Private Confessions

Don’t look at his eyes…

Trisha quickly glanced to her boss’s hair – those dark, wavy curls that she’d threaded her fingers through on a number of imaginary occasions.

Hair, bad.

She shot her gaze down to his chest.

Oh no, not the chest.

His ear. She could focus on his ear, she thought, before remembering she’d nibbled on it in cyberspace last Tuesday.

As her eyes scanned Logan’s fine features like a pinball darting from one cushioned side to another, she realised she was sinking fast with no net.

She focused on the bronze Remington statue on the credenza behind him. How fitting. A team of wild horses. ’Cause it would take a team of wild horses to jolt the lust from my brain.

LORI BORRILL,

an oregon native, moved to the bay Area just out of high school and has been a transplant californian ever since. Her weekdays are spent at the insurance company where she’s been employed for over twenty years, and she credits her writing career to the unending help and support she receives from her husband and real-life hero. When not sitting in front of a computer, she can usually be found at the baseball fields playing proud parent to their son. She’d love to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.LoriBorrill.com.

Dear Reader,

That you’re holding this book in your hand is a dream come true for me. It’s my very first published novel, and hopefully the first of many more to come.

It’s a pleasure to be able to share the story of Trisha and Logan. The idea came to me as I was reading a piece about an anonymous cybersex affair. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if a person unwittingly spilled their darkest fantasies to someone they ended up knowing. Someone horrible, like a next-door neighbour, or worse – their boss!

Needless to say, I’d barely dropped the article on the coffee table before the plot for Private Confessions had completely unfolded in my mind, and I have to say, writing it was truly a blast.

I hope you enjoy the drama, the surprises, the laughs and yes, the romance. Please drop me a note and tell me what you think of it.

Happy reading!

Lori Borrill

PRIVATE CONFESSIONS

BY

LORI BORRILL

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Leeanne Kenedy, Samantha Hunter and

Kira Bazzel, writers whose wisdom and

friendship are the foundation on which I write.

To Trisha for supporting me from that first day I

skipped into the office and declared,

“I’m writing a romance novel!”

And for Al and Tommy,

you believed in me from the start, and offered

the support I needed to make this dream come

true. I love you more than words can say.

1

“YOU’RE WEARING a navy-blue skirt. It’s tasteful. The hem stops just above the knee. Very professional on the outside, but I know you’re naked underneath. You enjoy the silky feel of the fabric against your skin, don’t you, Scorpio?”

Trisha Bain gulped as she read the words on her computer screen.

“I do,” she typed, then hit Send.

“You step into my office and close the door behind you. Those gorgeous lips curve into a smile that makes everything else disappear. You lean against the door and look at me with those big blue eyes, eyes that reveal your innermost thoughts. Today, your eyes tell me you want me.

“Do you want me, Scorpio?”

“Yes,” she typed. Oh, yes.

“I want you, too, baby. I’ve always wanted you.”

She shivered.

“I pat my hand on the desk and you stroll over, swaying those hips that have been driving me crazy since the day we met. You’re taking your time, teasing me, making me wait.

“You prop up on my desk and lift your feet to the arms of my chair, spreading those long, sexy legs for me. So many times, I’ve wanted to reach out and touch them. Can I touch them, Scorpio?”

“Please,” she typed.

“I place my hands on your ankles and slide my fingers up to your thighs. Your skin is smooth. I always knew it would be. I’ve been waiting for you. All day, I’ve been waiting for our meeting, watching the hours tick by. I can feel you trembling. You’ve been waiting, too, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she typed, noticing how even the word looked breathy on the screen.

“I brush my fingers through your curls and groan when I feel the heat between your legs. You’re wet. You’ve been thinking about me. Your scent is driving me to the edge and I can’t resist a taste.”

Oh, my.

“I slide my tongue over you and glide it around in circles. You like that, don’t you, Scorpio?”

A bead of sweat moistened her upper lip and she squirmed as the sensation tingled in her most sensitive spot.

“Yes,” she typed.

“You’re so slick, so ready. Your breath goes heavy and you tilt your head back, thrusting your breasts in the air. I raise my eyes and watch them as they rise and fall with each breath you take, slowly at first then faster as the pressure builds.

“Your nipples pierce your shirt and their hardness fills me with need. You’re about to slide over the edge. You want to go over, don’t you?”

Trisha’s hands trembled. Her toes curled inside her fuzzy blue slippers. Pisces was coming on strong tonight, and after a busy day at the agency, she could use the extra heat.

With fingers stiff and shaken, she forced them to the keyboard and typed, “Yes.”

“It’s better if I tease you.”

Oh, no, don’t tease.

“My tongue is barely touching you. You arch your back and pull yourself toward me, whimpering, begging for more. You try to get closer, but I dig my fingers in your thighs and hold you steady, making you wait. Your sex is so plump, so ready. You ache for me to move to that spot, that special place I know so well. Through long, ragged breaths, I hear you whisper, ‘Please.’ You want that spot, don’t you?”

“Please,” she typed, barely able to move her fingers over the keyboard. She swallowed hard, her body pulsed. She ached to be touched, but she knew Pisces47 was far from the end.

“Here’s the spot, sweetheart, the spot that sends you over. My tongue slides along it with light, quick strokes, then harder, faster, until you burst in my mouth. You want to scream, but you’ve got to be quiet. People might hear. You bite your lip and hold your groan as the climax takes you.

“You quiver against my tongue. It feels so good, baby. I’m so hard for you. Every cell in my body cries to get inside, now, while you’re still clamped tight. I need to take you in my arms, feel those sexy breasts against my chest and plunge inside until you beg for me to come.”

Trisha’s mouth went dry. She shifted in her seat, trying to relieve the pressure that swelled between her thighs. She wanted to reach down and relieve the throbbing, but it wasn’t time. She needed Pisces inside.

“Can I take you now, Scorpio?”

With lightning-quick strokes, she typed, “Yes.”

“I rise from my chair. You’re open for me, so beautiful. Your eyes are heavy and sated, but the bulge between my legs starts the climb all over again.”

She clasped her hands to the chair and held the breath in her lungs, unable to move until she saw what happened next.

“I unzip my trousers and you gasp at my length.”

She gasped.

“I hold it at your entrance, brushing the tip against you, teasing you, swelling your already throbbing clit. You bite down on your lip some more and wait as your eyes plead for me to enter. You’re ready for me, aren’t you, Scorpio?”

She raised her hands to the keyboard. “Please,” she typed, amazed by the quickness of her fingers.

“I slide my hands up under your skirt and place them on your hips, holding you firmly. My hands are hot to the touch. You feel me probing at your entrance and your breath comes out in pants. You’re waiting, aching for the moment when I drive my shaft inside.” She dropped her hands from the keyboard and clasped them to the chair, digging her fingers into the rough woven fabric of the cushion. It was almost time, the pressure was nearly unbearable.

“In one quick stroke, I thrust inside and you clamp your jaw shut, holding the groan in your throat.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and closed her eyes to seal the image in her mind. It was time to give Pisces full control. Sliding a hand between her thighs, she began a slow stroke.

“I’m big, harder than I’ve ever been before, and you’re still tight from the climax. Your eyes roll back and close as a quick breath escapes your chest. Your smile tells me you like it. You need more. We’ve both wanted this for so long.”

Forever, she thought as she swept her finger between her folds.

“I clasp my hands to your spine and push deeper while I nibble at your neck. You’re salty from sweat. You smell like lavender. It’s turning me on and I have to go deeper.”

Yes.

“I fill you in one final thrust. You’re so tight and slick. Your groan tells me I’ve found that spot and I begin to stroke as another climax builds.”

Trisha gulped in air as she formed an image from the words on the screen. The room was hot, her breath shortened as she neared the edge of climax.

“My heart’s beating fast. You place your hands on my chest. It’s hard, damp and hot. You feel me growing inside. I’m about to lose control, Scorpio. You feel good, baby, and I need it all. I need to feel every inch of your body against mine. I thrust deeper and sink my face in the warm curve of your neck. And while I’m stroking inside you, you tell me your dreams.”

My dreams?

“What are your dreams, Scorpio?”

Trisha stared at the words on the screen. She was flustered, eager and ready for the climax, and Pisces47 wanted to know her dreams?

No man had ever asked her a question like that. None had ever cared, but then again, she’d never been so selective about a partner in the past.

Even if this was just a cyberpartner.

LoveSigns.com had promised something different in cybersex. They used astrology to match partners, which had brought Scorpio63 and Pisces47 together in the first place. According to their birthdates, she and her cybermate were perfect sex partners.

And based on how she felt right now, she had to give them a grateful nod.

Pisces47 was good.

Really good.

The words repeated on the screen.

“What are your dreams, Scorpio?”

She lifted a hand to the keyboard. “I want,” she typed, then clicked Send, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“Scorpio, there isn’t much time. I’m aching for release. I’m going, honey. I need it now. Tell me your dreams, baby. I want to know your dreams.”

Oh, jeez.

“I want love,” she typed and sent.

“Then love is what I’ll give you, sweetheart. A fantasy love that only we can share.

“I whisper the words in your ear as we near the edge. I’m hard, Scorpio, so hard. I’m trying to hold on, trying to last longer, but you’re so warm and tight. I can’t look at your beauty without losing control. I have to close my eyes, but your flowery scent is driving me closer. Come with me. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she typed.

“Your body clamps hard around me, fisting my shaft in another searing climax. You begin to cry out, but we have to be quiet. I close my mouth over yours and drink in your cries as I lose myself inside you.”

And with that, she lost control. Her legs stiffened, her back coiled and a soft cry escaped her throat. The climax ripped through her, constricting every muscle from her jaw to her toes, pulsing between her legs, until the soft wave crashed over in soothing warmth.

“You collapse in my arms. Your skin is damp and those heavenly breasts are pressed against my chest. I reach down and take a bite through your shirt. Your dark, silky hair hangs down against my desk. I’m holding you in my arms, admiring the sleepy, sated smile on your face. You’re so beautiful, Scorpio. I press my lips between the folds of your blouse and taste the sweet skin between your breasts. I can feel your heart beating wildly against my lips, then it slows as we rest in each other’s arms.”

Oh, yeah.

There was a long pause. Trisha’s limp hands could barely make contact with the keyboard, and she wondered if Pisces47 felt the same way. She waited, allowing her heartbeat to slow when a message finally popped up on the screen.

“How do you feel, Scorpio?”

Her weakened fingers could only type, “Good.”

“Me, too.”

There was another long pause as Trisha tried to recover. She needed to return something, anything other than a few shaky pleas.

“I…” she typed, letting him know she’d be answering in a moment.

“No, Scorpio. Tonight’s for you. Crawl into bed. Curl up and think of me. Think of your dreams as you rest in peaceful sleep.”

She stared at the screen, the session still echoing through her mind.

“I will,” she typed.

“Good night, Scorpio. And remember, honey, whenever you need me I’m just a click away.”

Unable to move, she studied the words while the message popped up saying Pisces47 had logged off. She glanced around her bedroom suddenly realizing she had no idea what time it was. It had been light when they began tonight’s chat, but the sun had gone down somewhere during the first climax and now the room was dark, lit only by the white screen of the chat room.

She shook herself and pressed the keys to download the chat. She’d saved all of Pisces47’s chats. They were too good to toss into cyberspace, so she held them as memories of the man on the other end of the line.

Whoever he was.

Trisha’s brain told her he was probably either a pudgy old married man, or a sex-starved, geeky college kid. But in her fantasies, she knew exactly who he was.

Logan Moore.

Logan had been the object of her fantasies since she’d taken her job at the Moore Agency two years ago. And for two years he’d ruined her for every man that crossed her path. In Trisha’s mind, no one could stand up to Logan Moore and his dark, midnight eyes. She’d often wondered what secrets he kept in those bottomless pools.

But she’d never be the one to find out. Not only was Logan her boss, but rumor had it, the man went through women like a long-haul trucker went through diesel fuel. He was a consummate playboy with a preference toward wealthy supermodels and aspiring actresses. At least, that was the general consensus around the office, and if true, Trisha Bain was clearly out of the running.

For more than a year she’d tried to ignore her infatuation with Logan. She’d continued dating, hoping somewhere along the line Mr. Right would come along and help her forget the tall, chiseled man who filled her dreams. But she’d quickly discovered the effort was pointless. No man would be a worthy substitute for Logan Moore.

At least, not in the flesh.

That was when she happened upon LoveSigns.com and found the perfect solution. She could meet the ideal partner and carry out her sexual fantasies online, with no physical contact to remind her that the man feeding them to her was someone other than Logan Moore. She could put one man’s words with another man’s image and come up with the ideal mate.

For the time being.

Of course, she knew some day she’d have to move on and doing so would probably mean quitting her job. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life clinging to something that didn’t really exist. And she had no intention of doing so.

Her fantasies about Logan and her account with LoveSigns.com would only take her through the next few months, when she completed the ad campaign that would be the jewel on her résumé to help her land a high-paying job somewhere else.

Just a few months of fantasies, and Trisha Bain would forget about Logan Moore and move on with her life.

At least, that was the plan.

“READY FOR THE big meeting?”

Trisha glanced up from her desk to see her friend, Adrienne, peeking through the doorway of her office.

“Not really,” she replied. The pen she held jittered in her shaky hand. Not wanting to reveal her nerves, she dropped it on the desk and folded her hands in her lap. “Devon just called. His flight’s delayed and he won’t be back in time. It’ll just be me and Logan.”

The perky smile on Adrienne’s face sobered as she took a step into the room. “So? This is your campaign, what do you need Devon for?”

Devon made a threesome. Without him, she’d be left alone with Logan, in his office, causing the line between reality and her fantasies to become dangerously thin.

She squeezed her hands together, digging her fingers into the backs of her knuckles. “I just…” she started, not sure how to explain, and based on Adrienne’s knowing expression, she wasn’t going to have to.

Adrienne reached back and closed the door. “This is about Cyber Man.”

Trisha still didn’t understand the complete lapse of judgment that had caused her to confess her twice-weekly chats to Adrienne. Okay, so Adrienne had been her best friend since their days at U.C. Berkeley. If she were to confess to anyone, it would be her. But given the fact that Adrienne had been against the idea from the start, she wasn’t appreciating that I-told-you-so look on her face right now.

Trisha wanted sympathy, not a lecture.

She chose not to respond. Instead, she just frowned and moved her now aching hands from her lap and tucked them under her thighs.

Adrienne took a chair in front of the desk. She was making herself comfortable. She was apparently staying.

Lecture time.

“I told you that was a bad idea.”

So was telling Adrienne about Cyber Man.

Adrienne stared at her for what seemed like an excruciatingly long moment, then finally smiled. “Why don’t you just ask Logan out?”

What was better, the lecture or complete stupidity?

She scowled, letting Adrienne know she’d just crossed over to the latter.

“Gee, let’s see,” Trisha said, hoping to drag out the sarcasm in her tone. “I’m only five-foot-six, which makes me three inches too short for Logan Moore.”

Trisha’s height brought her eye level to his iron-pumped chest, but the six-foot-three Logan preferred women he didn’t have to bend for.

“My breasts are real,” she continued. “I’ve never been on a runway, I’ve never auditioned for Baywatch and I’m not a peroxide blonde.” She released her hands from under her lap and folded them across her chest. “How many strikes is that against me?”

Adrienne scoffed. “Oh, you think you know everything. The guy dated a few bimbos after his divorce and you think you’ve nailed his love life. Trust me. Logan prefers women with brains.”

“Sure. That Carmella Beal had quite the pair of brains. What was that she said at the awards banquet?” Trisha fluttered her eyelashes and took on a breathy tone. “‘I just love the beach. It’s so close to the ocean.’” Through Adrienne’s giggles, she added, “Someone should embroider that one on a pillow.”

“Okay, so Carmella was pretty dim, but if you’ve noticed, we haven’t seen her since.”

Trisha snorted. “She’s no doubt teaching a class in physics at MIT.”

“Oh, now you’re just being mean.”

“I am not. Believe me. Any woman who can stand erect with three-inch stilettos and double-D breasts deserves a degree in engineering.”

“Logan was mortified.”

“He should have been. She made him look like a complete ass.” She huffed and shook her head. “He’s so much better than that.”

“Of course he is. We all know that was just a phase he went through after the divorce.”

“Have you ever seen him with anyone normal?”

“No one has seen him with anyone at all in the last six months. I think he’s given up on women.”

“Well, there you have it. He gathered his jacks and went home.” She thought for a moment and sighed. “No, I’m not going to risk my reputation by chasing after the boss. Sure, maybe if I thought he was interested, but Ade, the man’s never so much as winked. I can’t jeopardize our relationship by making a pass that’s not wanted. It’s not worth it.”

She picked up her pen and resumed jotting down notes for the meeting. Despite Adrienne’s silly notions about her and Logan, the woman had managed to calm her nerves for the moment.

“Bill thinks you two are perfect for each other.”

A stab of fear stopped Trisha’s heart. “You promised me you wouldn’t breathe a word of this to Bill.”

Adrienne had been dating Bill Jeffries, Logan’s Vice President of Products and best friend, for nearly four months. Though Trisha had early reservations about the office romance, she had to admit, the two were cute as kittens together. They both had sandy-blond hair, dark eyes and matching sets of dimples that made them look as if they were born to be together. And the fact that they were still giddy lovers after four months left Trisha feeling as though they might be the real deal.

But no matter how well Adrienne’s office romance was going, Trisha didn’t share that same freedom when it came to Logan. Adrienne didn’t report to Bill, which made them simply coworkers. Trisha, on the other hand, had her eyes set on her boss and though there wasn’t a policy against office romance, dating a direct superior definitely treaded on shaky ground.

Adrienne breathed a sigh of frustration and sank back in her seat. “I’ve told you a dozen times, Logan and Cyber Man are between you and me.”

“I mean it, Ade. A word of this gets to Logan and I’m sending an e-mail to everyone in the office telling them your real name.”

Though Adrienne hadn’t shed her Birkenstocks and ankle-length skirts, there were two things about her hippie, Free Age upbringing she didn’t want spread around the office. One was her parents’ radical political views, which included their notion that the Moore Agency was in the business of brainwashing the public to further corporate greed.

The second was her real name, Hummingbird Eucalyptus, after her mother’s second-favorite bird and tree. Her older sister, Robin Willow, had been given the first choice, leaving Adrienne with a name she’d quickly found ridiculous once she’d graduated from her co-op schools and entered the real world.

Trisha rarely threatened Adrienne with their secrets, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I swear, Bill came up with the idea on his own.”

Trisha’s pulse resumed ever so slightly. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I agree, but that it’s up to you and Logan. I’ve done the matchmaker thing before and I swore I’d never do it again.” She crossed a hand over her chest. “Honest to God.”

Trisha studied her friend, looking for a twitch, a blink or a flinch that would tell her Adrienne was lying.

Nothing.

Her breathing resumed. “Thank you.”

“Listen, if you aren’t going to go for Logan, you need to move on with your love life. You can have practically any man you want. Why you’re talking dirty on the Internet with this stranger is beyond me. You have to know he’s a pimply teenaged kid.”