His warm mouth. The cool air of my house. The soft pressure of his tongue as he sucks on me.

  “Holden,” I moan, my hands flying to the button of his pants. To his zipper. To his hard, silky cock constrained within.

  His entire body stills at my touch. His hand on my breast tenses as every part of me readies for the feel of him. Teasing me. Pleasuring me. Owning me.

  “Does that make you wet?” he murmurs against my skin. “If I felt beneath your skirt right now, would that sweet pussy of yours be dripping for me like it was earlier?” He slides a hand beneath the hem of my skirt and his moan of appreciation fills the room. “Oh, it is, isn’t it?” His mouth meets mine again. His tongue teases as his fingers rub ever so softly, back and forth over my dampened panties.

  The pressure is enough for my nerves to know he’s there, but nowhere near what I need or want.

  I tighten my hand on his cock in reflex. In need. In desire. It’s the only leverage I have to make him give me what I want. Him. I try to stroke him, to free him from the confines of his jeans. He emits a quick hiss of breath that’s followed moments later by his hand clamping down over my wrist and guiding it to let go.

  “Bedroom?” The two syllables are a strained demand as he grabs my ass, and I wrap one leg around his hip. The motion adds to the pressure I need, the friction I want, by rubbing my center against the bulge of his erection.

  “Down the hall.” With utter ease and total finesse, he picks me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. My breasts press against the bareness of his chest where his shirt is open. I clasp my hands at the back of his neck and pull him to me so our tongues can meet again.

  We can taunt and tease with the sweet promise of what comes next as he moves slowly down the hallway.

  “Where? Or the hall floor is about as far as we’re going to get,” he says, his lips moving against mine with each syllable.

  “Last door.” The words are panted against the warm skin of his neck. Then they’re forgotten as I press openmouthed kisses down the open collar of his shirt. His hands tighten on my ass with each scrape of my teeth. His breathing grows heavier with each nip of his shoulder blade.

  The next time I take notice, we’re in my bedroom and Holden is setting my ass on my dresser. He stands between my spread legs, his mouth going right back to my breasts and his hands running up and down my thighs. Each run up, the pad of his thumb runs ever so gently against the outside of my panties.

  Sensations. They’re everywhere. In the touch of his hands. In the brush of his lips. In the warmth of his tongue. In the ache that burns so bright I can’t wait for him to light me on fire.

  “Holden.” My fingers thread through his hair. “Please.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “The bed.” My fingernails scrape down his abdomen to the jeans now slung low on his hips. “Now.”

  His chuckle is a rumble among panted breaths as he stands to full height and puts his hand like a necklace on my throat. I try to shake my head free of his hold, but he just presses my back against the wall, tightens his grip ever so slightly, and leans in. His eyes are on mine, his breath is hitting my face, and his hips are pressing against the V of my thighs.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Rowan.” He licks the seam of my lips but when I part them, when I welcome his in, he shakes his head, that chuckle returning. “In the boardroom, you can spar with me. Question me. Try to tell me what to do.” His lips meet mine in a searing kiss that dizzies my head before he pulls back, and his eyes meet mine again. “In here? In the bedroom? I’m in control. Of your pleasure. Of your orgasms. Of—”

  “But—”

  “It’s cute that you think you can argue with me on this.” He reaches down with his free hand and slides it between my thighs. His thumb adds pressure to where I want it and my mewl for more is embarrassingly desperate. I need the panties gone. I need his skin on my slick flesh. I need to feel more. “That you think you can tell me what to do.” He tugs on my bottom lip and then licks over the sting. “But you can’t. Understood?”

  He looks up at me from beneath dark lashes, his eyebrows raised, his hand still pressing against my throat letting me know who’s in charge, and his eyes begging me to say yes.

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.” He hooks my panties to the side with a dexterity I don’t pretend to understand and tucks two fingers inside of me.

  I cry out as every part of me tightens around him. Wanting a release. Needing one. Mentally begging for him to keep going.

  “Christ, baby, you’re a goddamn mess for me.” He leans forward, his lips at my ear, his fingers pushing farther into me with the motion. “See how I reward you when you do what I say? I give you what you want.”

  “Uh-huh.” I feel vulnerable. Alive. Overwhelmed. Controlled. A quad of emotions I’ve never had intermingle. They feel foreign, much like his hand on my throat does. They feel wickedly seductive like his fingers currently sliding in and out of me do. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He takes a step back, his fingers pulling out of me before he pats me soundly so that the reverberations of the motion against my clit ricochet throughout me. “Now take off your clothes, lie on the bed, and spread your legs so I can admire what it is I’m going to fuck.”

  His words are an aphrodisiac all in themselves. The look he gives me as he says them is enough to turn anyone on.

  He helps me off the dresser and in the darkness of my room, I do exactly what he says. It’s only after I discard my shoes and step out of my skirt and panties that I hesitate.

  Since when do I obey? Since when do I take orders from a man?

  But there’s something about the dark promise of his words that turns me on more. There’s something—

  “Rowan?” Holden is against my back, clearly naked, his cock evidently free of his pants as it presses salaciously against my ass. I still as he trails a row of kisses down the curve of my shoulder. “Are we hesitating?” He rubs his five-o’clock shadow over the skin there. “It’s hard to give up control. To let someone own your sensations, your feelings, your orgasms.” He lifts his two fingers up to my lips. “Suck.”

  I obey. I suck the sweet tang of myself off of him. My mind spinning and my body burning from the heat of his body against mine.

  “If that’s what giving up control tastes like,” he says in that low tenor of his, “just think what it’s going to feel like. Now, on your back on the edge of the bed like the good girl I know you are.” His hand grabs my ass and squeezes. “I’m waiting and I don’t like to wait.”

  With a breath that’s shaky from equal parts nerves and anticipation, I move to my bed and do as he asks—on my back, legs spread, eyes on him.

  I don’t even have time for modesty to hit me because Holden moves to the edge of the bed in all his naked glory.

  He’s hard lines and cut dents. He’s broad shoulders and strong thighs. He has a trimmed waist and an incredibly gorgeous cock that’s a little above average in length and more than ample in girth. He’s strong forearms and big hands. Hands that are currently occupied—one slowly stroking his cock up and down. The other holding my crumpled panties to his nose where he’s making a show of breathing them in.

  Simply put, the man is gorgeous. Sexy. Commanding. And that smirk he gives as he lowers the scrap of lace and looks at them before meeting my eyes adds an element of danger to him.

  “Did you wear these for him? For Gregory?” Holden asks as he brings them to his nose again and sniffs them. “Is this—you on them—from him, Rowan? Or did you put them on thinking of me? Hoping for me? Did you soak them only when you kissed me?”

  My breath quickens. My pulse races. My nipples harden. My body craves.

  “That’s what I thought.” He chuckles. “It was for me.” He drops the panties, runs his hands up my calves, and then pulls me so that my calves are hanging over the bed. “Don’t be shy to admit it. It turns me on knowing you were sitting with another man but dripping for me.” He lifts my leg up and kisses the inside of my ankle, but his eyes continue to remain on me, creating a kind of intimacy I’m not used to.

  Like I’m the center of this man’s world and everything that happens from here on out is dependent on my responses.

  It’s heady.

  It’s overwhelming.

  “You’ve touched yourself thinking about me, haven’t you?” He stands before me, rolling a condom on his cock before taking its entirety in his hand, his lips parting as he slowly strokes himself. Down. Up. A twist of his wrist over his crest. Then the mesmerizing process starts all over again. “Come on, now. Don’t be shy. I’m about to do a lot more than ask questions. The least you can do is give me the answer I deserve.”

  I close my eyes, sink my teeth in my bottom lip, and die of embarrassment as I nod.

  I yelp and my eyes fly open at the warm, wet heat of Holden sliding his tongue up the seam between my thighs without warning. My breath hitches. My hips lift. My legs open wider. My hands reach out to grip his hair but he’s standing up with an arrogant grin on his lips before I can.

  “Show me what you did.”

  “Holden.” His name is part sigh, part mortification, part rejection. I’m not a prude by any means, but I’m also not used to being put on display like Holden is doing right now.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Show me and I’ll show you.” He continues his slow, steady stroke. “Just like this. In my shower. In my bed. In…” His groan replaces his words as I slide my hands down my abdomen, part myself with one hand, and rub lazy circles over my clit with the other. “Just like that, baby.”

  I’m self-conscious at first. Sure, I’ve done this with lovers before, but not someone on our first time. Not like this. But I force myself to keep my eyes on Holden. On the taut tendons in his neck. In the flex of his bicep with each pump. On the way he squeezes the base and then tightens it again at his crest. On his face pulling tight and his eyelids growing heavy.

  “Keep going. Show me what the thought of me does to you.”

  I dip my fingers down below to wet them before sliding them back up and moving faster this time.

  “Fucking perfection.” He steps forward so that with each stroke of his cock, each rock of his hips into his hands, his tip brushes where I want it desperately. In me.

  The burn becomes an ache.

  The ache becomes a need I have to reach.

  A tsunami I need to take the ride on.

  I lose myself in the sensations. In the way he watches me. In the anticipation of what’s to come. In the orgasm I can feel is slowly building brick by brick, row by row.

  “Fucking hell,” Holden groans, pulling me from my haze of pleasure as he pushes his way into me, his hips bucking involuntarily.

  It’s the slightest of slips of his control, but it’s incredibly empowering knowing I made him lose it.

  I moan until my breath is robbed from the feel of my body stretching around him. Of him pushing into me. Of my nerve endings being assaulted in the most sensual of ways.

  “Take it all for me, baby.” His free hand presses my thighs wider. “C’mon.” His head falls back momentarily as the same pleasure swamping me claims him. “I know you can.” He focuses back on where we’re joined. “Can you take any more?”

  I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, my hands suddenly losing their dexterity, but my body sings from his touch now. I meet his eyes and am about to say something but the words get lost in a choked-out breath as Holden begins to move.

  He’s slow at first. Long, deliberate strokes that hit each and every nerve within. He has one hand on the side of my waist holding me still, the other is under my ass holding my hips up at an angle.

  He leans over and kisses me. Our tongues tangle much like our bodies do. His chest pushing against mine, teasing my sensitive nipples with each push in and then separating with the next pull out.

  Desire fuels each kiss.

  Want drives every touch.

  Need pushes us not to think and just feel.

  And greed, greed has him pick up the pace. Has him grunt in my ear and my nails score his skin. Has me lifting my hips and opening as far as I can for him. Has me struggling to breathe, to think, to speak—I can only feel.

  Oh my god.

  Yes.

  Right there.

  Take it, baby.

  Harder.

  Come for me.

  Faster.

  Show me what I do to you.

  I know the orgasm is coming. I can feel it in the tingling of my fingers and the tightening of my lower belly, but knowing it does nothing to prepare me for its overwhelming onslaught of sensations.

  My legs tense.

  My hands grip.

  My back arches.

  My hips buck.

  I look up; my last thought when I see Holden is he’s a coil of restraint about to snap and take me with him when he does.

  And then I’m gone. Fuse lit. Body detonated. Sensations overloaded.

  Pleasure washes over me. It drags me under its pull. It drowns me in its bliss. It owns my breath, my thoughts, my reactions, and the two syllables I moan out. Holden.

  It doesn’t stop after the first wave of it crests and tumbles against the sensations. It ebbs and flows as Holden holds my hips still—fingertips bruising my soft flesh there—as he pistons his hips against mine.

  My body is his to use right now. To sate while he steals pleasure. To overwhelm while he is pulled into the undertow. To own while he captures his own climax.

  His guttural groan is low and desperate as he throws his head back and absorbs the sensations rocking him.

  His hips jerk. His body tenses. He’s a sight to behold with a stream of moonlight across his body, a mist of sweat on his chest, and his hair mussed and falling onto his forehead.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Rowan

  I stare at myself in my bathroom mirror.

  At my flushed cheeks and swollen lips. At the red marking my skin from where Holden’s hands held me in place. At the fire in my eyes and disbelief in my expression.

  I could ask myself how I let this happen. How Holden Knight is on the other side of this door, in my bed … naked.

  But I know damn well how it did. I willed it to happen, didn’t I? I told myself that never in a million years would I sleep with the man who’s taking over my company, and in the process I lost sight of the sexual tension that kept thickening between us.

  But I wanted it to happen. Hell, I even dreamt of us breathless and tangled in sheets. I just never thought we actually would. I never thought I’d cross that line.

  I never thought I’d allow myself to “live in the gray” with him.

  Shit.

  The plus side? Reality was way better than dream-ville.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I realize the bravado I had when I walked up and kissed him earlier tonight is gone. Vanished right along with my sense, so it seems.

  Panic has surfaced. Hell, it set in the minute the orgasms faded and reality prevailed.

  How are we to work together after I just obeyed him? How am I supposed to pass him in the hallway at work and not hear that rumble of his voice telling me what a good girl I am? How am I to face him in a boardroom and not envision him standing before me with his cock in his hand, looking at me like he wants to devour me?

  First-time sex is awkward enough. Throw in the fact that it was with him and that just complicates matters more.

  A little too late to wonder these things now, right, Row?

  And even later to realize I didn’t think through my escape to the bathroom to clean up very well. I don’t have any clothes in here to put on. My towels that I could use to wrap around myself are still in the dryer where I loaded them this morning. So now I’m naked, having regrets, and needing to go out to face Holden and set things straight.

  Talk about splashing water on a burning fire.

  With a fortifying breath, I open the door and move back into my room. I don’t know why I expected the lights to still be off. Even worse, I don’t know why I thought Holden might be dressed and getting ready to leave. Maybe because he’s efficient and professional when it comes to all other matters.

  Not this time.

  When I step into my room, Holden is lying in my bed, arm propped behind his head on the pillow, bicep bulging from the position and a reflective smile on his face as he studies me.

  Jesus. The man is … something else. Usually, you have sex and the allure is altered some—lessened. Not with him. Not even a little bit.

  “Look,” I say, preparing to lay it all out there.

  “Uh-oh, here comes all-business Rowan.”

  “Stop. Just let me—”

  “You know she turns me on too, right? With her tight sweaters, her no-nonsense attitude, and how she sways her hips really hard when she stalks away after I piss her off? Why do you think I enjoy making you mad at me?”

  I sigh and walk to the foot of the bed. He shifts to show me I have his undivided attention—eyes roaming over my naked body—and in the process, the sheet slides off some and bares his hip and stomach.

  The dents. The dips. The perfection.

  If I didn’t see it happen with my own eyes, I would have sworn he did it on purpose. A distraction from the sendoff I’m about to give him. His grin when I meet his eyes says that he notices that I noticed.

  Needing a distraction, I pick up the first thing on the floor I find to put on—of the mind that he’ll take me more seriously if I have clothes on. Of course, it’s his dress shirt, but that doesn’t stop me from slipping my arms through it and wearing it like a suit of armor.

  “This happened. Tonight happened. It was … a mistake of epic proportions on both our parts,” I say, getting more than flustered. “It can’t happen again.”

  “Epic?” He twists his lips and bobs his head from side to side, completely ignoring the last part. “I think that’s a good way to describe it. Phenomenal. The best you’ve ever had. Sexsational works too. I mean, those would all be more appropriate adjectives.”