Amelia had vowed she would do everything she could to
not
be like her mother. That was also the reason why she didn’t drink.

“You’re a smart guy. You know I can work anywhere. I just thought I’d do my best work in familiar surroundings.”

Liar. You were afraid this would happen.

He snapped his fingers. “Finally, you’ve found something nice to say about me.”

Although she laughed at his quip, she was disturbed to realize she could find plenty of nice things to say about him. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him. And liking him was dangerous.

Spending time with Quinn was like walking along the
edge of a ravine. Sooner or later, she’d stumble and fall, crossing the line from colleagues to . . . something more.

And that would be a disaster. A catastrophe of gigantic proportions.

She didn’t want people to think she slept her way to success, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The secret deal with Teagan made it impossible for them to be anything more than colleagues, not even friends.

Friends didn’t go behind each other’s back . . . except for Brutus, of course. He stabbed Julius Caesar in the back—literally. She didn’t want to be a Brutus, so she had to keep her distance from Quinn.

He gestured toward their empty plates and the pizza pan. They were bare except for a couple of crumbs.

“I’m kind of disappointed there aren’t any leftovers. Now I have to find something else for breakfast.”

She chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. Was he serious? Only college kids ate pizza for breakfast. Adults ate yogurt and egg-white omelets.

“Unbelievable. You eat pizza for breakfast, and you still look like that.”

She clamped her mouth shut before she blurted out a truly regrettable comment about what her butt would look like if she made such poor dietary choices. He gazed at her intently.

“Look like what?”

Tall, dark, and handsome, that’s what
. And he totally knew it.

Their interactions had given her plenty of evidence his self-esteem was healthy. In fact, it was so healthy it probably participated in marathons.

“Please,” she scoffed. “You don’t need me to stroke your ego.”

At the word “stroke,” his gaze heated and fell to her lips. When he brought his eyes back to hers, the dark blue irises were nearly obliterated by the pupils. The proof of his arousal made her lightheaded.

“You’re right,” he said huskily. “My ego’s just fine.”

Amelia tapped her ballet flat against the polished concrete floor as she waited for Quinn in Riley Plaza’s second-floor reception area. After they’d finished dinner at the pizzeria and walked back to the high-rise, he left her at the elevator bank while he detoured to the parking garage to get her fruits and veggies.

She wondered if he had bought any leafy greens like spinach and kale. If not, she might have to make a trip to the store. She would probably need to pick up some coconut water, too, since it was unlikely he’d thought to buy that. If he had, she’d have no choice but to rip off his clothes and have her way with him.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to reveal Quinn. His muscular arms held two large canvas bags, and another bag sat on the floor near his feet. All three overflowed with a variety of produce, filling the elevator with the tangy scent of citrus and the sweet aroma of mangoes, peaches, and strawberries.

He beckoned her into the elevator with a tilt of his head. “Get in,” he ordered tersely.

She wondered what had happened to make him so cranky. He’d seemed fine at the restaurant.

Once they arrived at the penthouse, she placed her canvas bag on the floor to key in the code. He must have made a serious dent in the produce section, and her bag was so heavy she had to carry it with both arms.

She held the door open for Quinn, and as he passed through it, his forearm brushed against her breasts. She sucked in a breath at the brief contact, and he turned his head sharply toward her. She was sure her desire was obvious on her face, and she averted it, hoping he wouldn’t see how much she wanted him.

After returning to the hall to grab her bag of produce, she had just stepped inside when she ran into him. Without a word, he took the bag from her and headed back to the kitchen to deposit it on the island.

She followed behind him, appreciating the way his Rileys hugged his rear. She was a little overheated, so she shrugged out of her purple hoodie and hung it on the back of one of the tall, wooden chairs situated near the bar.

“Thank you so much for the juicer, Quinn. And for the produce. And for dinner.”

He didn’t respond to her words of gratitude. Instead, he unpacked the bags, disgorging a kaleidoscope of colorful produce onto the granite island. The bright hues of bananas, lemons, oranges, and carrots contrasted sharply with the intense red of strawberries and apples, the deep indigo of blueberries, and the dark green of spinach.

He remembered to buy leafy vegetables!

She moved to the island to help him unload the rest of the goodies, and he stiffened slightly when her arm brushed against his. She looked up, and they stared at each other, barely breathing, until he leaned down. His nose brushed the top of her hair, and he took a deep breath.

“You smell good. What is it?”

The vibrations of his deep voice near her ear made her whole body break out in goose bumps. She was so affected by his nearness she had a hard time pulling in a deep breath.

“Almond oil,” she gasped. “I use it on my hair to keep it from getting frizzy.”

Shifting closer, he bracketed her body against the island with his arms, enveloping her in his heat. He nuzzled his
nose behind her ear before flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin of her nape where several curls nestled. She shivered at the rough wetness, imagining it on other parts of her body.

She sensed his hands near her head moments before he pulled the chopsticks out of her hair. He made a low noise in his throat as it fell in a tangle of curls down her back—a deep growl that made her nipples harden and her knees tremble.

“
Damn,
” he said hoarsely.

Swiftly, he turned her in his arms. Grabbing her around the waist, he hoisted her easily onto the island, making all her lovely fruit and vegetables roll to the floor.

Ignoring the produce carnage, he immediately wrapped his big hands around her rear and pulled her roughly toward him until his erection was wedged between her legs. He was long and hard, and she wanted to press against him.

Cupping her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes. “I tried,” he said mysteriously.

She opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about, but before she could get the words out, he slid his hands into her hair and brought his lips to hers.

•   •   •

He’d tried to keep his hands off Amelia. In fact, Quinn had silently lectured himself the entire walk back to Riley Plaza.

She works for you. Do you really want to be one of those bosses?
But then his wicked alter ego had whispered in his ear,
She’s not officially your employee. She’s a business partner. As a business partner, you can touch her as much as you want and anywhere you want.

Since a very specific part of him had agreed with his clever alter ego, he’d switched gears.
She’s a key part of Riley O’Brien’s future success. You don’t want to endanger the company.
That had done the trick because he would never do anything to jeopardize the legacy his ancestors had entrusted him with.

He’d been ready to say good-bye to Amelia and her produce, no harm done. But then she had stepped on the escalator in front of him, just like the day they’d met. Only this time, it
had been so much worse because her stretchy black pants clung to her ass so tightly he could see the cleft between her sweet cheeks.

He’d had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out and running his fingers along that enticing crevice, from top to bottom. He was desperate to trace it . . . desperate to cup her mound and feel her heat.

The short trip to his car had allowed him to gain a small measure of control, but then she had brushed up against him in the kitchen. He’d gotten a waft of her scent, so deliciously sweet that his lust made his vision hazy. When he had realized she wanted him, too, his control crumbled like a cookie in the hands of a toddler.

Now that he had his mouth on hers, he was torn between devouring and savoring. He ran his tongue against her bottom lip before sucking gently. She gasped, and he darted his tongue into her mouth. The taste of her was better than he’d imagined, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

He slanted his head to delve deeper into her sweetness, holding her captive by weaving his hands into her fragrant hair and tilting her head back. When her tongue met his, he sucked on it lightly. It felt so good he increased the suction, and she moaned loudly.

Lust slammed through him as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Pushing up his shirt, she grasped his back just above the waistband of his Rileys. Her fingernails dug into his skin, the dual pain and pleasure of her touch sending a tingle up and down his spine.

Bright lights exploded behind his eyelids, and blood rushed through his veins, heading straight to his cock. He was sure he’d never been so hard, the buttons on his fly pressing painfully into his length.

He fed her several deep, wet kisses before pulling back and trailing his lips down her neck. He gently bit the tendon where her neck and shoulder met. She whimpered, and he soothed the small bite with his tongue.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you,” he breathed against her skin.

He leaned back to look at her, his balls tightening at the
sight of her obvious arousal. Her eyes were shut, her cheeks were flushed cherry red, and she was breathing in short pants.

The low neckline of her purple T-shirt contrasted beautifully with her opalescent skin, and the tops of her breasts were dusted with those delicious brown-sugar freckles. He could think of nothing else but putting his mouth on them to see if they were as sweet as they looked.

He dropped openmouthed kisses on her skin, licking and sucking in some places, before trailing his tongue down the valley between her breasts. He’d fantasized about getting his face in her cleavage since that first day in his office.

Grabbing the hem of her T-shirt, he pulled it over her head. He was so glad the lights were on because he wanted to see her. His breath caught in his throat at the first view of her firm breasts. They were encased in aqua-colored lace that played peekaboo with her nipples. He cupped the plump mounds through the stretchy lace before reaching between them to unclasp her bra.

Her breasts spilled out of the lace cups, the nipples puckered with arousal. They were pale pink, and he knew they’d taste just like cotton candy.

Dropping his head, he pulled one into his mouth while his hand played lightly with the other. As he rolled her pebbled nipple over and under his tongue, he realized he’d been right: they were sweet and feather-soft.

“Your nipples taste like sugar,” he rasped.

She moaned again, palming his head and pressing his face against her breasts. Releasing her nipple with a soft pop, he brought his attention to the other one, sucking it into his mouth. After several delicious swirls of his tongue, he bit down gently on the tip, making her jerk and pull him even tighter against her.

He burned to be inside her, and as he moved his hand toward the waistband of her pants, he heard a loud thud. Looking down, he saw the coconut water he’d bought lying on its side on the floor, fluid leaking from a puncture on the side of the carton.

“
Shit
.”

His curse opened Amelia’s eyes, and she turned her head
to see what he looked at. Glimpsing the mess on the floor, she whispered, “Coconut water, too?”

Since his brain was still in nuclear meltdown, and his cock was hard enough to drill through the Earth’s crust, it took him a moment to answer. “Yeah. The woman at Williams-Sonoma told me that most juice recipes call for it, so I put it on my list. . . .”

Amelia shifted on the hard countertop, and he forgot what he was saying. Her bra still hung off her shoulders, her breasts displayed delightfully to his gaze. When she saw where his eyes had settled, she blushed, and he watched in fascination as color swept across her chest, shading the pale curves of her breasts a dusky pink.

Grasping the edges of her bra, she deftly clasped it before lowering her gaze to the floor. He assumed she was embarrassed, so he focused on cleaning up the spilled coconut water. As he knelt down to pick up the carton, he heard something that made his heart skip a beat.

“I think you bruised them.”

He lurched to his feet.
Jesus, was I too rough with her?

Moving in front of her, he gently grasped her shoulders so he could peer down into her face. “I hurt you?”

“What?”

“You just said they were bruised. How badly did I hurt you?”

The thought of injuring Amelia, even accidently, made him sick to his stomach, and nausea rose in the back of his throat. She stared at him blankly before bursting into nearly hysterical laughter.

“Oh, Quinn,” she choked out between her giggles. “I was talking about the fruit that fell to the floor.”