Getting Played (Heart of Fame #7) (6 page)

A smile pulled at his lips.

Perfect. The mahogany desk was wide, sturdy and uncluttered. On its surface sat a laptop, opened, a few pens and an iPod dock, complete with iPod. The laptop and pens would be easy to move. The iPod and dock would, no doubt, provide the perfect soundtrack to his plans.

Body thrumming with anticipation, he pushed himself from the door and, releasing his belt buckle as he went, made his way to her desk.

Slipping his belt free of the loops on his jeans with one hand, he tapped on the track pad of her laptop, waking the computer.

An image of the Con taken at dusk filled the screen.

Jax screwed up his mouth. Damn, that was boring. Hmmm, not at all what the Nat he knew would have had on her laptop. That Nat would have had—and
did
have, all those years ago—an image of some hot guy. In fact, when they’d gone their separate ways, he was pretty sure she had an image of a half-naked Hugh Jackman on her laptop. Where had
that
Nat gone?

Yanking his shirt free of his waistband, he moved his attention to the iPod in its dock. With a quick jab of his finger, he turned the dock on.

A low hum filled the room as the Bang and Olufsen speakers activated.

Jax nodded his approval, removed his shirt, tossed it over his shoulder, and then, while toeing his boots off his feet, scrolled through her recently played playlist.

“Ahh, there’s the Nat I know,” he murmured, a warm flutter of delight dancing deep in his gut.

The top ten songs were all Nick Blackthorne songs, followed by five AC/DC songs, a few Bon Jovi and four Guns N’ Roses tracks.

Pressing his thumb to the first song on the list—Nick’s “Glass Houses”—he smiled as the music he knew with every fibre in his body flooded the room.

He smiled, closed his eyes and shucked his jeans down his legs.

The cool, environmentally controlled air of Nat’s office licked over his naked body. His cock, hard and mightily erect, reacted a little to the temperature change before recovering with impressive steel.

Jax scratched at his belly, positioned Nat’s plush, leather seat exactly where he wanted it and plonked his naked arse squarely onto it.

His balls rose up at the sudden impact and then settled back where they belonged. With a satisfied grunt, he leant back in the chair, threaded his fingers behind his head and crossed his ankles on the edge of Nat’s desk.

Ready.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A few moments later, Nat walked through the door.

“Hey, Boxhead,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around his still mightily erect dick.

Nat snapped to a halt. She stared at him, at his cock, back at him again, her mouth wide. And then let out a squeaking yelp as a tall man in an impeccable suit and hipster horn-rimmed glasses walked straight into her back.

Jax blinked. Well fuck, he hadn’t expected this.

“What are you doing, Natalie?” the hipster muttered, crouching down to collect the papers he’d dropped when he’d collided with her back.

Nat didn’t answer him. Her stare didn’t leave Jax. He stared back, grin wide, and wriggled his toes.

“Ummm…” she croaked, remaining motionless.

From the level of her knees, Mr. Horn-rims clucked with disapproval. “You knew I was right behind you. And do you always leave your office with this…
music
playing so loud?”

“Sorry, Minister,” Nat rasped, her gaze still fixed on Jax.

He winked at her.

There wasn’t really any other option, was there?

Exasperation twisting her lips, she waved her hand at him in a furious gesture he wasn’t entirely sure he understood, and then she pivoted on her sensible heel and crouched down level with Mr. Horn-rims, artfully placing herself between the man and her desk.

Jax smirked. Clever minx was trying to hide him.

“Let me help you with those,” he heard her say as she started snatching up loose sheets of paper.

Mr. Horn-rims started to raise his head.

Jax didn’t move, waiting instead for the man’s gaze to fall on him. Well, actually he
did
move. He settled deeper into Nat’s comfy chair and adjusted his fingers behind his head.

“Minister,” Nat burst out, slapping her palms either side of Mr. Horn-rims’ face and jerking his attention to her. “I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

Jax chuckled silently. This was fun.

He watched the man gape at Nat, confusion mixed with disbelief swimming in the eyes behind the lenses of those glasses. Minister? Religious or political? He didn’t look religious. At least not in Jax’s opinion.

“Are you okay, Natalie?” the minister asked.

Nat jolted to her feet, still positioning herself between Jax and the guy now staring up at her like she’d sprouted an extra head. “I’m fine, Minister,” she gushed, pointing at the ground behind her back with furious jabs. “I think maybe something at lunch has made me feel…maybe the wine…”

Mr. Horn-rims frowned as he scooped up the last sheet. “You didn’t have any wine, Natalie.”

“I didn’t?” Nat continued to jab her index finger at the floor, fidgeting on her sensible heels in an attempt to keep Jax from the minister’s sight. Jax decided, as soon as he could, he was going to remove those boring, un-Nat-like shoes from her feet and toss them out the window.

“You didn’t,” Mr. Horn-rims said, confusion mixing with wary uncertainty. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Truly, I’m fine,” Nat replied. Jax couldn’t help but admire the tight curve of her arse in her boring, un-Nat-like dress. He’d strip that from her ASAP as well. “I’m just a tad flustered. It’s not every day I have the Minister for the Arts and Culture in my office.”

Jax let out a silent
ah-ha
. So
that’s
who the hipster was. Jeremy Craig. Federal Minister for the Arts and Culture.

“I was here last week,” Minister Craig said.

Nat’s answering laugh was flustered. “You were?” Hand behind her back, she gestured wildly at the floor again with her finger. Again, Jax grinned. God, her arse really was sexy.

“You see how flustered I am?” she went on. She shot a harried glance over her shoulder, no doubt desperate enough to see if Jax had done what she wanted him to do.

He smirked at her. Dropped her a wink. Wriggled his toes. His cock also contributed to the jaunty greeting by doing its own jerky move.

“I think we need,” Minister Craig said, consternation in his voice, “to get on with what we’re here for, don’t you?”

Nat glowered at Jax for a microsecond, mouthed something at him—he had no idea what—and spun back to the Minister for the Arts and Culture. “Sure, can I just show you this photo of the—”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?”

Suspicion cut the minister’s voice now.

Jax watched Nat tense. Saw the minister try to peer around her.

The thought of staying exactly where he was crossed Jax’s mind…a devilish, enticing notion…before, with all the speed and agility he used to escape frenzied fans and furious fathers/brothers/boyfriends, he flung himself under Nat’s desk.

Out of sight.

But not, he was determined, out of Nat’s mind.

The epic sound of “Whispers in the Night” recorded live in London hid his chuckle as he tucked himself into a comfortable position under Nat’s desk.

This was going to be fun.

Chapter Four

He wasn’t there.

Nat stared at her empty seat, her heart racing faster than Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee”.

He wasn’t there. Jaxon Campbell—naked and thoroughly aroused—had vanished from sight.

God. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried.

Pulling a steadying breath, she walked across the floor of her office, casting the Minister for the Arts and Culture a calming smile as she did so. “There’s nothing
to
hide, Minister,” she said, rounding the corner of her desk to reach for her chair.

Movement at the floor caught her eye and she missed a step.

Jax grinned up at her from beneath her desk.

Her heart slammed up into her throat and continued its manic pace there.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jeremy?” the minister asked.

Mouth dry, she jerked her stare back to him.

Jeremy Craig, the man responsible for a hell of a lot of Con government funding, smiled at her. “Please? Minister is so formal.”

“This is a formal meeting, isn’t it?” she croaked, inching closer to her chair.

From the shadows beneath her desk, Jax watched her. She could feel his gaze on her body like a slow, hot caress.

Her throat constricted at the thought.

The minister laughed. “It stopped being formal somewhere around the time you slapped my face with your hands, don’t you think? Or maybe it was when you informed me my taste in music sucks during lunch. Tell me again, what’s wrong with Celine Dion?” To her horror, he settled into the seat opposite her desk and beamed up at her.

She stared at him. Great, now she would have to sit in her seat. With Jax lurking under her desk. Naked.

And horny.

“Are you going to take a seat, Natalie?”

She startled at the minister’s question and blushed. She fidgeted her way to her seat and, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip, lowered herself onto the edge of the plush leather cushion.

Instantly, a warm hand slipped around her ankle.

She gasped.

Jeremy Craig frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay, Natalie?”

Swallowing at the rapid heartbeat in her throat, she nodded. Another hand smoothed around her other ankle. “I’m fine,” she blurted, shifting on her seat.

The leather made a low creaking sound. A low chuckle rumbled from beneath her desk, almost inaudible, as the two hands circling her ankles began to smooth up her calves.

She pressed her thighs together. If Jax discovered she wasn’t wearing knickers…

Across her desk, the Minister for Arts and Culture gave her a dubious look. “Do you want to turn down the music?” he asked, throwing a puzzled glance at her iPod dock.

Jax’s hands smoothing up her calves, she leant forward and lowered the volume a little. Enough to have a conversation, but not enough that the sound of her backside rubbing against leather could be heard.

And why is your butt going to be rubbing against the leather, Natalie Thorton? Hmmm?

She gave Jeremy a wobbly smile in return. “Now,” she said, desperate to keep her voice poised. It was difficult. Jax had reached her knees and was doing a very good job of inching her thighs apart. Surely he would stop soon. Wouldn’t he? “We should continue to discuss the government’s grant for the extensions.”

Jeremy laughed, his light-blue eyes dancing behind his glasses. “I think we’ve discussed it enough, Natalie.”

Beneath her desk, Jax echoed the minister’s laugh. The difference was
his
lips were pressed to the inside of her right knee.

Her belly knotted. Her breath caught in her constricted throat. Christ, how had he managed to get her thighs so wide?

“What I’d like to discuss—” Jeremy leant forward in his seat, holding her gaze with his, “—is the upcoming Prime Minister’s Ball.”

“Why?” Nat squeaked. Oh God, Jax was going to discover she wasn’t wearing—

A low hum of approval sounded at her knees as a steady finger traced the seam of her pussy lips.

She hitched in a ragged breath, staring at Jeremy.

“Because I’d like you to attend it with me,” the minister said.

Jax stroked his finger over her labia again, upward this time, until he found her clit.

Raw, forbidden pleasure detonated through Nat. She bit back a whimper, forcing her smile to stay put on her lips. “With you?” Holy shit, she sounded like she was about to have an asthma attack.

Jeremy nodded. Jax rolled his finger over her clit again.

“We’ve spent quite a lot of time together lately,” Jeremy went on, lowering his stare—thank fucking God—to his cuffs. “More than one professional luncheon, quite a few performances here at the Con—”

“All in a professional capacity,” Nat pointed out, squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to stop Jax tormenting her clit with his finger. Her attempt failed. With two strong hands, he grabbed her hips and yanked her closer to the very edge of her seat.

She let out a gasp and then another one as he not only continued to stimulate the tiny button of flesh that was her clitoris, but also slowly sank a finger into her wet pussy.

“Oh…” she moaned, closing her eyes at the wickedly wanton sensations unfurling through the pit of her belly. She gripped the edge of the desk.

“I know this is unexpected.” Jeremy’s voice scraped at her ears even as Jax’s finger or thumb—she had no way of knowing—stroked at the inner wall of her centre, right on the sweet spot she knew
he
knew so very well.

“But you have to admit, we do seem to enjoy each other’s company.”