Engaging the Boss (Heirs of Damon) (7 page)

They
went down to their room. He took a shower, since he was slightly aroused and it
wouldn’t be smart to go to bed with her in that condition. By the time he came
out, she was under the covers and had turned off all but the light on his side
of the bed.

They
didn’t talk as he got in bed and turned off the light. It was earlier than he normally
went to sleep, but he didn’t feel like reading.

They
lay awake in silence for several minutes. She was perfectly still beside him,
but he knew she was awake.

Finally,
she said what she’d obviously been thinking about. “Your uncle is worried about
you.”

He
tensed slightly, not minding talking to her but not liking the direction of the
conversation. “What do you mean?”

“He’s
worried about you. He was asking me about you today in the garden. He wanted to
make sure you were happy.”

“What
did you tell him?”

“I
told him you were.”

He
relaxed slightly.

“He
loves you, you know.” Her voice was mild, almost casual. “He wants to connect
with you but doesn’t know how.”

Jonathan
didn’t say anything. Had no idea what to say, even if he’d wanted to.

“I
know you think he doesn’t care much about you, but he does. I think, if you
made a little effort to connect with him, it would pay off.”

A
thick bubble of feeling and confusion choked him. He had no idea how Sarah had
known that about him. He didn’t like that she knew. It made him feel
vulnerable.

As
vulnerable as the idea that his uncle wanted to connect with him. He’d never
believed that was true. Still couldn’t really believe it. He’d never been able
to do anything to really impress his uncle. Even his work at the lab wasn’t
enough.

“Jonathan?”
Sarah prompted finally.

“Yeah,”
he muttered. “It’s not really any of your business.”

“Okay.
Sorry.”

He’d
said the worst possible thing he could have said. He’d hurt her feelings. He
could hear it in her voice, sense it in the tension of her body beside his.
She’d been trying to help him, and he’d thrown it back into her face.

He
was an idiot and an ass in almost every way. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t
mean to—”

“No,
it’s fine. I understand. I shouldn’t pry.”

Her
voice was natural again, but he thought she was still upset.

“Goodnight,”
she added, ending the conversation by rolling over so she was facing away from
him on the bed.

Jonathan
wanted to say something, wanted to make it better. He wanted her to look at him
the way she’d been looking at him earlier that evening—like he was something
special.

He
wished he was like Harrison or Andrew, always able to find the right words.

But
he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to fix it. So he just said “goodnight” back to
her and rolled over away from her, counting down the days until this trip was
over and his life could return to normal again.

***

Jonathan wasn’t sure
how it happened.

He
wasn’t conscious of having an erotic dream, but the first thing he was aware of
on awakening was being deeply, dangerously aroused.

It
wasn’t like a normal morning hard-on either. The need was urgent, and it was
the only thing in the world he was aware of.

Then
he became conscious of a few more things, which only deepened his arousal. He must
have moved in his sleep because he was almost on top of a soft, warm, female
body.

She
was wearing some sort of tank top to sleep in, but it had somehow gotten pushed
up, so his bare chest pressed against the smooth, bare skin of her back.

Her
hair was all around, soft and fragrant, in his face, against his skin. He
shifted, since even in his half-awakened state, he knew he shouldn’t be lying
on top of someone.

He
was too heavy.

She
moaned when he moved, and the throaty sound went straight to his groin. She
pushed her bottom up as he shifted until it was in perfect, tortuous alignment
with his erection.

She
was still asleep, he realized. She made a huff of sound and pressed her hips up
again, as if she were instinctively seeking what she’d felt before.

No
wonder he’d woken up so turned off. She was clearly having a sexy dream, and it
felt all too real to him.

He
couldn’t seem to think. Couldn’t seem to focus. The world had reduced to a hot
haze of need, and nothing mattered but the feel of this woman and the throbbing
need of his body.

He
pushed back against her ass, letting out a breath at the delicious pressure
where he desperately needed it.

She
moaned and pushed up against his thrust.

Sarah.
He wanted Sarah so much.

Some
faint hint of awareness prodded its way into his muddled mind, telling him he
couldn’t hump a sleeping woman, no matter how desperately he needed to.

With
great effort, he started to roll over.

As
soon as he lifted his weight from her, she whimpered in protest and raised her
hips again. “No, no,” she mumbled, her cheek pressed against the pillow and her
eyes still closed. “Don’t stop. I want it. Please. I want it.”

She
was awake now, he realized. Whether she was before or not, he didn’t know. He
also didn’t know
how
awake she was. She was obviously aroused, but she
might not even be conscious of who he was.

If
she was awake, she wasn’t likely to want
him
.

“Jonathan,
please,” she breathed. “I want you. Please.” Her hands fumbled until she was clutching
the sheet beneath her with both hands.

He
groaned low in his throat, barely audible, as he rolled over her again, moving
into the same position. If she wanted this, wanted him, there was no way he’d
be able to stop himself.

He
pressed his groin into her soft, round ass, just as she was pressing it up
toward him. They both huffed in pleasure. Then they did it again.

A
clumsy, half-asleep dry hump wasn’t exactly what he would have chosen, but he
needed something, he needed
her
. And he would take what he could get.

Then
Sarah started shifting awkwardly beneath him, and he realized she was trying to
take off her little cotton shorts. He helped her, which was only polite.

At
least, that was what his fuzzy brain told him.

“Jonathan,”
she whimpered, lifting her now bare bottom toward him again. “Please, please.”

He
reached down to feel her intimately, taking a few moments in his uncoordinated
state to find and ascertain that she was really aroused, really wet. Then he
smothered a groan, pulled his erection free of his underwear, and raised her
bottom a little more so he could align himself at her entrance.

“Yes,
yes, I want it. Just like that.” She was still mostly on her stomach, with just
her butt in the air, and he’d never wanted anyone more.

He
straddled her hips and pushed into her slowly, groaning silently at the intense
pleasure of being enveloped by her hot, clinging channel. She moaned
uninhibitedly as he maneuvered his way in, as if it felt just as good to her.

He
loved how much she seemed to want him, as if she couldn’t possibly hold back
her response.

When
he began to thrust, it was in short, tight pumps by necessity, their position
allowing nothing else. But she huffed in pleasure on each in-stroke, her hands scrambling
for purchase in the bedding and her bottom eagerly rocking up to meet his
thrusts.

His
whole body was so tense he was shaking with it, and he was vaguely conscious of
the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this—he shouldn’t be fucking Sarah this way,
half-asleep and without discussion or preparation. But he couldn’t help it. She
obviously wanted it, and he couldn’t summon any sort of reasonable restraint.

He
braced himself on both arms above her, working his erection inside her in a way
that produced the kind of agonizing friction he needed. He wasn’t sure how long
it lasted—the urgent tangle of hot bodies, damp flesh, accelerating breath, and
soft moans and whimpers from Sarah.

Then
her body tightened dramatically and she gasped, “Oh, God, oh, God, I’m gonna
come.”

His
motion intensified as he thrust into her from behind, fast and hard. Then her
body clamped down around the orgasm, and she cried out in breathy pleasure as
she shook and shuddered beneath him.

“Jonathan,”
she rasped against the pillow. “So good. So good.”

He
kept thrusting even as she came down, too far gone to hold back his primitive
need to claim her in any way he could, and soon she cried, “Oh God! Again!” as
her body tightened up once more.

She
made a helpless sobbing sound as she came the second time, letting herself go
to the pleasure without any restraint.

She
gasped out his name again as she came down and her body started to soften. He
loved how she said it with a catch in the middle, as if she were too overcome
to speak. “Jon-athan. Jon-athan.”

He
had almost come with her the second time, only the idea of this ending and his
having to deal with the implications holding back the thread of his control.

He
didn’t want this to end. Not yet.

He
didn’t know what he would do when it was over.

Sarah had never come
during intercourse before—not once. It wasn’t that she couldn’t come at all,
but it had always been either from oral or manual pleasuring before or after
the main event. So, even if she had been in a thinking state, she never would
have expected to come the way she had. Twice.

She
was dazed and relaxed—and just starting to get self-conscious in her ungainly
position—when Jonathan pulled out and rearranged her body so she was on her
back beneath him. She parted her legs to make room for him, bending up her
knees and pulling his upper body down farther.

Much
more comfortable, she sighed in pleasure when he nudged at her entrance and
then slid himself in again. She was tighter around him now that she’d come.

Jonathan
made a breathy sound. It might have been her name said on an exhale. Then he
started to move over her, inside her, against her. She made a silly sound in
her throat as the friction triggered delicious sensations.

Part
of her knew this was crazy, knew she shouldn’t let him do this to her, knew it
might be good at the moment but it was going to be really hard to get over. But
that part of her was silenced by the roar of need and feeling that overwhelmed
her.

She
knew she was awake, but it didn’t feel like she was awake.

Sarah
Stratford, awake in her right mind, didn’t do things like this. She didn’t have
sex with Jonathan Damon in the middle of the night with wild, uninhibited
passion.

The
fact that she was—she
was
—made the whole thing even hotter. Jonathan was
bracing himself on straightened arms, little more than a dark shadow above her
in the unlit room. But she knew he was looking down on her, knew the intent
focus of his expression, in his eyes.

He
made love the way he did everything else, with absolute focus and instinct and
skill.

His
hips were working urgently, and heat radiated off his body in waves. His
breathing was fast and raspy, but otherwise he didn’t make any sounds.

She
rocked up to meet his thrusts, the beginnings of thinking awareness swallowed
up again in the wave of pleasure and need.

He
wasn’t a selfish lover or even a slightly thoughtless one like Matt had been,
trying for a while but then eventually chasing his own satisfaction. Jonathan was
aware of her the whole time, recognizing what she wanted, what she needed, and
giving it to her without hesitation. When she clutched at his ass, desperately
wanting him to accelerate his steady thrusts, he did. When she squeezed her
fingers down to rub her clit, the intense pressure of the pleasure becoming
almost torturous, he adjusted to make room for her hand.

She
moaned as she rubbed herself, the added sensations pushing her over the
plateau.

“Yes,”
she heard herself panting, “So good, Jonathan. So good. Faster.”

He
thrust into her faster, and she bent up her knees as she felt another orgasm
building inside her. She gave a helpless sob as it finally broke, slamming into
her in rhythmic waves. She clawed his shoulders with her fingernails, trying to
hold on as she rode out the pleasure with her hips.

“Jon-athan,”
she gasped, when the intensity started to fade and a delicious relaxation took
its place. Her body felt almost limp as the tightened muscles let go. “So good.
So good.”

He
grunted, evidently in response to her words. But he was still hard inside her,
and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was always such a stallion or if he was
making a special effort for her.

“Now
it’s your turn,” she said, surprised when her voice was slightly cracked. She reached
up and pulled him down into a kiss before she had a chance to think about
whether it was a good idea.

They
hadn’t kissed earlier, just woke up fully aroused and started going at it. She
had no idea if he even wanted to kiss her.

He
responded though. Immediately. His mouth moved against hers skillfully,
eagerly, and she opened so his tongue could slip inside and tangle with hers.
His hips started to rock as they kissed, easing into a gentle rhythm that
matched the rhythm of his tongue.

Then
he broke off the kiss without warning, turning his head to the side and gasping
loudly.

She
couldn’t see his face clearly, she couldn’t see his eyes at all, but she knew
he was trying to hold back.

She
reached up and took his face in both of her hands, his bristles deliciously
scratchy against her palms. “You’ve given me enough,” she said. “I want you to
take what you want now.”

She
didn’t know if her words worked or if he was just too far gone. But he let out
a smothered sound and pushed one of her knees up toward her shoulder,
stretching her out farther and allowing him to sink more deeply inside her.

They
both moaned at the resulting sensations.

He
held her in that position as he started to move. He was too deep to really
thrust, but he pushed into her. His whole body was clenched up like a fist, so
tight he was almost shaking with it. And his breathing was ragged and loud in
the otherwise quiet room.

Sarah
tried to process all of the sensations, but they were too deep, too strong, too
much, too aching. It was mostly pleasure even though she was never going to be
able to come like this. She didn’t even want to.

“That’s
right, that’s good,” she kept gasping as he rocked both of their bodies with
the force of his thrusts. “That’s good, yes, please, take what you want.”

She
could feel as he got closer to climax. He fell out of rhythm and his panting
turned into soft grunts. Her chest ached with emotion that almost matched the
feeling in her body as he finally took what he needed.

He
didn’t cry out like she had, just made a half-suppressed sound in his throat.
But she knew he’d come hard. He shuddered above her as it overtook him, and
then he collapsed on top of her, dragging in thick gasps of air against her
neck.

He
was heavy. And very hot. And she didn’t know if she was feeling his sweat or
hers.

She
didn’t care.

Her
body was sated, relaxed. And her heart felt even better. Because she knew she’d
given Jonathan something, something he hadn’t been able to get in another way.

He’d
needed her, and she’d met that need. And he’d given her something back.

And
it was so good.

He
didn’t move immediately. She could feel him softening until he slipped out of
her body. Then it was really wet.

They
hadn’t used a condom.

They
hadn’t intended to do this at all.

She
could feel a soreness now, since he’d been inside her deep. And he felt even
heavier than before. His breathing had slowed, but it wasn’t steady yet. His
face was buried in her hair.

It
was two o’clock in the morning, and Sarah had just made love to her boss.

It
felt kind of like she needed to go the bathroom, but she didn’t want to move,
didn’t want him to roll off her, didn’t want to lose his weight, the texture of
his hair and skin.

She
wanted to do it again.

She
wanted him—in a way she never should.

But
he’d needed her too. She was sure of it.

And
that was something.

*
* *

Jonathan was so wiped
out from sex with Sarah that he fell asleep before he realized it.

He
hadn’t intended to. He never should have given into desire, but he had—and it
seemed rude to go to sleep before they’d had a chance to talk about it and get
things sorted out.

So
he’d been trying to get himself together—get his mind to work with something
other than the blurry fog of satisfaction and relief and to find some
appropriate words to say—but he fell asleep instead.

Sarah
must have fallen asleep too, since when he woke up she was still beside him,
naked except for the little tank top she still wore. She was curled up next to
him, her hair in her face and one of her arms draped over his belly.

He
liked how it felt there.

But
it was morning now—not the blurry darkness of the night. The room was lit by
the sunlight peaking in around the drapes, and he could see her clearly.

He
hadn’t been able to see her very well last night. Just feel her. But he’d known
even by touch that her body was the most sensuous, beautiful thing he’d ever
experienced.

He
hadn’t been wrong. The sheet had slipped down to her hips, and he could clearly
see the lush curves and dips of her form. She was so soft, made for touching.
And, even now, he could barely resist.

She
was still sound asleep, her lashes spread out against her skin. She nestled
against him more closely, as if she were getting cold.

Automatically,
he reached down to pull up the sheet and coverlet over her. Before he did, he
was distracted by the most enchanting curve—the graceful dip at the small of
her back, just as it curved up into her bottom. Despite how hard he’d come a
few hours earlier, his body took interest in that spot.

Her
skin was pale. Pale and perfect. A delicate contrast to the vibrancy of her
hair.

He
pulled up the covers, hiding her from his sight.

It
wouldn’t do to get fully aroused again, since he wouldn’t be able to do
anything about it.

Covering
her up didn’t do much good, though. He could still feel her. Her breasts were
pressed up against his side, and her arm still clung to him, as if she didn’t
want to let him go even in her sleep.

After
a few minutes, when no amount of mental lecturing could dampen his arousal, he
pulled out from under her arm and climbed out of the bed.

He
went immediately to take a shower, trying to rinse off the feel, the smell, the
taste of her. Knowing she was still mostly naked in bed, if he couldn’t wash
her off him, he wouldn’t have a chance of getting out of the room without
taking her again.

It
was a much longer shower than usual by the time he felt recovered and more like
himself. He shaved while he was in the bathroom, and then put on one of the
bathrobes provided in the guestrooms, since he hadn’t thought to bring any
clothes into the bathroom with him.

Sarah
was awake when he came back into the room. She’d pulled her pajama shorts back
on and was sitting on the side of the bed, her arms crossed over her belly.

Her
hair was a tousled mess, and her eyelids heavier than normal, making her look
even sexier than she usually did.

But
her face was sober, and her eyes were worried as she looked up at him.

He
went over to sit beside her on the bed.

He
wanted to ask her how she felt, whether she was all right, whether he’d ruined
everything by giving into lust in the dark of the night.

What
he said was, “We should have used a condom.”

She
swallowed and glanced away from him. “Yeah.”

He’d
said the wrong thing as he always did. He knew he had. He couldn’t tell if she
was annoyed or hurt, but something was wrong. He felt awful—like a selfish
ass—and he needed to know if she was all right. “Are you—” His voice broke,
since he felt so concerned.

Before
he could continue, she’d turned back. “I’m on birth control. I just never went
off it after Matt and I broke up. So we’re all right on that front. And I
haven’t slept with anyone since Matt. So, as long as you’re…” She trailed off.

“I’m
healthy,” he said. He hadn’t had sex in longer than she had, but he didn’t say
it. He still wanted to know if she was all right, but that part of the
conversation seemed to have passed.

He
just wasn’t any good at this.

“What
do you—” She glanced down at her hands, which were twisting in her lap now.
“What do you think we should do? About this?” She glanced back toward the bed,
as if she needed to explain what “this” was.

He
knew very well what “this” was.

Still
feeling guilty and confused and strangely terrified, he began, “I shouldn’t
have…I should have stopped us.”

“I
was awake too. As much as you were. We just weren’t thinking.” Her head was
lowered now, her hair shielding her face from his view. It frustrated him,
since he couldn’t tell how she was feeling.

She’d
sounded natural and casual enough. Maybe she was.

He
sat in silence and stared at the soft waves of her hair. He wanted this to be
over. He wanted it to have never happened. He wanted to be back in his lab with
a Sarah he knew and trusted, a Sarah that didn’t make him feel things he’d
never felt.

She
finally looked up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. “We can just call
it one of those things. A fluke. We can pretend it never happened. If you
want.” Her voice lifted slightly at the end, making the words a question.

It
was exactly what he wanted. She didn’t seem hurt or disappointed. She was
obviously not nursing a secret passion for him. It would be so much easier than
trying to sort through everything he was feeling and make some kind of sense of
it.