Burned Deep (22 page)

Patricia noticed she'd lost me and stopped mid-sentence. Dane reached us and he politely asked if she'd mind giving us a few minutes alone.

I gnawed my lower lip in consternation.

“Certainly, Mr. Bax. I'm due for a refill, anyway.” She lifted her cappuccino mug from the table and gestured toward mine. “Ready for another?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I'm good.” I didn't need anything else making me jittery. Dane's stern expression did that all on its own. Not to mention, he looked hotter than hell in a dark-gray suit with a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal that pulsating spot at the base of his throat I wanted to press my lips to—and the strong angles of his collarbone that I wanted to run my tongue along.

My fingers twitched. If I could just unbutton the rest of the shirt flap and splay my hands over his hard pecs, the way I'd done Friday night …

Sliding into the chair across from me, he set a slim black leather folio on the glass and pushed it my way. “Did you really think you were going to slip this by me?”

The challenge in his voice was tinged with displeasure.

“I'm not sure what you're talking about.”

His brow jerked.

Had he somehow found out my mother's devious plot—and that I'd attempted to pay her off with a measly five grand? Measly by her and Dane's standards, because it was a hell of a lot of money to me.

I tried to breathe. How could he possibly have learned of that? And why would he care, anyway?

I flipped open the folder and stared at the piece of paper inside.

Kyle's résumé.

Oh, boy.
This might be worse.

“He's really very talented,” I said in Kyle's—and my—defense. “I've seen his portfolio. When we were at the Delfinos' house. He showed me the Web version on his phone.”

“He's not working here, Ari.” Dane's tone was flat and decisive. “You think I don't know his intentions?”

“Dane. I told him to apply. It wasn't even his idea. It was mine.”

Dane stared at me as though I'd grown a third eye. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.” I braced myself for his angst. “It's not a big deal. He and I are not … anything. Just friends, like I keep saying. So it'd be okay. And, let's face it, you need people who are gifted and trustworthy.”

Sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his massive chest, he speared me with a firm look. “How am I supposed to consider him trustworthy when every time I turn my back he's coming on to you? What makes you think I'll tolerate that after the arrangement
we
made?”

That jealousy bit again. It did the craziest things to me. I fought the smile, because it would only piss him off, I was sure. “You don't have to trust him. You have to trust
me.
”

His expression turned ever more somber.

I sighed. “Personally, I think he's a good guy. And he wants the job. As it relates to me…” I rested my forearms on the table and leaned toward Dane. In a soft voice, I said, “You can't honestly think, for one single second, that Kyle poses any sort of threat.”

He didn't appear convinced. “Maybe you don't realize that heads snap in your direction when you walk into a room. I see it.”

“You really notice stuff like that?”

“When it comes to you,” he said, his gaze deep and intent, “yes.”

I pulled in a steadying breath.

“Sharing you isn't a possibility.”

“You don't have to share me,” I assured him. “You wanted exclusivity. I'm not my mother. I'm not a cheater. But…”

Dare I ask the question practically burning a hole in my head?

He eyed me speculatively. “But what?”

I swallowed hard. I risked pissing him off further, but I just had to know. “You didn't call me all weekend. If you had a table at the fund-raiser that likely means you had a … a date. I want the same terms from you that you demand of me—mutual exclusivity.”

God, that sounded so small and petty. Yet, it wasn't. Not when it came to Dane. The mere thought of another woman on his arm, even just for social appearances, shredded me. I didn't even want him to notice other women, let alone be with one.

Which meant it took all the willpower I possessed not to bring up Mikaela—and ask if she'd been at the fund-raiser as well.

In a tight voice, he said, “I've made my intentions
very
clear. I gave you some space this weekend. Under no circumstances should that ever be misconstrued as me being with another woman. Ever.”

His green gaze bored into me and my pulse jumped.

“It was strictly business,” Dane added, “with associates. No date.”

“Oh.” I inhaled deeply. “Okay.” I was extremely unnerved to discover
I
had a jealous streak. There'd never been any cause for it before. Yet with Dane I was filled with anxiety just thinking of the number of batting eyelashes that came his way.

“Ari,” he said, snagging my attention. “That is absolutely the last thing you have to worry about.”

Thank God, because I already had a lengthy list of worries.

“Fine. But that goes for you, too. Especially where Kyle is concerned.”

“About that—”

“Hey,” I said with a somewhat imploring look. “What happened to giving me anything I wanted?”

His eyes smoldered. “You're going to owe me for this one.” Then he got to his feet and sauntered off.

Leaving me dying of curiosity to know what
that
meant.

*   *   *

“More catalogs for you, Miss DeMille.”

“Ari is fine, Jason. And thank you.”

The mail clerk hefted a stack of high-end catalogs I'd ordered off the Internet that contained holiday and other decorations. I'd decided that in addition to jumping on hiring staff, I needed to quickly formulate a plan for all the Christmas and event accessories. Since the pre-launch activities occurred prior to New Year's Eve, around Christmastime, and we'd no doubt leave up the decorations into the first week of January at least—it was an easy theme with which to work. But I'd need lots of decorations and, knowing it'd take some time to wade through all of the offerings,
sooner rather than later
was my current motto.

Jason left me and I started scouring the pages, ripping them out whenever something caught my eye. Several hours passed and my conference table was covered with images. I hadn't even made it all the way through my stack.

I glanced at the wall behind me, eyeing the space.

“Assessing pictures to hang?”

My head whipped around. Dane stood just inside my office, closing the door behind him. Since it had an automatic lock, excitement gripped me. It was after seven and I suspected most everyone on the floor had gone home.

Trying not to sound all breathy and awestruck at the sight of him, I said, “I was just thinking that I need corkboard on the wall so I can hang some of these decoration ideas. I need them staring me in the face to help spark my creativity.”

“I'll take care of it,” he said.

“I'm sure you have more important things to do.”

“At the moment, yes.” He crossed to the tall windows and pulled the drapes. The room immediately dimmed, since the chandelier was the only light I had on and it was at a low setting.

I didn't have time to process all the electric undercurrents running rampant at his suggestive gaze. He popped the buttons on his suit jacket and I just about incinerated at his feet.

Moving closer, he reached for my hand and pulled me to him.

“We really shouldn't at the office,” I weakly protested.

“You don't leave me many options when you work late.”

“I have a lot to do.”

“Mm, so do I.” His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Starting here.” His warm lips brushed over mine.

Our lips tangled. Slowly. Seductively. Had it been anyone else guiding me in this direction, I would have said it was pointless to try to engage me in this manner.

But I wasn't dealing with just
anyone.

Dane knew how to draw me in, completely and provocatively. So that I eased toward him, wanting more. So that I responded by curling my fingers around his biceps, hating that his suit jacket kept me from getting a better grip on him.

His tongue swept over my bottom lip and a moan lodged in my throat. He took that as encouragement and his tongue slipped inside, twisting and teasing. His arms slid around my waist and he hauled me up against his solid chest and abs.

The kiss went on and on. Becoming more seductive. More searing. More powerful.

In the hazy part of my mind, I finally understood why I'd never gotten seriously involved with anyone. No one had ever affected me like this. No one had
ever
kissed me like this. So that my hold on him tightened and I met the changing inclination of his head, testing all the different angles, not breaking the intimate contact. So that I tasted him, breathed him in, experienced all the passionate nuances of a scorching kiss that pushed everything from my mind except the excitement coursing through my veins and the feel of Dane responding so vehemently, so skillfully, that I could think of nothing but him.

I didn't even hesitate, didn't balk, when he led me to the sofa, still kissing me deeply. The backs of my legs bumped the couch and we eased down onto the plump cushion. I rested against the pile of pillows in the corner, the satin quilt beneath me. His fingers grazed my bare thigh, at the hem of my skirt.

The incessant throbbing within me began again. I instinctively clenched my legs together in hopes of staving it off, to somehow quell or slow the need building much too quickly.

He broke our kiss and against my lips simply muttered, “Ari.”

My eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was fixed on me. Fiery and demanding.

“Don't stop me.”

My chest rose and fell in sharp, staccato beats that matched my heart. My pulse jumped at pressure points that made me insanely aware of how much I wanted him, how much I
didn't
want to stop him.

But my legs remained pressed together.

He kissed me again and it sizzled.
We
sizzled. I got ridiculously caught up in the heat of the moment, swept away by the sort of sexual chemistry that made sensible women do irrational things. Like shove a man's suit jacket over his shoulders and down his arms as he continued to do sinful things with his tongue. Like fumble hopelessly with the buttons on his shirt, fingers trembling because I wanted him so much that he had to help.

As the material hung open, I ran my hands all over his hard chest, his cut abs, even reaching around to his back and splaying my palms over muscles that flexed beneath my touch.

He was so hot, so beautifully chiseled. I wanted to strip him bare and crawl all over him, rubbing myself against him, feeling his skin on mine.

He kept kissing me as though he couldn't get enough of me. The thought sent a thrill down my spine.

With deft fingers he undid my blouse and then palmed my breasts through the white lace of my bra. His thumbs swept over my pebbled nipples, puckering them even more, making them tingle.

Another moan welled in my throat. He dragged his mouth from mine and his lips skimmed over my jaw and down my neck, nipping along the way.

I was instantly restless and in desperate need of him. “Dane,” I pleaded.

His head dipped farther and his tongue flicked over my nipple, the lace creating extra friction.

“Oh, God.” My head fell back, my eyes closed as he lavished my breasts with fluttering licks, then deep suckling. I writhed beneath him, drowning in the smell of him, the feel of him. Losing myself in the erotic sensations burning through me.

He squeezed my breasts roughly, conveying urgency, impatience. A sharp moan fell from my lips. My fingers plowed through his messy hair. I felt his erection against my leg and I knew this wasn't going to be slow and leisurely. It would be fevered and intense, like Friday night.

“You have a sensational body. I want to see all of it. All of you.”

He whisked off my blouse and bra. Shoved my skirt down my hips as I raised them. He tossed my clothes aside. I was sprawled on the gold satin quilt in nothing more than a white lace thong and high heels. Cool air blew over the newly exposed flesh and it was a welcome relief, because I was on fire. His fingers trailed along my skin, over my quivering belly, to the apex of my legs. Enticing me, exciting me.

His gaze held mine. His fingers skimmed over the lace.

“Dane.” I couldn't seem to think beyond him. Beyond my need for him.

He stared at me in his smoldering way as I tried to catch my breath. His jaw clenched. I was held prisoner by his intensity, by the lust that rolled off him in waves.

And then he started stroking. A featherlight touch.

Our eyes remained locked as his fingertips gently massaged my folds, heightening the dull ache inside me. He pressed a little firmer, stroked a little faster. His lips tangled with mine again. Sexy little kisses that taunted the senses.

My other hand shifted from his back and pressed to the side of his neck, keeping his head bent, keeping him kissing me.

His fingers slipped behind my panties and he caressed masterfully. The skin-on-skin contact made my hips jerk. I was hypersensitive to his touch, so charged it was a wonder I didn't vibrate from head to toe.

He rubbed my clit with just the right amount of pressure, gradually picking up the pace to match my choppy breaths.

My nipples tightened, begging for his attention again. My hips rolled of their own accord, silently demanding more. Lusty whimpers fell from my lips.

His mouth glided over my chin and down my throat, kissing, biting.

“You're so wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

He eased a finger inside my pussy.

Lightning seemed to zap my core.