ROMANCE: MY ALIEN KING: Scifi Alien Invasion Abduction Contemporary Romance (Paranormal Fantasy BBW Alien Contact Anthologies & Collections Book 1) (92 page)

“This project not only incorporates greenspace, but allows for a large amount of special interest tourism. If you consider,” she kept talking. She didn’t dare look around. She was pretty sure when it was all over she’d be handed her walking papers, but she still couldn’t be quiet.

She finished with, “If you run the numbers you’ll see that this project alone could help grow tourism by at least another three to five percent and, if the city cooperated and aligned its own projects with this project, you could actually pull in higher numbers. Tourism pours money into the city on every level. Taxes, hotels, food and dining, service-based businesses, especially those who have some sort of connection to the specialized tourism that this project would bring.”

Dead silence. Her face flared red-hot. Stanley said, “I see. Well that sheds new light on the situation, doesn’t it? How sure are you of those numbers?”

“Very sure, sir.” And she was sure. She’d done a number of calculations when she’d helped her old boss decide whether moving the tea room would be a wise move financially.

The members of the Commission looked at each other and then back at her. Dante said, “The city is in need of tourism and is actively courting more tourist-friendly activities, correct? We can offer the catalyst here.”

Megan sat back as the tide swung and the commission dropped its defenses and began to play ball. By the time they left it was well after noon and she was so nervous she could barely speak.

The commission members left and just the firm’s partners, Megan, and Dante remained in the room. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry I intruded on your meeting. I… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Dante said, “I’m thinking you just helped us to sign them on. How did you know about the tourism angle? And why didn’t any of us see that?”

Brad Draper spoke. “Because we all assumed that Roger Booth would have already discussed tourism with them, and we never considered that we might actually be a tourist draw.”

Dante said, “Well, we are considering it now. Get me everything you can, you guys. Paul, you and Roger try to find out what we can incorporate to make tourism even more attractive to people. If we draw crowds, we draw interest. Interest means money.”

They all nodded and headed out. Megan looked down at her hands. She took a long breath. She wasn’t sure what to say or do.

Dante said, “I’m starving. I would ask if you’ve had lunch but I know you haven’t, so come on.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Lunch,” he said succinctly. “I know you’re an intern. That means we don’t pay you. The very least you should have is a decent lunch.”

She stood. She was hungry. She’d been too nervous for breakfast and there was a very scant amount of money in her bank account so she’d packed a sandwich into her bag, but she was by no means sorry to let it stay there.

“Thank you,” she said.

Dante said, “No, thank you.” His hand touched her shoulder, just lightly. That small and innocent touch fired off every nerve and cell in her body. Desire washed over her, taking her breath with it.

She should say no. She knew she should say no. Being around Dante was dangerous. He was dangerous. He was a man who had once been quoted as saying that, when it came to women, he was a firm believer in catch and release. She didn’t need to get hung up in wanting him. It would make doing her job impossible, and her entire future depended on this internship turning out well for her.

She knew all those things, but when he turned and left the room she followed him anyway.

CHAPTER 3:

Dante was a bit unsettled. Megan was beyond intelligent. She had the ability to see things even he had not considered, and that bothered him. That they, he and his partners, had not considered something as viable as tourism really pissed him off. They could have lost the whole deal and had to invest millions more into putting the project somewhere besides the place they wanted it if she hadn’t spoken up and nailed the commission to the table.

It wasn’t just her intelligence, either. The woman was stunning. She obviously didn’t know that, and there was a type of innocence hanging off her skin like a tempting perfume that called to him even while he told himself she was far too different from the women he usually went after.

He knew her type. No social life. Lots of ambition. He could see right through the good clothes and shoes to the blue-collar kid beneath the fancy trappings. She was just the way he had been, ten years before.

He should send her down to Brad or to Paul. But Paul was really struggling lately, and the last thing Dante needed was for
Brad
to get close to Megan. The very idea filled him with a sudden and unwelcome jealousy. Brad was even more of a playboy than he was and he would probably seduce her right there on his desk for the sheer hell of it.

Again with the jealousy.

That annoyed him.

He had no reason to be jealous. He barely knew her, and he most certainly didn’t have any claim on her. Or interest in her either.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that buddy
, he thought wryly.
You’re crazy interested in her.

His interest grew as they headed out of the glass-and-concrete building and into the traffic that clogged Midtown. He asked, “Do you like Thai food?”

“I do.” She was staring resolutely at the window and he glanced over at her profile. The woman was gorgeous and intelligent and obviously not interested in him. Naturally, he had to have her.

He put the brakes on that line of thinking. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in chasing a woman who was only there to learn as much as she could, and hopefully either get a job with his company or their biggest competitor. He also didn’t need a harassment lawsuit.

And he’d do well to remember that.

***

The days passed, and Dante found himself having to remind himself more frequently that Megan was completely off-limits. But it was getting harder and harder.

He’d done what he always did. He talked to her and gleaned information about her that she didn’t even know she was giving. He’d been right. She came from a solidly middle class home. Her father was a steel worker and her mother a librarian, of all things. Her older brother was a veterinarian and her sister was a nurse. Quiet and modestly successful people, all of them.

Megan had zero interest in the things most women were interested in when it came to him. She never looked at his watches or touched his cars the way they did. She wasn’t impressed with the steakhouses or the fact that he often ordered thousand-dollar bottles of wine at the lunches he took her to. Maybe she didn’t know they were so costly, or maybe she just didn’t care. Either way, he was utterly captivated by her, and he grew more so every day.

Dante had never been smitten before, and he had no clue how to handle it, or her. Megan usually seemed as remote as the moon. She was interested in her work. After he had gotten the tourism numbers, about which she had been utterly correct, he put her on the project, acting not as his assistant but as an actual part of the Planning and Development Committee.

He was going to keep her on at the company, of course; he’d be a fool to lose her. But as time went by, it became abundantly clear that he would be a fool to lose her in any way. She was the women he had always thought of when he thought of the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

And she wanted nothing at all to do with him.

It was ironic and irritating all at the same time.

***

Megan knew one thing for a fact: she was going to have to leave when her internship was over. Being around Dante had become an exercise in thwarted desire and need. Being within a meter of him sent her body into freefall, and what was more, the longer she was around him and the more she got to know him, the more appealing he became.

He was witty and charming and, surprisingly enough, he was very open too. Tonight they sat at a little restaurant near the office, tucked away in a corner booth that was dimly lit by a single candle and the indirect glow of the overhead bulbs in the lamp positioned a few feet to the right of where they sat.

His leg pressed against hers. His body heat seeped into her and her heart made a low and steady throb in her chest that threatened to steal her breath. His hand lay close to hers on the table. If she moved her pinky just slightly, their fingers would be touching, and the temptation to do that was growing by leaps and bounds.

They’d been talking about small things. The project was coming along and he was asking if she still enjoyed the work. Her pulse raced as he moved to pick up his wineglass and his arm brushed against the front of her sedate and plain jacket, briefly skimming across the very side of her breast.

Passion pooled in her lower body. Juices coated her panties, making them sticky and wet. Her legs squeezed together as she sought to put a little pressure on her throbbing clit in order to ease the sweet and demanding ache there.

His shoulder, strong and broad, moved past hers. Another jolt rocketed through her body. She knew this was dangerous. It got harder and harder every single day to abstain from making a fool of herself by hitting on him.

Dante had obviously been impressed with her work, and he also quite obviously had no interest in her in any other way. He bought her meals because she was an unpaid intern working a position that was usually high-paying and he felt some responsibility for that.  That was the only reason she was even in the booth with him right then and she knew it, but her body still wanted her to throw her cards on the table, and maybe herself too.

The image of the two of them naked and making love right there on that table was exhilarating and terrifying. She took a hasty gulp of wine, hoping to drown that inner fire, but it just burned hotter as he shifted slightly in the seat and his lean hip bumped hers.

He was driving her utterly insane.

She asked, “So, you know all about how I grew up. Why don’t you ever talk about your childhood?”

She hoped the conversation would halt the pool of longing. But when he spoke she knew it wouldn’t. He said, “I grew up dirt poor. Not middle-class. Not blue-collar. My dad worked occasional odd jobs when he wasn’t busy gambling and drinking and my mom was a maid in the big houses over on Riverwest Drive.”

She blinked. She hadn’t known that. Oh, she’d known he grew up in poverty, everyone did. But she knew there had never been a mention of his parents because she had researched him quite a lot.

“Where are they now?”

His grin was bitter. “My father died a few years ago. My mom lives on Riverwest Drive. And yes, she has a maid. Who she helps to clean her house. You can’t break some habits, I suppose.”

His grin was disarming and amused. Her heart beat faster. He’d looked after his mother after he had made his money. God, he was almost a saint!

No, not at all a saint.

A sinner.

A wicked and delicious sinner, and she wanted to do a lot of sinning right along with him.

His hip touched hers again, and then his knee brushed against her leg. Her pulse raced along so fast she felt dizzy. She set the wine aside. Her hands shook and she took a long breath and tried to think but all she could see was his long strong fingers on the table, and then, in her mind, those fingers running up and down her body in slow and gentle strokes that would quickly turn into passionate and demanding caresses.

Her chest heaved up and down. She grabbed the edge of the table. Dante asked, “Megan?”

She looked at him. The candle turned his face into a sculpture, all shadows and angles. Wickedly handsome, like the devil himself. Maybe he was the devil. Or a wandering saint lost in his own sins. He’d been named Dante, after all.

“I have to go.”

The words came out on a breathy gasp.

His hand met hers. Fiery bolts traced along her skin. His head dipped toward hers. Her tongue came out and wet her bottom lip, an unconsciously sexy gesture. Her nipples stiffened and her legs squeezed together yet again. She gasped out, “I… I was… I…”

He leaned closer. His cologne teased her nostrils. His hair fell across his forehead. The candles glowed and flickered. Dante spoke, his low warm baritone making her shiver violently with need.

“Jesus Christ, Megan. I want you so badly, and if you keep looking at me like that they are going to be calling the police on us because I am going to make love to you right in this booth, even though I know that is the last thing I should do.”

He wanted her? Her head spun again. She whispered, “You won’t be the only one they arrest then, because—” she couldn’t finish. She didn’t have the experience or the audacity to say the words aloud. Her natural shyness took over, forcing her need, while still great, to lay trapped and wordless behind her teeth.

Dante said, “Come on.” He threw a large bill on the table, gestured at the waiter and then tugged at her hand. Megan climbed out of the booth. Her panties got wetter as they headed out of the building. Her apartment was just beyond, a few doors down, and she said so in a nearly breathless whisper.

They made it in the door and then he pulled her into his arms. Her body sagged against his. The hard strength of his body held hers up. His hands went to her hair and tangled deeply within it. Pins scattered and fell, bouncing along the floor with a bright and muted clatter as her hair tumbled down around her face and shoulders. His fingers dug in and he tugged her face toward his.

Their mouths met and fused. Her pelvis collided with his and she rubbed herself against his growing erection. He thrust toward her, his lean hips bumping hers, and the feel of his hot, hard prick against her body incited her lust.

His hands wandered through her hair, mussing it as his fingers moved along the creamy arch of her neck. The touch sent her senses reeling. His mouth was warm and hot, his tongue clever and searching as he probed the corners of her mouth expertly and slowly.

The kiss took her passion to new heights, heights she had never experienced before. The sensations running through her body were so intense she was frightened by their power.

His hands found the buttons on her blouse. He undid them to expose the simple lace bra below. Her breasts rose high above the half cups, threatening to spill over them. He yanked off her jacket and tossed it to the floor, and then her blouse followed. His hands found the clasp between her breasts, his fingers running along her sternum in a maddening way before he opened the bra to allow her breasts to tumble free and into his heated hands.

His fingers gripped her pale flesh and squeezed gently, then his dark head bent and his mouth went to her nipples. His tongue ran over her areola and then his teeth came together in a gentle bite at her nipple’s stiffened ends.

His tongue swept across those taut peaks, driving her mad with need.  His body arched into hers again. Her hand fumbled at his zipper. He was naked beneath the slacks and his long staff filled her palm with heat and thickness. His skin was silky smooth, with a pulsing muscular strength below that softness.

She made a loose fist and allowed her hand to wander along the shaft, making him gasp. The sight of his head bent to her breasts held her in thrall. She whimpered and arced her own hips toward him again, her body making a silent plea as a low moan broke from her mouth.

They landed on the floor. The rug was rough, and the feel of his body on hers intoxicating. She spread her legs as his hands tugged her button loose and then pulled down the zipper of her slacks, her hips arching upward again to allow him to pull her slacks down. She dug her toes into each shoe to remove it. His body pressed hers deeper into the cheap carpeting and his mouth met hers again while his hands ran along her body, cupping her breasts and stroking down the span of her ribs and waist before wandering across the flat expanse of her belly.

His fingers fluffed the wet and tangled hair at the junction of her thighs. More oils spilled from her pink inner folds to coat her parted labia, and his fingers found those fluids and spread them across her hood, and then onto her clit.

He circled her clit and then massaged it, moving his fingers in a side-to-side motion that drove her insane. Her ass shook and she found his dick again with her hand, stroking and caressing it as it pulsed and throbbed wildly. Her legs parted again. She wanted him inside her; she wanted to feel his thick and throbbing rod deep within her soaked and tight inner flesh.

He matched her gasps of pleasure with his own, and hers grew louder as he slid down along her body, his teeth and tongue moving along her skin.

He parted her lips with his hands and then his tongue found her clit, and she sobbed out a few words as her body lifted so he could get a better angle. His tongue slid deep within her folds, tasting her, and then moved back to her clit. His fingers thrust inside her body, loosening her snug sheath. She grabbed his hair and held on desperately as he took her closer and closer to the brink of an orgasm.