In Bed With Her Tall, Sexy Handsome Boss: All Night with the Boss / The Boss's Wife for a Week / My Tall Dark Greek Boss

She really hoped she hadn’t got some form of selective amnesia and was unable to remember what should have been the most awesome sex of her life. She wriggled a little experimentally. While her body ached, it wasn’t the kind of ache you got after a night of passionate love-making. And he was lying on top of the bed fully clothed. No, somehow she’d got to his place and he’d looked after her. She remembered her dream, and knew him helping her drink had been real. Guilty pleasure swamped her. She shouldn’t be here, this shouldn’t have happened, and yet she was so pleased it had. She glanced around the room again with more interest now she knew it was his. There wasn’t a lot to make it personal—just the snowboard hinting at athletic pastimes and boxes signalling the recent return from his time overseas. The walls were painted a warm creamy colour and she wondered what the rest of the place was like.

Then she looked under the bedclothes and made a shocking discovery.

‘What am I wearing?’ she screeched.

Rory jerked awake. ‘What?’

She watched as alertness sprang into his features and repeated the question.

He frowned as her words sank in. ‘Oh,’ he mumbled. Then as she watched, amazed, an embarrassed flush mounted in his cheeks. ‘You were h-h-hot and sweating.’ He was actually stammering. He cleared his throat. ‘You said the cotton was too rough on your skin. You were aching. You were complaining about the sheets too.’

‘I what?’ Oh, dear God. She was mortified. She remembered feeling hot and uncomfortable. She must have been feverish. What else had she been muttering while in that delirium? She masked her embarrassment with aggression. ‘So what—you just happen to have a selection of silk negligees for whoever comes to stay? I assume this is your, your…’

‘Spare bedroom. Yes.’ He looked directly at her. The flush had receded. ‘And, no, I went and bought it especially for you. In fact—’ his eyes gleamed ‘—I bought two.’

Her mouth hung open for a second before she remembered herself and snapped it shut. She said nothing, absorbing the fact that she was wearing nothing, nothing, other than a simple, long silk negligee. No lace, no knickers. ‘Did I get changed myself?’

He started to colour again and looked away.

‘I didn’t think so,’ she muttered darkly. Then a coughing fit took over.

‘Hey, you’re OK here.’ His low comment did nothing to soothe her.

She sat up sharply, knowing damn well she wasn’t, and the room spun horribly. She wasn’t OK and it wasn’t the flu bugging her.

‘Take it easy,’ he said, pushing her back down with a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ve been very sick and you haven’t eaten in days.’ His hand lingered. His warm fingers on her bare skin were heavenly. She realised she was hungry. And not just for food.

‘What time is it?’ she asked abruptly.

He checked his watch. ‘Seven p.m. Saturday.’

‘You mean Friday.’

‘No, I mean Saturday. You’ve been out of it for over twenty-four hours. You’ve had me damn worried. But I think half of it was just exhaustion. Once the fever broke, you slept like a child.’

Saturday.

‘You want to use the phone at all? Will anyone be wondering where you are?’

She ignored the question in his eyes and simply shook her head. No, if friends called they’d probably think she was out with someone else.

He seemed to have forgotten his hand still rested on her shoulder, his thumb smoothing over her skin. The touch did crazy things to her insides. She shivered and this time it wasn’t the fever causing it.

He frowned. ‘You lie still and just relax. I’m going to get some food.’

He slid off the bed and she felt sorry as the warmth and weight of him disappeared. She cringed at the hazy memory of begging him to stay with her. What else had she let slip? But she couldn’t stop watching him leave the room, his butt shown off beautifully in the low-slung jeans.

She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling. She was in trouble here. Big trouble. The question was, did she get up and try to go home now, or did she just give in and let the inevitable happen? She tried sitting up again and slumped back in a hurry. The inevitable. No contest.

He reappeared twenty minutes later bearing a tray that, she had to admit, smelt heavenly.

This time, she discovered, she was able to sit up no problem at all. She propped the pillow up behind her. He carefully placed the tray across her knees and smiled. Her heart thumped slowly and she tried to ignore the tenderness in his actions.

‘This is great.’ She gazed in pleasure on the laden tray before her. In the centre was a bowl of rich red soup accompanied by a plate of fingers of buttered toast. A smaller bowl of freshly cut fruit was also on the tray; it included, of all things, raspberries. She was in heaven. She picked up the glass of juice on the side and tasted. Pineapple. How did this guy know all her favourites? The question must have been written all over her face.

‘You were begging for it last night.’ He grinned. ‘I had to go to the twenty-four-hour shop to get it.’

‘Thank you.’ She put the glass down, having drained half of it. She felt bad for having reacted so ungratefully before. ‘I’ve put you to a lot of trouble.’

‘No trouble,’ he said easily. ‘Eat your soup—roasted red pepper.’

She didn’t need to be told twice. But while she was hungry, she wasn’t hungry for a huge amount of anything much and this platter was exactly what she would have chosen herself. ‘What about you?’ she asked between mouthfuls.

‘I ate earlier,’ he replied, settling down on the end of the bed.

She couldn’t manage to eat it all, but when she finally sat back she felt a million times better. He smiled at her. She wished he wouldn’t; every time he did her resolve disappeared another inch—make that mile.

‘Now you need these.’ He shook a pill bottle at her.

She frowned.

‘Antibiotics,’ he explained. ‘You have a chest infection as well as the flu. The doctor prescribed these to clear it. So far you’ve been good about taking them.’

‘Doctor? What doctor?’

He grinned at her. ‘One of my mates is a GP. He came round after work yesterday and gave you the once-over.’

That explained the man from the Spanish Inquisition.

‘You were that worried about me?’ She took the dose and washed it down with the remainder of the pineapple juice.

‘I was.’ He smiled, the warmth lightening the atmosphere. ‘Want to stretch your legs?’

She did. She definitely did—stretch them all the way home, or so she ought.

‘Do you have something that I can put over the top of…um…’ Her voice trailed away and she gestured towards her breast with her hand. She saw the flare in his eyes as he followed the movement of her hands and hurriedly put her arms in front of her breasts to try to hide the all too pleasurable reaction there.

‘There was a matching robe.’ He stood and went to the chest of drawers, pulling a long cream-coloured silk robe off the top. ‘I’ll see you in the lounge. You can’t get lost.’ And he swiftly exited the room.

Bit late for modesty now, she thought ruefully as she swung her legs out of the bed. Still, who was she to be concerned about modesty? If she remembered right she was the one who had been on the desk, begging him to screw her in the middle of the office when people had been due back any minute. Had she no shame? Nope, she realised. Not when it came to Rory.

She sat on the bed for a few seconds, making sure she had her strength together before standing. She was still weak and, underneath it all, still tired. But she didn’t want to be lying in bed with Rory lounging on the end of it. That was just too much in the way of temptation.

She pulled the robe around her and glanced in the mirror hanging on the far wall. Her pallor surprised her. And her hair was a mess. She grimaced. What she really needed was a shower. Leaving the room, she discovered Rory was right; she couldn’t get lost. Following the sounds of activity, she passed another door—open, showing the bathroom—and another closed; she guessed it must be his bedroom. She quelled the desire to open it and take a peek.

He was in the kitchen, holding two large towels in his hand. The guy really was a mind-reader. ‘Want to have a shower? You’ll feel better.’

She stopped in front of him and stared. He really did look incredible in those close-fitting jeans and tee shirt. His chest just about took up all her vision, it was so broad. Two towels—one each? Where had her self-control gone?

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky. Her body was starting to feel all sensitive again and this time it wasn’t because of the fever.

Slowly he held them out to her, his eyes fixed on hers. Her heart thudded faster. She reached out and took them and looked away from him in a hurry. She had to get out of here or there would be no stopping things. ‘I should go home after. Could you give me a lift?’

‘You’re not going home tonight.’

She’d known he was going to say that. She was also aware she wasn’t going to fight him. Much. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s getting late. You’re still weak. That flat of yours is freezing.’ He’d obviously been storing up a few reasons.

‘I forgot to switch on the radiator,’ she broke in.

‘You’re staying here.’ They stared at each other. His mouth curved into a wry smile and his eyes twinkled. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be quite safe.’

Yeah, right. It wasn’t him she was worried about. It was her own weak, needy self.

‘I’ll get that other negligee for you,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll leave it in your room. I grabbed your toiletries bag from your flat; hopefully it has everything you need in it. It’s in the bathroom. I didn’t want to pry so I got a toothbrush and comb from the shop just in case.’

‘Gee, you’ve thought of everything,’ she said sarcastically, still fidgeting with the belt on the robe. ‘Do you do this often?’

He laughed, that open, warm sound that had had her melting on the night she’d first met him. ‘No. Pretty much everything with you is a first.’

She wondered what he meant by that.

She headed for the bathroom pronto.

Just as he’d said, her toiletries bag sat on the vanity. She peered inside it. She always had it pretty well packed—just in case she was hit by a sudden urge to take a weekend mini-break. Just beneath her body spray rested her pill packet. She picked it up. She didn’t take them for contraceptive purposes, having not been involved with anyone since Grant. The little plastic bubble marked Saturday was full. It was still Saturday. She popped it from the foil and quickly swallowed it. A girl could never be too careful.

Stepping into the shower she turned the taps on hot. The pressure was marvellous and she couldn’t resist standing there for long moments letting the water pound on her head and body. It felt so good to get rid of the sweat. She tried not to think about him. Tried to ignore the desire swirling in her belly. It was like trying to stop a tidal wave with a flannel. They were alone. The outside world had disappeared at the door. Just her and Rory. Out of the office and in his home. And she knew and she wanted it to be just so, just for now. She reached for the shower gel—the packaging advertised its therapeutic powers—‘invigorate’. She flipped the lid and caught a whiff of the lemony citrus flavour that she associated with him. The gel lacked the underlying masculine tang that was pure Rory but it was close enough. She closed her eyes as she washed indulging in the feeling she was being enveloped by his presence.

He knocked softly on the door as she towelled dry. ‘Lissa, are you OK?’

‘Fine, I’ll be out in a tick.’

Clad in the second negligee—the same as the first only in a pretty pastel blue—and the robe, she padded back out to the lounge. The flat was marvellously warm. Even her feet, which were usually like blocks of ice, were cosy despite being bare.

He knelt, fiddling with the gas fire. ‘Sorry,’ he said, obviously hearing her arrival. ‘You were a while and I was worried maybe you’d collapsed in the shower or something.’

‘No.’ She grinned. ‘It’s a girl thing. We take our time in the shower. You guys are all the same. Turn it on, jump in, jump out, get dressed without drying properly and it’s all over.’

‘Really?’ He raised his brows. ‘And how do you know so much about it?’

‘Flatmates arguing over the power bill.’ She smiled teasingly and pulled the robe tighter. She had to admit she loved the silky feel against her skin. Smooth and sensual. Its simple design clung to her; she liked the soft rustle as she moved. She knew it had probably been outrageously expensive. It made her feel sexy. She couldn’t help but have sex on her mind. She realised she’d been staring at his jeans-clad thighs. The denim showed off their strong, muscular outline better than his suit trousers. She looked up with a start. She was so aware of him.

‘Could I get that comb? I didn’t have one in my bag.’ Her voice wobbled a bit.

‘Sure. I’ll go get it.’

She expelled the pent-up air from her lungs as he left the room briefly. But her blood started zinging again the instant he returned, comb in hand. Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him. The sensation from that slightest of touches was enough to send a tremble through her. In the hour and a half since she’d woken up her body’s awareness of him had been growing stronger and stronger. Now just the sight of him and the tiniest touch had her craving more. Her breathing shallowed. It was madness to have agreed to stay. But it was a madness she couldn’t stop.

She sat on the sofa and tried to comb her hair. After just a few seconds she felt exhausted from holding her arms up. It was pathetic. He seemed to know. She wondered if he knew everything, if he knew how turned on she was feeling, that his nearness drove her crazy. That he was so damn sexy that she just wanted to reach out and plant her mouth on his. Hard.

‘Here, let me,’ he said in a low tone. He took the comb from her nerveless hand. She turned away from him so she sat sideways on the sofa. He tucked the towel around her shoulders and carefully lifted her hair over it. With long, sure strokes he worked the comb through. The regular rhythm was soothing. Detangling and smoothing.

He stopped and she heard the click as he set the comb on the table. She felt him press the towel on her hair, sponging up the damp. Then he slid the towel away. She sat still, half holding her breath. He seemed to have paused too. And then, just when she knew it would happen, she felt his warm lips on her neck.

Chapter Six

SHE could have stopped what was happening so easily. A look, a word, was all it would have taken. But she said nothing. Her eyes closed, she tilted her head, inviting Rory’s kisses to continue. They did. Slow, gentle, incredibly erotic, his lips inched down her neck. At the junction where neck met shoulder his teeth bit down gently.

A soft moan escaped her and his arms slid round to embrace her. One arm encircled her waist firmly, the other seeking her breast. He caressed her, his thumb stroking around her tight nipple. She leaned back into him. This was what she wanted, more than anything. All her concerns started slipping from her mind. Besides, she reasoned dreamily, they weren’t in the office, were they? It was perfect.

His arms tightened around her and he lifted her up, settling her across his knee as he sat back against the sofa.

She looked up at him as he held her loosely. She could feel his erection pressing against her side. She knew he was waiting for her reaction, giving her the chance to pull away. Slowly and deliberately she licked her lips. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered, her voice wobbling with the force of the need she felt.

Just as slowly and deliberately he lowered his head. She held hers up, in perfect position. The gentle graze of his lips against hers set her nerve ends trembling. She immediately opened her mouth for more and just as quickly he came back with it. Kisses between them could never be small and gentle for long. Their banked-up passion was too strong to be contained.

She felt as if she could keep on kissing him for hours. Long deep kisses in which she finally had the freedom to explore his beautiful mouth, feel him enter hers and make his claim. But slowly, inexorably, the feeling that it wasn’t enough soared. She wanted more. She moved restlessly. His hands began a deeper exploration of her body. He loosened her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. The thin straps of the negligee followed. She lifted her arms free of them and the soft material slid to her middle, revealing her breasts. With a groan he quickly lowered his head and fastened onto the nearest nipple. Alternately licking and sucking, he created the most exquisite sensations. She watched him through half-closed eyes, turned on even more by the look of intense pleasure on his face.

His fingers trailed up and down her leg, going higher with each sweep, sliding the silk away so her thighs were exposed. Such delicious torment that she squirmed and her legs parted. Finally his hand hit the top of her thigh and slid against her warm, wet groove. She groaned in delight. That was what she wanted, more, more, more.

He lifted his head and smiled at her. ‘You like that?’

Like wasn’t the word. She rocked against his hand. He obeyed her silent order and started a slow, rhythmic stroke. She smiled back at him and pulled his head to hers, wanting to taste him again, feel him with every inch of her body. He trailed kisses over her face, down her throat and over her breasts again before passionately returning upwards to her lips and then beginning again until her face and torso were on fire, and she panted helplessly, unable to move, unable to do anything but revel in the sheer, blissful torture of his touch. His fingers gently circled and stroked until she was slick with moisture and rotating her pelvis against his teasing hand. He muttered softly between kisses. ‘I want to see you come. I want to feel it, taste it. I want to hear you. Come alive for me, beautiful. Come for me.’

It didn’t take long. His words, his lips, his hands, his fingers drove her wild.

‘Rory,’ she gasped. ‘Rory, I want…’ she gasped again, unable to get the words out. Not sure what they were any more. Relentlessly his mouth and fingers drove on, not giving her any respite. Her feet arched and her toes curled as the first shudder ripped through her. Still he worked, sucking, stroking, squeezing. Her body arched uncontrollably again and again as sensation zinged through every cell. He pulled the cry of ecstasy from her with ease.

She stilled. Shocked. Her mind refusing to function. Having felt only ache for the last few days, her body wallowed in the weightless warmth now spreading through. She couldn’t have opened her eyes if she’d tried. She was vaguely aware of his hand gently stroking her arm, her legs, of being held closely to him. A small part of her whispered for more, that there was more to come, but she wasn’t able to focus. Her consciousness floated away.

It was dark when she woke but the room was partially lit with light coming from the hallway through the open door. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimness, her brain reliving what had happened when she’d last been awake. Oh, boy. Aroused again in seconds, she hungered for the main course. He lay next to her, his arm resting on her hip. He breathed evenly but she knew he was awake. She could feel the vitality emanating from him.

She smiled into the darkness. ‘Where am I?’

‘Where you belong.’ His low growl was immediate.

Her stomach swooped. Her pulse stepped up a gear. ‘And where’s that?’ Knowing the answer but wanting to hear it. Wanting to hear the passion in his voice.

‘In my bed.’

A rush of satisfaction pooled in her belly. It merged with desire and she pulled his head to hers, fixing her mouth to his, and passionately tongued him. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but being with him in this moment.

She pressed her body length to length against his and elation filled her as she discovered he was gloriously naked. Hot, hard, huge and finally hers.

She pulled her head back and challenged him. ‘Where’s my negligee?’

She saw the flash of white as he smiled. ‘It slipped off.’

‘You got a thing about stripping me while I’m asleep?’

She felt his hot breath on her as he chuckled. She explored his chest with her fingers, tracing through the hair. She revelled in the feeling of his hard thighs pressing against her. She longed to run her hands over those too and burrowed a little in the bed so she could.

‘I’m sorry I went to sleep on you.’ Her voice was slightly muffled. Her hands crossed over his taut abs and down. She found his nipple with her tongue and worked around it, swirling and tasting.

‘I’m not. It was beautiful. You’re beautiful.’ He smoothed a hand down her back.

‘I’m awake now,’ she said as she reached the top of his thighs with both palms.

‘No kidding.’ He seemed to struggle to get the words out.

Pleased and emboldened by the night, she took him in her hand. She’d only stroked him a couple of times, appreciating his length and girth, when he stopped her, his hand gripping her wrist like a vice.

‘Inside you,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘I want to come inside you.’ He pulled her back up the bed and kissed her long and hard and deep and when he finally lifted his head she knew she was lost.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’

He growled with laughter and she melted more.

‘I’ve been waiting too long for this to have it over in two minutes.’

Oh. Excitement trammelled through her, an almost nervous anticipation. She didn’t know if she could handle much more. She wanted him now. It seemed as if she’d wanted him for ever. But he was relentless. His hands, his mouth, slowly, reverently, traced her body, igniting tiny fires all over that built and merged and threatened to overwhelm her reason. He tossed the bedcovers back, the heat between them keeping them more than warm enough. She learnt his body as he learnt hers. She gave free rein to all her desires, to touch him, to kiss him as she’d dreamed of night after night. But he soon pulled free of her, groaning as he reclaimed control. Then she could only lie back and let him caress her in ways she’d blushed about when fantasising.

He nipped gently at the smooth skin of her inner thighs with his teeth, then soothed the skin with lush kisses.

‘Rory,’ she whispered brokenly, ‘I can’t take any more.’

‘Yes, you can, beautiful.’ And then he kissed her right there. His tongue hungrily tasted her sweetness, lashing her with its length, his mouth fastened onto her, regularly sucking until her hips arched and her hands fisted into his hair. His fingers came to tease inside her while his other hand tormented a rock-hard nipple.

Her head thrashed and her body shook as she proved her point—her mind and body imploded as the sensations he stirred catapulted her into ecstasy.

He pressed slow kisses up her belly. ‘Are you still with me?’

The power and intensity of that orgasm had far from satisfied her. It had only worsened the unbearable ache in her womb. She needed him there.

‘Make love to me, Rory. Please.’

He stared down at her intently, rigid with desire, and then he kissed her, pressing her head down into the mattress with the force of it. The weight of his body settled onto hers and her excitement level sky-rocketed again. She felt the dampness on his skin and knew he was only just keeping himself in check.

He reached across to the bedside table.

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’m on the pill.’

‘OK.’ He gulped in a deep breath. ‘You’re sure? You’re sure you’re ready for this?’

She was more than sure and she wanted nothing between them. He moved closer and she could concentrate on nothing else but him. Her ears were finely attuned to his roughened breathing and her own shallow pants. She pulled at him to hurry, but he held back, braced above her, fixing her in place with his beautiful burning eyes. Then, as smoothly as a hot knife sliding through butter, he filled her. Oh, boy, did he fill her.