Ruled By The Boss

But he couldn’t stop kissing her or touching her. She was even tastier than in his fantasies. Her mouth was hot and moist and so was his. He kneaded her bottom and she trembled against him.

The air vibrated between them. The erotic promise buried in their kiss made him shudder. The push of her rose-petal lips disoriented him. His tongue traced the form and curve of her mouth. Supped from the delightful swell of her lower lip, the sculpted bow of the upper, explored the textured velvet of her mouth.

His need for her went beyond all reason. He’d never felt anything like this. He should escape while he could, but then she pulled her lips from his and whispered, “Would thee like to come inside, Shakespeare?”

No, no, say no.

But his stupid tongue did not obey. She was pulling him headlong into her fantasy. What he said was, “Forsooth, there is nothing I would enjoy more, Mistress Muse.”

She unlocked the door, flicked on the light, drew him inside the room with her. The door snapped closed behind them.

Blood pumped through his veins at a crazy rhythm. She tipped her head coyly, smiled at him. The shy girl was back, all sweet and demure. Which one was the real Roxie? The exciting temptress who’d just kissed him, or this reticent young woman who looked as if she’d scared herself with her bold moves.

“You can change your mind,” he said. “I should back out. This isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, “stay in character, don’t ruin the spell.” Then she captured his mouth with hers again.

That was all it took. Testosterone surged through his body. His muscles tightened. His hands roved over the lush curve of her body, and he dipped his head to kiss her again. If she was in the mood for acting, then he was eager to comply. Whatever turned her on.

Wait, stop, you can’t do this. Remember the morality clause you signed.

The words battered at the back of his hormone-laced brain, but they sounded very far away, like a cell phone call from a tunnel—his sensible side snuffed out by instinct and molten desire.

This was so unlike him, losing control, losing his head. And yet he couldn’t deny the power of this attraction. It was nonsensical and scary as hell, but it was too real to deny. His muscles ached. His skin burned. His cock throbbed.

If he didn’t get her into bed, he felt as if he just might die from the wanting, the craving, the hunger.

She gently bit his bottom lip and he almost groaned. Not because she’d hurt him, but because her boldness and his stark need blindsided him. Had he ever in his life been this turned on?

Beyond all reason, he had to have her.

WALKING INTO THE COTTAGE was like stepping back in time over four hundred years into a medieval love nest designed to stoke the senses.

Gorgeous velvet and damask tapestries, replicas of the Renaissance era, adorned the walls. The heavy mahogany sofa and chairs were padded and upholstered in rich, dark leather. The colors were equally strong and luxurious—crimson, gold, indigo, salmon. The gas-powered fireplace, complete with a sixteenth-century-style inglenook, had been lit. Apparently it was part of the turning-down service because a basket of goodies wrapped in red cellophane lay on the trestle table in the kitchenette.

Not that Roxie really noticed. She was too hung up on the raw sexual energy rolling off Shakespeare and zapping into her.

She wasn’t sure why she was doing what she was doing. She’d never had a one-night stand or even a weekend fling, but this felt too right to be wrong. She only knew she had to have him. For once in her life, she was going with the flow and would float wherever the current carried her.

Of course, the current rolling off Dougal was more like a tidal wave, but instead of feeling scared as she normally would have, she felt wildly intrigued and uncharacteristically daring.

His hands were all over her body, but more than that, she was all over him. Kisses landed in various places, lips, noses, foreheads, chins. They pulled at each other’s clothing, eager to get naked. She plucked at the buttons of his shirt; his fingers searched for the zipper of her frock. In a clumsy tango of entangled limbs, they stumbled from the sitting room into the bedroom.

They tumbled onto the solid oak, ornately carved four-poster bed sporting an elaborate canopy draped with more opulent fabrics. The linens had been turned down, and foil-wrapped chocolates rested on the pillows along with packets of condoms. Clearly they didn’t call the resort Eros for nothing.

She was on her back, her skirt hiked up to her waist. Her sex was already slick for him.

The subtle sconce lighting cast his face in shadows. He looked savage, primitive. His cheekbones appeared razor sharp, his lips full and foreboding and his chin firm beneath the perfectly trimmed beard. This man was a stranger, but instead of being frightened, she was highly aroused. Her nipples pebbled, womb contracted, every nerve ending taking note of this very masculine male.

He didn’t move, just stood there looking down at her until she suddenly felt self-conscious. She reached up to pull her skirt down over her thighs, but he restrained her.

“No, do not hide, milady.” Dougal shook his head. “Your beauty outshines the sun. My eyes long to feast upon you.”

Roxie’s cheeks heated. She’d never felt particularly attractive. She had a crooked front tooth and her forehead was too short and her skin was too pale, and those extra five pounds she lugged around and couldn’t seem to lose converged into a round little pooch at her belly.

But the look in his eyes made her feel beautiful, and the way he was speaking—as if he actually were Shakespeare—shoved her libido into overdrive.

“There is none so lovely as you,” he murmured, and ran his palm up her calf to her knee.

She pressed her knees together, wanting him desperately, but suddenly afraid she was going to disappoint him.

He paused, held her gaze. “Your hair is the color of ink, so dark and mysterious against your creamy skin. And the way you move—soft as a sigh.” His hand slipped higher, a coaxing finger circling her kneecap.

Every muscle in her body tensed, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning.

His fingers kept tickling, exploring, teasing. She let her knees drop outward, giving him easier access. He made a noise of satisfaction and massaged the back of her knee.

He must have hit some kind of trigger point because a sizzling red-hot wire of glorious sensation shot from her knee straight up into her clenched womb. Reflexively her hips arched up off the mattress.

What a feeling!

A desperate, keening cry slipped past her lips. Tossed like an airplane on a sudden updraft, she fisted her hands, gathering up handfuls of the brocade bedspread. His hand trailed farther up her right leg, his fingers gliding over her left.

He took her by the waist and moved her into the middle of the bed and then he was there beside her, spreading her legs apart, dipping his head, touching her with his lips, his tongue a torturous taskmaster. He inched his mouth from her ankles to her calf to her kneecap, commanding her to moan and squirm and beg.

This was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to her. She had no idea her toes and feet and legs were so sensitive, so desperate for attention. She was electrified.

He finished slipping off her costume, leaving her wearing only her panties and camisole and slowly stroked her bare midriff. His fingers brushed against her navel, enlivening things even more. He went back to kiss her leg, moving up her thigh. One hand was teasing her navel, the other hand rubbing the back of her kneecap.

Roxie was in turmoil. Helplessly she quivered in his arms. “My lord, this is not fair to thee.”

“To what does my lady refer?”

“You are still cloaked while I am laid bare.” She surprised herself by saying, “’Tis time for me to see your naked skin.”

“These damnable boots,” he muttered, and went to work on getting them unlaced. He stood up, kicked them off, and the boots were quickly followed by his pants.

They were left in their underwear, aware of nothing but each other, the sounds of their hungry gasps raspy in the darkened room.

Roxie hadn’t seen very many naked men in real life. Her two boyfriends and that was it. And neither John nor Marcus could compare with the man in front of her. In a word, Dougal Lockhart was beefcake. Big and thick and well, just…amazing.

Looking at him made her want to do things she’d never done before. Bold things. Exciting things. Wild and adventuresome things. A dozen different emotions pelted her at once—titillation, eagerness, curiosity, giddiness, hope. Sensory input overwhelmed her—the sound of Dougal’s ragged breathing, the heat of his flesh against hers, the scrape of his beard as he claimed her mouth in another kiss.

A maelstrom of wicked delight swept her away; a rushing river of passion surging high, increasing the sexual drive that had been building since their encounter on the plane. He tasted rich and tangy like some spicy, exotic dish. She hungered for more. The tender slide of his palms underneath her breasts as he made her camisole disappear became an urgent quest to increase her pleasure.

Roxie’s nipples were rock hard, her breasts swollen and achy. She was dripping for him, juicy and ready.

Compelled by the burning urge to stroke him, to travel the tempting terrain of his body, she ran her fingertips over his belly. She exalted in the way his taut stomach muscles quivered at her touch.

His low groan of pleasure lit her up inside. She tracked her hand lower, finding her way through the coarse curls to glide her palm up the long, hard length of him.

Dougal’s fiery gaze roved over her; his hands sent ribbons of pleasure unfurling throughout her body. “Woman, do you have any idea just how damned sexy you are?”

“Shakespeare.” She breathed, tossed by her tumultuous thoughts. Longing overwhelmed her. She couldn’t resist. He was so damned handsome with that shock of dark brown hair and his tanned skin.

When she reached up, threaded her arms around his neck and went in for another kiss, he smiled and languidly dipped his tongue into her mouth.

She strummed her tongue against his, making herself an active participant. If she was going to go through with this, then she was going to take full responsibility for what happened. Afterward she could tell herself she’d known exactly what she was doing. This time there would be no regrets. Roxie didn’t stop him when his hand drifted to her panties.

“Lift up your hips, Muse,” he commanded.

She obeyed, levering her lower back off the bed as his big hand made short work of the slight material.

He made a guttural sound low in his throat. This was it. No begging off now. He rolled to one side and stripped off his boxer briefs in a motion so practiced she had to wonder how many bedrooms he’d performed it in, how many other women he’d slept with. His erection burgeoned, thick and heavily veined, the velvety head purpled and pulsating.

“Oh, my.” She inhaled audibly.

It was his turn to blush, which did a strange thing to her heart. He was shy with her, this big, commanding man.

She sat up and reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. “No,” he rasped. “If you touch me now I shall be ruined.”

Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to her bare belly and kissed his way to her breasts, heavy and aching. She shivered.

“Pray tell me thy pleasure. It is my honor to do your bidding.”

“Yes,” was all she could manage to say.

He flicked his tongue over one nipple and lightly bit down. Razor-thin shards of pleasure spread throughout her breast. She moaned.

“Does this please thee?” he asked.

“No.”

“No?” He pulled back, looked confused.

“It exalts me.”

He grinned and kept going, his mouth sucking, his tongue teasing, fingers tickling. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. He left her nipples and traveled downward, moving his tongue in a counterclockwise motion. The maneuver produced crazy, erotic ripples in her belly that undulated all the way down into her heated sex.

When his lips reached her throbbing clit, he stopped just short of touching her with his tongue. His breath was hot against her tender flesh, igniting her beyond reason. She arched her hips again, trying to bring his mouth and her clit into contact, but he moved with her, keeping his mouth just out of her reach.

“My lord does see fit to torture me,” she said through gritted teeth.

He chuckled.

“You are unkind.”

“Patience, Muse, patience.”

She didn’t want to hang on. She wanted him to love her with his mouth right this second. Her brain was glazed with lust, her body worked up to a fevered pitch.

Gently he spread her thighs wider and moved his body around so that he knelt between her legs. “Beautiful,” he crooned.

The head of his penis pulsed against her knee as he leaned forward. Roxie’s excitement escalated. She couldn’t stand it. She’d never felt such desperate pressure.

His big fingers gently caressed her clit as his tongue probed her inner folds. Her eyes slid closed as she savored what he was doing to her.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Please don’t stop.”

He captured her clit with his mouth. Never in all her life had she been pleasured this way. It was ecstasy. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted and needed, even before she did.

While he suckled her clit, he slipped a finger into her slick wetness. The walls of her sex sucked at his finger, gripping and kneading him in rhythmic waves, pulling him deeper and deeper into her.

Sound was altered and she existed in a delicious void, simply floating, aware of every physical sensation. “Mmm,” he intoned. “You taste of nectar, hot and sweet.”

She rode his tongue, got lost in it. She hovered on the brink of orgasm, but he would not let her fall over. A steady strumming vibration began deep in her throat and emerged as a wild moan.

“Please,” she begged. “Please.”

“Please what, Muse? You must request what you need.”

“Please, please make me come.”

He let loose then, gave her his all. His tongue danced, his fingers manipulated. She let go of all control and just allowed him to take over. It seemed he was everywhere—over her, around her, in her, outside of her. He was magic. He was amazing. And she was his instrument, tuned and ready to be played.

“More.” She thrashed her head. “Harder.”

He gave it to her just the way she asked for it, pumping his thick finger into her, while his tongue pressed the button of her release. “Come, Muse, come,” he cajoled.

She came. Exploding in great, writhing pleasure. She gave a long, low cry. It flowed from her, the release she’d needed for years.

Shakespeare pulled her to him, cradling her to his chest as her ragged breathing returned to normal. Roxie couldn’t stop a spontaneous grin from spreading across her face.

“Why are you smiling, Muse?” he asked, leaning over to brush her lips with his. Lying here with her calmed him in a way he’d never quite felt before. Roxie was as soothing as a soak in a hot tub, and playing this little Shakespeare game with her had been incredibly erotic.

“Oh, now you’re angling for compliments,” she teased.

“I just wanted to share in the joke.”

“Believe me, big man, that was no joke.”

He reached up to push aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her forehead. “You enjoyed it?” he felt compelled to ask, and then immediately regretted it. He didn’t want her to think she needed to bolster his self-esteem on that score, but the truth was, it had been a very long time since he’d been with a woman and he was a little unsure of himself.

She looked up at him with those wide, vulnerable blue eyes that yanked on his heartstrings. What was it about her that got to him on such a primal level? “That’s the first time…um…er…no one’s ever…”

“Made love to you with their mouth?” he finished for her.

Even in the dimmed lighting, he could see her blush. “Yeah, that.”

A thrill shot through him. Okay, maybe it was a bit chauvinistic, but he liked that he was the first to give her oral sex. “So what do you think? How was it?”

“If it wasn’t for the fact that you got nothing out of the deal, I’d say chuck the whole intercourse thing and stick with oral sex.”

“There are two things about that statement that bother me,” he said. “One, nothing is better than good, old-fashioned sex, that is if you’re doing it right, and two, I got plenty out of it. Knowing that I’m making you feel good charges me up.”

“The male pride thing, huh?”

“Exactly, and besides, we’re just getting started.” He kissed her softly. “By the time this evening is over—”

The sound of his cell phone trilling the specialized ring tone he’d programmed to play when the resort’s security staff called interrupted him. Much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said, slipping out from under her.

Roxie gave a soft noise of disappointment.

“I’ll be right back.” Dougal leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He found his pants on the floor and fished his cell phone from the back pocket. “Hello?”

“Mr. Lockhart, this is Gerry McCracken.”

Dougal had met Gerry and the other members of resort security after he’d arrived, and he’d held a small conference meeting, telling them to be hypervigilant concerning anything suspicious, but he’d stopped short of relating the details about a possible saboteur. Even though Taylor put her employees through a rigorous background check, Dougal was by nature a suspicious man. It took a lot for him to trust people, even those he’d known a long time.

And yet, within hours after meeting her, you’ve bedded Roxanne Stanley.

“What’s up?” he asked Gerry, waving to Roxie as he padded out of the bedroom, cell phone pressed to his ear.

She waved back.

“I smell rotten fish in Denmark,” Gerry said.

Dougal stepped into the sitting area, shutting the bedroom door behind him. His gut clenched, knowing from the sound of Gerry’s voice that he was going to confirm what Dougal suspected. “What did you find out?”

“I was investigatin’ why the spotlight fell, and I noticed all the nuts were missin’ from the mountin’ bolts. I thought you might wanna come see for yourself.”

Alarm raced up Dougal’s spine. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’M SORRY,” DOUGAL SAID as he wrestled into his clothes. “I have to go.”

“What’s wrong?” Roxie sat up in bed, her legs curled underneath her, the sheet drawn up to cover her nakedness. She felt suddenly shy in spite of what he’d just done to her with his wicked mouth and tongue.

“Um…tour-guide emergency.” An odd look passed over his face and as soon as he said it, she knew he was lying.

“What kind of emergency does a tour guide have in the middle of the night?” she asked, insecurity grabbing hold of her.

“You know…disgruntled guests.” He sat on the edge of the bed, jammed his feet into his boots and began lacing them up.

“Can’t the concierge handle it?” Why was she pushing this? If the man wanted to leave, she should let him leave. That was the logical conclusion to a one night stand. If she was going to play the game, she had to accept the rules. Except she’d gotten off and he hadn’t. What guy left before he’d claimed his orgasm?

“I’m afraid not.” He got up. “I don’t want you to think I’m running out on you.”

“But you are.”

“Yeah, but it’s got nothing to do with you. Duty calls.”

Right. She ducked her head. She shouldn’t have any expectations from this man. Easy come, easy go. Pun intended.

He leaned over the bed, cupped his palm under her chin, and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“You and I need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine.” She waved, tried to ignore the gentle pressure on her chin and how good it felt to be touched by him. “Go, do your thing.”

“I wouldn’t be leaving if this wasn’t important.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. Listen…” He inhaled, met her gaze. “I don’t want you to think I go around doing this sort of thing. I don’t. I’m not a casual guy. Not about my work, not about my relationships, certainly not about sex.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I want to explain myself to you, dammit,” he snapped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to irritate.”

“You didn’t irritate me. I just wanted you to understand.” His voice and expression softened. “I’m not a casual guy. I don’t get swept away by my passion.”

“And yet you did.”

“And yet I did,” he echoed.

Roxie raised her palms as a strange emotion she couldn’t identify slithered through her. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Whoa.”

“Listen,” they said in unison and then laughed.

“You first.” He nodded.

“I came on this trip to let loose, let go, explore my…um…” Roxie hesitated. She wasn’t completely lying. Sure her boss had sent her to spy on Eros, but she had her own agenda, as well. She wanted to make up for lost time, let her hair down, have some fun, find out what she’d been missing.

“Sexuality.”

“Yeah, that. I’ve been sheltered and I figured it was time I saw what the world has to offer.”

He nodded. “That’s the reason everyone comes to an Eros resort.”

They stared in each other’s eyes.

“What we just did,” he went on, “well, I violated all the rules. There’s no excuse for it. I crossed the line. But here’s the funny thing—I’m a big stickler for the rules. I don’t break them and yet one kiss from you and my brain short-circuited.”

“What rules?” she whispered, thrilling to his words. She’d never driven a man to break the rules before and it was a heady rush.

“It’s in my contract. A morality clause. No fraternizing with the guests.”

“We just fraternized,” she pointed out.

“Big-time.”

“So what does this mean?”

“I can’t, I shouldn’t…this needs to…”

“Stop?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

Disappointment arrowed through her. She’d known being with Dougal was too good to be true. So much for her wild vacation fling.

“But I don’t want it to stop,” he murmured.

“What are you saying?” She lowered her voice, both intrigued and titillated.

“We shouldn’t take this any further.”

“No.” She nodded as if she meant yes.

Dougal’s hand was still on her chin, his eyes locked on hers. “But this chemistry between us…” He shook his head. “Wow.”

“Wow,” she echoed.

“If it was another time, another place, we’d owe it to ourselves to fully explore it.”

“We would.”

“It might even have been the best sex of our lives.”

“I have no doubt.” The way he looked at her sent blood pumping hot and thick straight to her groin.

“I really do have to go now,” he said. “Tomorrow on the tour—”

“Got it. Act like nothing happened.”

7

DOUGAL COULDN’T BELIEVE what he’d just done. This was so unlike him. He wasn’t a rebel, no rule breaker, and yet the thought of an illicit affair with Roxie excited him as nothing ever had.

What was it about her that turned him inside out? It was more than just that rich ebony hair and those impossibly blue eyes. More than just her porcelain skin and lush, curvy body. It was in the way she looked at him, full of trust and admiration. She made him feel strong and honorable and heroic, and he had an overwhelming urge to live up to all of her expectations.

How had this happened? What did it mean? Startled, he stepped back from the bed. “Sleep well,” he mumbled.