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

Finally.

It felt so damn good that for a moment her mind blanked completely as the sensation short-circuited her whole system. She realised the moan of bliss had been hers. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a slow, rapturous smile. His unwavering gaze beat down on her. She saw the wonder and delight she felt mirrored in his face. She flexed her hips up to him a fraction.

His breath hissed between clenched teeth. ‘Not yet—’ his voice tight ‘—or it won’t be two seconds, let alone two minutes.’

She watched as he fought for control, thrilled that he, like she, had almost been obliterated the instant they had joined together. That he felt the passion for her as strongly as she did him.

Slowly he brought up his hand and stroked her hair, then down to frame her face with fingers that shook slightly. Not taking her eyes from his, she turned a little to press a tiny erotic kiss into his palm. She gave him a saucy grin and saw his serious look lighten in return.

At last he moved. Slowly releasing, then pressing close again. Slow, sure strokes that seemed to break through every barrier she’d thought she’d installed permanently. With every movement he filled her, came further into her, breaking into her heart, becoming part of her. And the thing was, it felt wonderful.

She arched to meet him, length to length, stroke to stroke. She ran her hands down his taut muscles, delighting in the ripple of hardness that greeted her.

Slowly, teasingly, he danced with her, sometimes kissing her, sometimes holding her gaze. She kissed his neck; he kissed her breast. But inevitably the pace increased. So too did the intensity and sheer physicality until at last they were pounding hard together. Over and over they met as one until her mind blanked again as he sent her over the edge. Shuddering, she was just conscious enough to feel his big body spasm as he fiercely gathered her closer, his fingers gripping her to him, roaring as finally he too lost his fight for control.

Sweat-slicked and sated, she slept. Silent in the tight embrace that he’d locked her into once he’d shifted the bulk of his weight off her. Somewhere in the back of her mind the thought niggled that she should be going home. That she should be running, far and fast. But she was tired. So tired. And so content. She would wake, see him, want him, have him and then crash again. She couldn’t remember whether that had happened three, four or five times through the night. All she knew was that it still wasn’t enough. He was a sex god. She’d never experienced such pleasure. Now that she had, she wanted it again, over and over. Just this night, she told herself, just let me have this one night.

In the morning the magic sanctuary of the darkness remained. It was as if a bubble had descended, enclosing them in a world where only they existed. Where doubts and pasts and futures lay forgotten, forbidden. She sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen bench in her silk negligee, loving the sight of him pottering in the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of tent-shaped boxers. There was something so decadent about the scene. He cooked her soft, creamy eggs that slipped down her throat. She beamed at him, ignoring the fact that the strap of her negligee had slipped from her shoulder and she was dangerously close to flashing him. When had anyone cooked for her last? When had anyone made her feel so cared for? So cosseted? So loved?

Her smile died as she stared at him, her breakfast abandoned. This couldn’t be love. This was just attraction. That was all it could be. He held her gaze as he tossed the pan aside and came to her, his eyes lancing, exposing her doubt. Then he bent his head and with only a few gentle touches made her forget. Forget her concern, forget her rules, forget the egg. She went up in flames. Hard and fast with her perched on the edge of the bench, him standing before her. Her negligee rucked up, his boxers halfway down his muscular thighs. Then he suddenly scooped her off the edge and took her weight himself, deeper, harder, joyous. It was as if he wanted to support all of her himself, be the foundation from which she could fly.

She leaned against him in recovery, breathing hard like him, still overwhelmed by the tornado-like climax they’d shared. He cradled her for long moments, the after-play of his hands soothing her, keeping the devils at bay.

He picked her up again and carried her to the bathroom. Stood with her under the hot shower, soaping her back, massaging her shoulders. Invigorating was definitely the word for his showers. He aroused her again, slower this time, but no less passionately.

She slipped into the robe knowing she ought to be pulling clothes on instead. But the tiredness controlled her and she pushed the thoughts away, tried to turn the mute button on the doubts whispering at her. What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. You’re making a fool of yourself—he’ll make a fool of you… She pressed the mute button again. It worked that time. He bundled her up in a soft mohair blanket on the sofa, put a selection of books on the floor beside her and a jug of water. His ministrations were so tender and caring she was afraid to read the motive that lay behind them. No one had cared for her like this, not since her mother had died. Weakly she closed her eyes, blocking out the significance. Seconds later she fell asleep.

‘Lissa we need to talk.’ The sofa had sunk under his weight as soon as her eyes had opened.

‘No, we don’t, Rory.’

‘I think we do.’

‘No.’ She looked at him firmly. She didn’t want this, not now. She just wanted to feel. Just wanted to prolong the magic a little longer before she had to end it for her own protection.

His eyes were full of the unspoken. She allowed herself to indulge for a moment. But those doubts came rushing in. Was this going to be the talk where he made promises? Promises of the kind that Grant had made? As her mother’s boss had made to her? Insincere? Meaningless? She couldn’t trust him. After all, she barely knew him. The weak part of her rebelled—she did know him. She’d witnessed his integrity at work, his drive, his charm. She was in his apartment, for goodness’ sake, something that had never happened with Grant. There certainly was no sign of another woman’s presence in his life.

No. She had to believe this was just a brief moment. A fling. Once she went home, it would be over. She could never have a relationship like this in the office.

She knew he watched her intently as she thought. ‘Lissa…’

Unwilling to listen to what she thought would be lies and too afraid to take the chance they weren’t, she moved quickly to silence him, literally swallowing his words.

Later he went back to the kitchen, bringing her more soup. They ate leisurely and had each other for dessert.

At one point she woke, her body aching but sated. Her head rested on his thigh as he sat at one end of the sofa and she lay along it. Music softly played as he read. A great wave of tenderness bathed her. He was gorgeous. Such a generous lover. She wanted to do something just for him. She smiled a small secret smile. Who was she kidding? She wanted to do it for herself, while she could. She rolled over so she was facing into his body, his crotch in front of her. Before he could stop her she undid his jeans and freed him. He was rock-hard in seconds. She took him in a firm grip, squeezing slightly.

‘Lissa?’

She loved the husky note in his voice. She shushed him. ‘Just let me.’ She leaned forward and began her oral exploration. She heard his book thud on the floor. Then she was caught in her own pleasure of discovering him. She traced the ridge of him with her tongue, closed her eyes and breathed in his maleness. Nuzzling, stroking, she loved the pulsing she felt in response. Her awareness of her surroundings faded completely as she lost herself in the taste, feel and smell of him. With both hands she worked him, keeping him in place as she caressed and kissed and sucked, hot and hard.

‘Stop, stop, stop!’

She finally heard his cries. She glanced up at him.

‘I’m going to come,’ he panted.

She chuckled, her hands continuing to stroke. ‘That’s the whole point,’ and then lowered her lips again and sucked as she would her favourite lollipop. He pulsed and jerked and she revelled in the sound of his harsh groan as he gave her all he had. She loved the power of reducing him to merely a body capable of nothing but enjoying mindless pleasure, the power he had over her. A weekend of physical pleasure, that was all it was, all it could be—right?

Licking her lips, she looked up at him with a satisfied smile. ‘I’m sure it’s good for me.’

‘I know it’s good for me.’ His face was flushed and he breathed hard. ‘You’re going to give me a heart attack if you do that again.’

She pouted.

‘Just warn me next time so I can be ready,’ he explained.

‘You’re always ready.’ She slapped at his chest playfully. ‘That’s what I like about you.’

She yawned and stretched her toes. Turned again and resettled her head comfortably on his lap. Her eyes drifted shut. Warm and snug by the fire, cocooned in his arms, she’d never felt so content.

His amused voice seemed to come from miles away. ‘I thought I was supposed to be the one who rolled over and went to sleep.’

Chapter Seven

SHE kept the mute button on those damn alarm bells that kept trying to ring off in her head. As the day dragged into evening neither of them raised the subject of her going home, or work, or what was happening between them. After she’d stopped his attempt earlier it was as if they had an unspoken agreement to ignore it completely and just enjoy the now.

She knew she should leave, that staying meant it was only going to be harder tomorrow, but she was still so damn tired and it wasn’t just her body fighting fatigue, but her will as well. She just couldn’t deny it any more. Her desire for him was overwhelming. And now she had known the fulfilment of it she couldn’t seem to give it up. She just wanted to give into it over and over. One more night, she promised herself as he pulled her to him, just one more night. But the mute button was failing so she tried mental earmuffs. Ten seconds into his kiss she was in the clear, her mind latched onto one thing only.

The loud beeping of his alarm startled her.

‘Damn,’ he groaned. ‘I have to go.’ But he made no move to leave the bed; rather he proceeded to awaken her fully with his own playful style.

He wandered off to shower and, appalled, she felt the lethargy return. As she lay recovering she broached the subject she’d been ignoring for the last thirty-six hours.

‘I should go home and go to work.’ She said it as soon as he walked back into the room.

‘No. You’re still sick.’

She half drowned his reply as she hacked through another coughing fit. Holding his shirt, he looked at her with the most outrageous ‘I told you so’ smirk.

She sighed, her eyes watering. ‘I should at least be recovering at home. The fever has gone.’

‘No.’ The finality in his tone was unmistakable. No doubt about it. He was used to getting what he wanted. Getting used to having her. Trouble. Ignoring the fact that what he wanted from her was exactly what she wanted from him, she forced irritation to the fore.

‘Rory,’ she began crossly, ‘I can’t stay here.’

He leaned over her, his arms imprisoning her in the bed. He kissed her slowly. ‘You can’t go. You’ve got no money, no clothes, and I’ve got your keys.’ The devilish glint in his eye softened. ‘Just get some sleep, beautiful. We’ll talk tonight, OK?’

Incredibly she did spend most of the morning asleep. The cough still racked and her body felt as if it had been hit by a bus. Not surprising given the workout it had had in the last two days. She smiled. Rory had amazing stamina.

She scavenged in the kitchen for brunch and realised she was looking forward to him walking through the door. Counting the hours, in fact. Uh-oh. The phone rang and she stared at it, holding the fridge door open although it wasn’t that causing the chill on her skin. It clicked to the answering machine.

‘It’s me. Pick up.’

Rory. She picked it up immediately, instinct overriding better judgment. It was a brief call; he seemingly had nothing of great importance to say. She was certain he’d only called because he’d wanted to make sure she was still there.

‘I’ll be home as soon as I can.’ He rang off.

Home.

She slowly put the phone back on its cradle and stood staring at it for long moments. Where was home? She had been travelling for almost two years loving every moment. But her time was up. Her ticket already booked. She had friends she hadn’t seen in all that time already planning lunch dates. She was looking forward to it, damn it. The old saying popped into her head, mocking her. ‘Home is where the heart is.’ Tears sprang at her eyes. She knew just where her heart was—in trouble.

She leaned against the bench for support as she began to realise the full consequences of what she had done. She’d tried to stay away from him because she knew how dangerous office affairs could be. But she’d succumbed to the attraction in the privacy of his home. And in doing so she’d opened herself up to a far greater hurt. Even if she did think for a moment, just for a moment, that he was as crazy about her as she was for him, it still wasn’t going to work because her flight was booked. She was going to have to say goodbye to him. And as hard as that would be it would only get worse the more time she spent with him now. Saying goodbye sooner would be better than later.

Her mother had suffered years of loneliness and heartache after the death of her lover, Lissa’s father. He’d died when Lissa was only a tiny life growing inside her and her mother had been little more than a child herself at the time. To lose a lover, your true love, be it through death or geographical circumstance, was devastating.

The force of her emotion terrified her and she knew in her bones it was only going to deepen further. She’d really fallen in love with him. He had his career here, his family, his life. Even if he wanted to she wouldn’t let him give that up. Besides, this was just an affair for him. Who was to say it was anything more than a weekend’s ‘distraction’?

Doubts raced at her, scurrying through her mind, making her feel fear, making her want to run. She tried to fight it.

She went back through to the lounge and stared half-heartedly at the bookcase. She needed something to read for a while. Daytime TV depressed her and if she went back to bed now she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight. Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea—a night of insomnia with Rory for company? Bad idea. She shook herself; she had to get this under control.

She stared at the spines of the books, uninspired. And then she saw the album on the bottom shelf. Guiltily, knowing she shouldn’t but unable to stop, she pulled it towards her and opened it. Rory the gorgeous as a baby, aged two, and onwards till it ended with him looking about sixteen. She turned the pages, entranced at the images of him. Amazed that the features she adored had been so noticeable from such a young age. Those vivid green eyes, and thick dark hair. She traced the development of his strong male physique. No boy should have shoulders so broad. She half laughed at the awful clothing he’d worn as a young teenager, knowing she’d been as guilty of the same crime. She studied the pictures of him with his parents and sister. They looked a close family. A happy family. It was obvious they still were—devoted Uncle Rory. She sighed and looked across at the fire, gloomily pushing away the spark of envy. They were poles apart. How could they ever have a future together when their pasts were so different? She’d had only her mother, her father dying before she was born, her grandparents had rejected both her mother and her. After her mother had been killed in an accident she’d been alone and naïve and fallen for Grant. She seemed destined to make this kind of mistake.

Game over. She paced, ready for him. She’d been wearing a groove in the rug half the afternoon, going stir crazy. Getting incredibly anxious about the mess she’d got herself into with her uninhibited indulgence. She needed to get outside. Most of all, she needed to get away from him. She’d woken from the dream and those alarm bells were ringing non-stop. Nothing she could do would silence them now. It was only a matter of time before he hurt her, intentionally or not. Sure, she’d just had a weekend of the best sex of her life and she loved the way he could make her laugh, but it wasn’t going to last and she needed to get out now before she ended up totally wrecked. She had to say thanks, goodbye and move on. Back to work, back to platonic. For a moment she dreaded his reaction—would he turn on her as Grant had? Surely not. But she had a goodbye planned, one she was determined to enjoy.

The key sounded in the lock and she marched over to meet him. She watched as he entered and with bitter-sweet pleasure saw the desire already evident in his face. It grew as he looked her over. She had dressed in a pair of his boxers and a shirt, unbuttoned to the waist. She saw the gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

‘Come and sit on the sofa,’ she invited softly. ‘You must be tired from a hard day.’

‘Tired is the last thing I’m feeling,’ he replied, but complied anyway, taking a seat in the middle of the sofa.

She looked down at him, a soft smile curving her lips. She watched as an answering smile spread across his features. His eyes twinkled. She loved that lusty, expectant look he got. She loved it that he was hot for her the minute she looked at him. His hand went to loosen his tie.

‘Uh-uh,’ she said, shaking her head, determined to keep it light, keep it fun.

He stilled and his grin turned wicked.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘You’re the boss, huh?’

‘Damn straight,’ she replied. He certainly was a quick learner, but then she knew that already.

With a fluid movement she peeled off the boxers she was wearing. She moved forward and straddled him on the sofa, her knees comfortable in the soft cushions on either side of him. He rested his head back and watched her as she undid his belt and trousers, pulling them aside just enough to free him.

‘You’re every fantasy I’ve ever had, you know that?’ he muttered.

She smiled.

‘Only more,’ he added reverently. ‘Much more.’

She touched her mouth to his, protecting herself from those powerful eyes and tempting words.

He was ready and she’d been ready for hours. There didn’t seem much point in mucking around. She bent forward and feathered kisses along his jaw.

‘I’m going home tonight,’ she whispered as her hands slid down, holding him where she wanted him.

His head jerked up. She stopped him replying by placing a finger on his lips and squirming her hips down on him hard. She felt him gasp as she took him into her all the way. Then she leant forward and kissed him ruthlessly. She couldn’t block the emotion: desperation and sorrow and all her desire. She held nothing back. Then passion increased and it flooded out the heartache. She longed to give everything to him but she couldn’t. All the while her hips moved sinuously against him with a slow and crazy rhythm. When she freed him from the kiss he was panting, his hands hard on her hips trying to control the tempo and pull her even closer.

She tossed her head back. ‘I’ll stop right now if you don’t agree.’

Who was she kidding? She couldn’t stop now if she tried, her hips seemed to have taken on a life of their own and she desperately rode him harder. He knew. He bucked upwards and she sucked in her breath, unable to stop the answering rotation of her hips. A lazy grin appeared on his face, but the red tinge in his cheeks gave him away.

‘Oh, so you’re playing hardball,’ he mocked.

‘You’ll be the one with hard balls if I don’t get what I want.’ She could do this; she could. It was to be their last time together and it was going to be dynamite.

‘I’ve got what you want and it’s right here, beautiful.’

True, but only for a limited time. Doubt gnawed at her. Part of her would love to believe in him, in this. She pushed the thoughts aside and strove for nonchalance; she was not going to ruin this final coupling.

She raised her brows, moving slowly against him. ‘Cocky.’

‘Very.’ He nuzzled against her breast. ‘I bet I can make you come before I do.’

She pulled back and looked at him. A smile tugged her lips. ‘Well, now, that is a challenge. And the prize?’

‘Where you spend tonight.’ His hot mouth covered one of her hard nipples and sucked on it hard. The desire to ravish him increased threefold.

‘Fine.’ She threw her head back as she savoured the tugging sensation at her breast. God, he was good. But she could be too. She flexed her most feminine muscles, hard, several times.

He whistled slightly as he sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers bit into her hips a second before he shifted slightly beneath her. Then he looked up at her and grinned slyly. ‘You forget—I’m getting to know you, Lissa. I know what you like.’

She pressed her lips together. That was certainly true. She opened her mouth to breathe out heavily. She needed to regroup, but his attentions were proving hard to ignore. She closed her eyes. What was his thumb doing? Pushing all the right buttons. She moved and tightened again, retaking control. She felt him tense and smiled a little. This was one bet she couldn’t afford to lose…

In the finish they tied. It hadn’t been a long race either, the pleasure of giving doubling the pleasure of receiving. They lay sprawled on the sofa, him still half dressed, clothes askew, her completely naked and wanton.

Coldness stole into her. She sat up and pulled on his shirt, wrapping it tightly around her. It was finished. It had to be.

‘I’m going home tonight, Rory. Even if I have to walk there barefoot and break the window to get in. I’m going home.’

He stared at her moodily.

‘You can’t have everything your own way,’ she continued, looking away from the disappointment she glimpsed in his eyes.

‘I want you to stay.’

She jerked her head back. It had sounded suspiciously like a command.

His green irises darkened, drawing her in. ‘We have to talk about this.’

She rose from the sofa, turning her back on him, ignoring his frustrated growl. She needed to keep this light. Not enter into a heavy conversation in which declarations might be made. False promises, the rashness of passion. Better to chalk it down to a fun weekend—one to be walked away from. ‘What would you have me do—stay here for ever as your sexual playmate?’ She glanced over her shoulder at him.

A wolfish grin leapt across his features. ‘Not a bad idea.’

She ignored him and started on her arguments. ‘I’m going back to work tomorrow. I need to get home and sort my stuff out.’

‘I don’t think you should. You’re still pale, you look exhausted.’

‘And who’s to blame for that? You think I’m going to get much sleep here?’

‘What if I promise not to touch you?’

She threw him a sceptical look. ‘Look what happened the last time you promised that. Forty-eight hours later you were ravaging me in the stairwell. I need to get back to work. They’ll be getting a temp in to cover for the temp. I want to go, Rory.’

He studied her and she met his gaze squarely. He looked sombre and she knew she had won.

‘OK, I’ll run you home after dinner.’

‘No, I should go now.’

‘After dinner.’ He spoke abruptly. He looked at her and softened a little. ‘I’ve seen what’s in your fridge, remember?’

She decided to quit while ahead.

They barely spoke through the meal. She tried to eat something but her appetite had vanished. She caught him looking at her several times with knowledge in his eyes and, coward-like, she looked away, trying to buy a few minutes’ more time before she had it out with him. Despite the frenzied love-making they had just shared her body was starting to ache with want again and she knew she needed to get away from him fast.