After a suspenseful pause, he nods. I sigh in relief, but this is only one obstacle. “Are you worried how it would look if you did a deal with my company?”

  He scoffs, shaking his head. “No. Your company will be lucky to have me as a spokesperson.”

  I grin wickedly. “There’s that cocky charm I adore,” I say. Because he said “will.” And I do adore it. I adore him, and that’s truly terrifying.

  Gunnar squares his shoulders. “I bring value to Rafe Rodman because I’m me.”

  “You do,” I agree.

  But Gunnar’s still holding back, judging from the set of his jaw. He exhales, then tells me, “I just don’t want to be blindsided or hoodwinked. I don’t want to be tricked.”

  My heart squeezes. I like, so much, that he knows who he is and what he will and won’t tolerate. “I know that. I wouldn’t trick you.”

  “And I definitely don’t want to be bought,” he adds. “That’s what bothered me the most—the idea that you’d dangle this sweet deal so I’d say yes to your other offer.”

  “I would never do that to you,” I say adamantly. “If it makes you feel any better, my marketing agency selected you for the campaign. Everyone loves you for it.”

  “Aww, but maybe I want you to love me,” he teases.

  I flinch. It’s a reflex. He’s joking . . . or is he thinking about the future? Does he—would he—want me to love him someday?

  That’s impossible. I won’t let myself love again.

  I shake off the thought and focus on the moment. On thirty flirty days and nights.

  “I swear I had nothing to do with it. Does that make you happy?”

  His grin is sky high. “Incredibly. I don’t want a sweetheart deal. I never want to be offered a contract because I know somebody or because I’m fucking the CEO.”

  I release his hand so I can slide a palm up his thigh. In my sternest tone, I say, “But I’m going to be fucking you.”

  He smirks. “Are you?”

  I’m tired of gamesmanship right now, and I choose the path of brutal honesty. “I want to. I’m a little obsessed with you.” Admitting this lifts a weight from my chest but a new one takes its place.

  The strength of my obsession is its own risk.

  “I’m a little obsessed too,” Gunnar says, husky and needy as he opens up to me.

  Fuck it. There’s no a little obsessed. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Gunnar. I can’t get you out of my head,” I confess as I slide my hands up his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

  He leans close, like he’s compelled to be near me, like he has to breathe me in. “Good. It’s like that for me,” he says, looking drunk on me already.

  “This is dangerous.” I run my fingers through his hair. I want to touch him everywhere, and once I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.

  “I know,” he whispers against my neck then kisses my stubble. “I fucking love that you didn’t shave,” he rasps near my ear.

  “I thought you might like the look,” I whisper.

  “I can’t get enough of it. Just like I can’t get enough of you.”

  We meet each other’s eyes, and I sigh. “I can’t be obsessed. I’ll make worse mistakes, ones that hurt the company, my employees.” I’m thinking about the upcoming Bespoke deal, and the focus I’ll need for that. “And yet I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you.”

  Gunnar slides closer, his lips inches from mine, his breath on my face. “So touch me once. Fuck me once. Take me once. Give me one night, and then we’ll walk away.”

  One night is better than nothing.

  32

  SHOWTIME, LOVER BOY

  Rafe

  If one night is all we have, I want to make each second count.

  I spent this evening getting ready for my man, setting the mood. From the music, to the drinks, to the fresh sheets on the bed, to the gift for him waiting on the coffee table.

  Well, a gift for both of us.

  I also planned to ask him to give me a show and, greedy bastard that I am, I still want it.

  The timetable, though, will now require some finesse so I don’t scare him away.

  Fortunately, I’m fucking fantastic at finesse.

  As I compose myself, returning to the cool, in-control man I have to be, I run the backs of my fingers along his jaw. Gunnar moans, low and guttural. His eyes flutter closed as he leans into my touch.

  “I have a question for you,” I begin.

  Gunnar opens his eyes. They’re hazy, already rimmed with desire. “What is it?”

  I run my finger over his lower lip. He darts out his tongue, flicks it against my fingertip, letting me know what his dirty, beautiful mouth craves.

  “Perhaps, it’s more like a request,” I say, low and sensual, warming him up and turning him on.

  “Name it.” His gravelly tone, the way it rumbles with desire, floods my senses with lust.

  I dip my face to his neck, inhaling his freshly showered scent, which feeds my plans for tonight.

  But first . . . this.

  I run my thumb along his jaw, needing him to know my request is only for me, not a part of the sponsorship deal. But this is where I’ll need to be careful.

  “There’s something I want you to do for me.” I try to concentrate on the details of my request, but focus is hard when he slides his hand up my thigh. Yet I’m determined to get what I want. “I’ve wanted this since we met. This isn’t for the deal.” I don’t want him lunging for the hills again. Gunnar is a man who has no problem walking away. “It’s for me. What I’m going to ask for comes from the greedy, possessive depths of my soul.”

  He presses a hand to my chest. “You mean . . . your true heart?” he asks, full of swagger.

  I laugh. “You know me so well.”

  He holds my gaze with intent. “I do,” he says, stripped of sarcasm and entirely earnest. “So tell me, what does your greedy, possessive, wicked soul want? Besides me.”

  I push my thumb between his lips, giving him a reminder of me fucking his delicious mouth. “You enticed me with an invitation, remember? Come and get me. And I did. I wanted you then, and I’ve wanted to see you in my designs ever since.”

  He gazes at me, heat in his eyes, waiting for me to finish.

  “I want to see you in my new styles before I fuck you and please you and make you come harder than you’ve ever come before. That’s what I want tonight.”

  Gunnar pulls away, removing his hand from my thigh. I should remember that suspicion is his natural state. “And it’s definitely not for a deal?”

  “It’s not,” I say. I drop the seduction, cup his face gently, and meet his gaze, no games between us. “Trust me.”

  His hands slide down my chest, playing with the buttons on my shirt. “I do trust you, Rafe. I trust you entirely.”

  I stroke his cheek with my thumb, the possessive beast in me roaring louder with every touch. “Then know this is only for me.” I plant a hard, hot kiss on his lips. It feels like a promise even though I can offer him nothing beyond tonight.

  When I break the kiss, his eyes spark with dirty deeds. “Then I’ll give you a show, lover boy.”

  I point to the box on the coffee table. “Those are my new designs. Show me how they look on the sexiest man I’ve ever known.”

  He stands, and I sink deeper into the couch, legs spread as I watch him.

  He saunters to the edge of the table, a glint in his eyes. “These are all for me, Mr. Rodman?” he asks, seeming to savor how my name feels on his tongue.

  I run my hand along the front of my erection. “You’ve shown the world how you looked in my designs. Why don’t you show me?”

  In a heartbeat, he whips off his polo shirt and drops it on the floor. Next, he unsnaps the top button on his jeans, shoves them down, and kicks off his socks. He stands in my home in only his tight teal boxer briefs, the Rafe Rodman logo at the waistline.

  In that color, he’s a blank canvas for fucking.

  Gunnar runs a hand over the bulge. “You like these? You want them on a little longer?”

  I groan as pleasure trips through my veins. “Take them off. Let me see how much it turns you on to wear my designs.”

  He slides the briefs down his legs, his hard cock springing free. He curls his palm around his shaft, and I lick my lips, my mouth watering at the sight of him. His cock is long and proud, jutting out from a thick patch of hair I want to bury my face in.

  He leans over, grabs a pair of my new designs from the coffee table, then slides them on. The devil on the front is big—and it’s perfect for the man I want to do all sorts of wicked things to.

  “You want to sin with me, Rafe?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, a smile twisting his lush lips.

  “All. Night. Long.”

  Filthy sincerity shines in his blue irises. “I’m holding you to it.”

  “But first, model them for me,” I command.

  He spins around, giving me a fantastic view of his firm ass, then smacks a hand on one cheek, then the other, glancing back at me with mischief in his eyes.

  Dear God. He will be the death of me tonight. And then again when I let him go.

  “Now another,” I tell him.

  He slides off the devil pair, grabs another, then tugs them on. He’s slow and sexy, teasing, taunting as he shows off the cherry-red briefs with a heart design. He rubs his hand over his bulge. “How do I look, Mr. Rodman?”

  “So good.” I stand, closing the distance between us, and pull them off him. I reach between his legs and wrap a hand around his shaft, my eyes floating closed in pleasure. “It’s been too long since I’ve touched your cock.”

  Gunnar groans. “I know, and it feels incredible.”

  “Bet it’ll feel better when my cock is buried deep in your body,” I rasp, then squeeze him tight. “And you’re going to beg me to fuck you harder.”

  “I’ll beg you now, babe,” he says, rocking into my palm.

  “Gunnar, do you know what my biggest sin is?”

  “I don’t, but I’m dying for your confession.”

  I squeeze his cock again; he’s hard as granite, throbbing with vitality. This beautiful, hungry, needy cock. “It’s a terrible sin that I haven’t sucked your cock yet,” I say.

  “But you can find forgiveness on your knees,” he says.

  He struts to the couch, sinks onto the fine cushion, spreads his muscular legs, and puts on another show. Moving his hands down his chest, he plays with his nipples, teasing the peaks.

  My throat rumbles as his hands travel along the ladder of his carved abs. Lust has me in its clutches—it nearly consumes me when Gunnar grips his thick shaft and pushes it toward me.

  I’m ready to pounce. To drop down on his dick with my mouth. To get on my knees and suck him off completely. He seems to know it as he growls, “I’m ready to make amends, Rafe.”

  But I don’t lose control that easily.

  I shake my head. “That’s not how I intend to suck your cock.”

  “How exactly are you going to suck me then?”

  I point to the bedroom. “Go to my bed now.”

  He scrambles to his feet and takes off.

  33

  PALACE FOR SIN

  Gunnar

  I walk into Rafe’s bedroom, I stop in the doorway and drink in the palace for sin. The sheets on the man’s king-size bed are pristine white. The padded headboard is a silver-gray fabric, framed by slats.

  The duvet is all white, too, and there’s something amusing about the color. Nothing innocent is going to take place in this bedroom tonight.

  Rafe comes up behind me, presses his chest to my back, and drops his lips to my neck. His mouth travels along my skin and up to nip on my earlobe. “Get on your hands and knees and raise that beautiful ass for me.”

  I get on all fours, lust charging down my spine.

  Rafe climbs behind me on the bed, slides his hands down my back, curls one strong hand over my shoulder, kneading the flesh like he owns me. In one swift move, he shoves me down to the bed, pushing my arms out in front of me. “Stay there,” he hisses.

  I comply, shuddering as dirty, delicious images flicker before my eyes.

  I don’t know what he has in store for me.

  But seconds later, he moves down my body, kissing my spine all the way to the top of my ass. He bestows carnal kisses in a promise of what he plans, how he’ll own my ass.

  He bites my cheek, then stops, flips me over to my back. My arms and legs are jelly. “Since the night I met you, I’ve wanted you spread out, hard, and begging,” he says, a soliloquy to all my desires.

  “Well, you’re getting what you want then, babe,” I toss out. “And I am not above begging.”

  He slides off the bed, stands to his full height, and lifts his chin, a dirty look in his dark eyes. “I think I’ll give you a show now,” he says in that rich voice that drips of sex.

  Slowly, sensually, like only a filthy-rich billionaire can, the man undresses, button by button, until his shirt is all the way open. He slides it off his shoulders and tosses the expensive fabric carelessly to the floor.

  I groan obscenely loudly as I stare at his lean muscles, the grooves of his abs. I’m made of bulk, for hitting home runs, but he’s designed for bedroom deeds.

  And, as I’m learning, for exquisite fucking torture. I tip my forehead toward his jeans. “Come on. Take those off.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Stop teasing me,” I beg as my cock twitches.

  “You like being teased,” he says.

  “Tease me with your mouth,” I say, my eyes drifting to my dick.

  “Ask me nicely,” he says.

  “Please, Rafe. Please take your pants off and suck my dick.”

  He undoes them, lets them fall to the floor.

  “Yessss,” I murmur as I admire a pair of tight red boxer briefs. The ones with the rooster design on them.

  “Do you like these? I thought you might.”

  “Love them,” I say in a husky voice that gives away all my desires.

  Then my ruthless tease of a lover strips naked, too, climbs on the bed, and slides his palms up my thighs.

  He pushes my legs apart.

  Desire burns inside me like jet fuel. I don’t know how long I can last. His hands on my thighs are a prelude to fucking. “Rafe, I’m gonna come really soon,” I tell him. “I’m that aroused.”

  One strong hand circles the base of my cock. Lust crashes over me in a punishing wave.

  “I’ve got you. Trust me to fuck you,” he says, then swirls that wicked tongue across the head of my cock.

  Inch by inch, he takes me in. The deeper I go, the more I writhe. Nothing has ever felt better than Rafe taking my cock to the back of his throat.

  “That’s so fucking good,” I murmur.

  He smiles wickedly with my shaft in his mouth. His lips are ludicrously wet, stretched wide by my pulsing shaft. His hand slides between my legs, and he cups my balls and gives them a light squeeze.

  “Fuuuuuck,” I curse.

  Pleasure ricochets through my body, darting up and down my thighs. Before I know it, he’s sucking harder and I’m quivering, writhing, rocking up into his mouth. “Rafe, you got to stop, babe.”

  He obeys, letting me fall from his mouth. But not all the way. He kisses the tip. “Are you sure?”

  I swear if he doesn’t stop, I will detonate. “I’m fucking sure,” I say.

  He pulls back, lust in his irises. “Then tell me what you want. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

  “Fuck me so hard I never forget this night.”

  He pins me down, grinds his hard cock against mine, and annihilates all my senses with a possessive kiss. His lips consume mine, and I don’t want this night to ever end.

  But I will take what I can get.

  Him, just him, for one night only.

  34

  A VERY FILTHY GAME

  Gunnar

  This is a sight.

  Rafe, naked between my thighs, slicking up his fingers with lube. He presses a digit against my ass.

  I lie on the pillows and draw a deep, soldiering breath, telling myself to relax into the sensations. They aren’t entirely unfamiliar.

  Rafe meets my eyes, maybe reading my thoughts or reading my body. “Have you played with your ass before?”

  I wink. “Oh yeah.”

  My enthusiasm makes him grin. “Of course you have, my shameless man,” he says, then pushes in the tip of his finger.

  “Fuck, that’s good,” I rasp out, gazing at the commanding man pleasuring me.

  “Tell me more about what you did. Did you use toys or your fingers?”

  Oh, he’s going to like my answer. But before I can give one, he penetrates me deeper.

  “Yessss,” I murmur.

  That’s real nice. Rafe’s finger inside me makes my skin sizzle.

  “Toys or fingers, Gunnar?” he asks again.

  Right. Questions. I answer through a haze. “Toys, plugs, a dildo recently.”

  He groans salaciously. “You fucked yourself with a dildo?”

  “I fucking did,” I say.

  Rafe thrusts his finger deeper into me, letting me know this pleases him. I let my knees fall open, inviting more of this welcome intrusion. “Did you like it?” he asks.

  “It felt good, but not as good as you right now.”

  His eyes flicker darkly. “Good,” he murmurs. “I would love to watch you fuck yourself.”

  I want to do that for him. See his face as he watches me pleasure myself. “You want me to jack off while I fuck my ass?”

  “I do,” he says, in a gravelly tone, his control fraying.

  Yes. I fucking love that I can push him with words and images. This man worships his control, but I’m the one who makes him bend.

  “Gimme more,” I beg.

  He rumbles yes as he adds another finger.