“I don’t care what the press says,” she said firmly, and his gaze drifted down to her throat. He stared at the exposed skin peeking above the top button of her silk blouse. “What do you care about, then?”

  “I want to know how you can be a sex toy mogul and have intimacy issues,” she said, reaching her hand to his chin and forcing him to look up again.

  “Why should I tell you? I’m not your patient anymore,” he said, and there was teasing now in his tone. The toughness was drifting away.

  “But that’s why you’re here. In this office. Needing a therapist.”

  “And that’s why I’m seeing another shrink. For my intimacy issues,” he said with a scoff. “Besides, why does my job have any bearing on my life outside of the office? Are you the same person in here that you were with me last night? Or did you show me another side?” he said, and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek.

  Her eyes floated closed. Her breath fled, and one thing was clear. She wasn’t the same person.

  She was a different woman with him. A wanted woman. And it felt so good, especially as his breath ghosted over her neck and he whispered in her ear, “Did you touch yourself when I was in there?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Not even a little?”

  She shook her head, glad that her eyes were closed because surely they’d give away this lie. He reached for her hand, and brought it to his mouth, drawing her index finger between his lips. Her eyes snapped open.

  “I bet this finger was between your legs,” he whispered, disarming her.

  Her lips parted, but no words came out.

  “And I bet you didn’t finish the job.”

  “I barely touched myself,” she admitted defensively, her skin heating up all over.

  His eyes darkened, and he groaned appreciatively. “When you barely touched yourself, were you thinking about me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And were you thinking about me as your patient?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Were you thinking about me as New York’s most eligible bachelor?” he asked, and she could hear the disdain in his tone. He didn’t like those titles. She wouldn’t like them either.

  “No.”

  “Were you thinking of me as the man who wants to fuck you again?”

  That was it. Her shoulders trembled, and lust took over. “Oh God,” she gasped, and her body was not her own. It was his, and she desperately wanted some kind of relief from the way she ached everywhere, desire pounding inside her, ready to escape.

  “Because that’s who I want to be with you, Michelle with two Ls,” he said, loosening his tie further. Then he moved his hands to her knees. Moaning the second he made contact, she was almost embarrassed that this simplest kind of touch had her pulse racing.

  He dropped to his knees, pushed up her skirt, and spread her legs open. “I have unfinished business with your pussy,” he growled, as he dragged a finger across the outside of her panties.

  His blue eyes were hungry, and he looked as if he wanted to devour her. He lowered his head between her legs, buzzing a hot trail along a thigh. The temperature rose in her so high, she was sure she was giving off heat waves. He kissed the inside of her legs, teasing her as he slowly made his way closer to where she wanted him.

  “Jack,” she moaned.

  “Yes?” he asked, as he continued taking her hormones hostage with his sinful mouth.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “I know,” he said, sounding wickedly pleased. “I told you I would, since you denied me last night.”

  “I’m not denying you now.”

  He moved his mouth from her leg to the wet panel of her panties, planting a kiss on the fabric that had her throbbing. “So many things I want to do to this beautiful pussy. So many ways I want to make you come,” he mused and her skin sizzled from the way he talked to her.

  “I want you to make me come,” she said, spearing her fingers in his soft dark hair, pulling him closer to the place where he could soothe the ache.

  He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching her hot flesh at last. She cried out, then covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Be quiet, Michelle. Even with the noise machine, I’m going to make you come so fucking hard that you might break the sound barrier,” he said, and she was about to call him a cocky bastard until he yanked her panties aside and pressed his lips to her wetness. She couldn’t say cocky bastard, because she could no longer form words. She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe. All she could do was feel. And she felt like she was flying, soaring into a new stratosphere of boundless pleasure as he swept his tongue through her wetness, groaning as he licked her.

  “You taste so fucking good,” he said, then returned to flicking his tongue against her clit.

  “What do I taste like?” she asked, because no one had ever talked to her this way. No one had sung her praises like this man, and she was greedy. He was like dessert without the calories. He was cake and chocolate and everything delicious in the universe. She wanted more, and she had no problem asking for it.

  “Like sex,” he murmured. “You taste like hot sex.”

  She gasped, and shoved a hand through her hair, her head hitting the back of her chair as her body melted into him. She was completely losing herself to the way he touched her. To the intensity of his mouth. To the rhythm of his tongue. He slid his hands under her thighs, gently lifting her legs over his shoulders. She belonged to him like this, spread wide in her office, being licked and kissed and sucked by this man who knew exactly what to do to her.

  This man, whose touch said he craved every inch of her. She was in ecstasy both from the sheer physical intensity of the moment, and from what it meant to her to be wanted like this.

  He pulled back for a second to glance up at her. His eyes blazed darkly. He looked like a man who’d been feasting. “I want you to come on me,” he said in a low, raspy voice. “Let me feel you all over my face. I can’t get enough of you.”

  She was nearly there, and she began matching his movements, rocking faster into his mouth as he returned to her core, caressing her with his talented tongue, kissing her with his fantastic lips, and sending her to the brink as he cupped her ass tightly in his hands. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, gripping her cheeks. As if he couldn’t get close enough to her. He went down on her like a man obsessed. As if he wanted to drink her in, to lap her up, to consume her.

  She let herself be consumed by Jack as he took her over the edge.

  She gave him everything. All of her pleasure. All of her body, as she did what he asked for, coming hard on his face.

  * * *

  “I trust that’s a yes to Gia’s?”

  She breathed out hard. Her eyes were glassy. She looked so damn sexy that all he wanted was to bury his face between her legs again. But restraint was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all. And he knew how to use it. He knew how to play with denial. He planned to. But first, he needed to sort out tonight. She was the only woman he’d wanted to spend any time with since Aubrey had died. He needed to do this right.

  “Meet me there at eight,” he said as he tightened the knot in his tie.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, and you might want to straighten up before your next appointment. You look like a woman who’s been fucked properly.”

  “But you didn’t fuck me properly, Jack,” she said, as she adjusted her skirt.

  He buttoned one of the buttons on her blouse, savoring the soft feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, and the way she shivered from his touch. God, she was so utterly sensual. He wanted to do everything to her. He wanted to explore every inch of her body with his hands, his lips, his tongue, his cock, and with a whole treasure chest of toys. He wanted to give her every kind of orgasm imaginable. To bring her all the bliss in the universe.

  “When I fuck you again, there will be nothing proper about it,” he said in a low voice, leaving her with that hint of what he might do.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Pressure

  Jack arrived at his high-rise midtown office, ready to dive into work for the next few hours. His time away from business for the afternoon had lasted longer than he’d anticipated, but he didn’t regret the hour with Kana, and he definitely didn’t regret the moments with Michelle.

  When Casey finished her meeting with the marketing team—she oversaw the advertising and brand positioning for the company—she joined him in his office, plunking herself down on the eggplant-colored couch that she’d selected when she overhauled his office a year ago, declaring it too dull.

  “A little splash of color makes everything better,” she’d said as the movers lugged in the new couch, and then carried out the old beige one.

  This morning, she’d been meeting with their ad agency, so this was his first chance to sit down with her and lay out the details of the Henry and Marquita issue with Eden. Last night, he’d met with one of their top retailers that boasted a storefront on the Upper East Side as well as a burgeoning online division. But the most profitable line of their business was the handful of under-the-radar BDSM clubs they ran in Manhattan. Those clubs were under threat because a rival politician had decided to play dirty.

  “Here’s the problem,” Jack said as he joined her in the red chair opposite the purple couch. Yes, the red chair was her selection too. “We’ve got Marquita’s brother, Paul Denkler, running for city councilman in District Four. There’s a special election because of an unexpected vacancy.”

  Casey emitted a snoring sound and let her head loll to one side, her eyelids fluttering closed.

  “Yes, I feel the same way about politics,” Jack said, rolling his eyes as Casey ‘woke up.’ “But listen, his opponent is this guy, Jared Conroy, and he’s a complete prick.”

  “Two of my least favorite words paired together,” Casey said.

  “Me too. Trouble is, he’s a former litigator, and he fights below the belt.”

  “Below the belt is a pleasure-only zone,” Casey said, gesturing to her skirt. “I don’t approve of fighting there.”

  “Nor do I,” he said with a laugh.

  Casey twisted her blond hair into a knot and shoved a pencil through it. “So tell me the problem.”

  “The problem is, Conroy is hitting all the right notes the residents want to hear with his clean-up-the-neighborhood platform. And hey, who doesn’t want to clean up New York? Nothing wrong with that. But he’s twisted Denkler’s schools-and-safe-streets campaign into a condemnation of Denkler’s sister’s business.”

  “How are the two even connected?” she asked, scrunching her brow.

  Jack shook his head. “They aren’t, of course. That’s the issue. Conroy plays hard ball, and he’s decided to make the campaign about the BDSM clubs. Conroy has deep pockets. With that money lining his pockets, he’s promising to do a Times Square-style sweep of the—” Jack stopped to sketch air quotes “—tawdry elements. As if the BDSM clubs are causing problems in the area that necessitate a clean up. They’re not, but he’s making it seem like they are, and since the Times Square revamp was so popular, his message is resonating.”

  Casey bared her teeth and crinkled her nose. “Bastard. I hate him already. Nobody fucks with Henry and Marquita, especially after all that Marquita has been through.”

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Jack said. Not only were Henry and Marquita key business customers for Joy Delivered, they were like family. Jack had worked closely with the couple for years, and even donated half the proceeds from one of his company’s products, a small pink pocket-sized vibrator, to breast cancer research, in honor of Marquita. Jack would go to battle with this guy and fight for him on a personal level alone. Add in the business ties they shared, and Jack was all in.

  There was real cause for concern from the domino-like effect of a potential shut down. Henry and Marquita’s reputation for carrying the best selection of vibrators was unrivaled. They were tastemakers in the business of pleasure. Where Henry and Marquita went, so went others. Many online retailers often stocked products based on what the Eden couple showcased and recommended. But on top of that, Jack didn’t like that Conroy was going after one of his business partners with a scare tactic.

  “Besides, Conroy’s totally wrong with the whole the-clubs-are-seedy line. Henry runs the most prestigious BDSM clubs in New York. Have you seen the patrons?” Casey lowered her voice to a whisper, even though it was only the two of them. “They’re all New York’s elite. One of the state senators is a member. I bet Conroy has no clue that the good Senator likes to be whipped and flogged by pretty ladies.”

  Jack laughed. “Bondage and dominance is a God-given right. And so is battery-operated assistance. Anyway, I want to help them because it’s the right thing to do for them, and because helping them helps us. Henry’s backing his brother-in-law, of course, and he’s asking if we can get behind him too.”

  Casey slammed a fist onto the arm of the purple couch. “I’ll stage a march on anyone who dares to keep floggers and whips out of the bedroom.”

  “Or sex dungeons, as the case may be,” Jack said dryly.

  “That too,” Casey said, her blue eyes wide and enraged. “You should be able to do whatever you want between consenting adults in a sex dungeon without politicians getting involved. Want me to make signs? Picket? Launch a PR campaign?”

  Jack pushed his hands down, as if to say let’s take it slow. “One step at a time. For now I think it’s best if we stay off the radar, and Henry agrees. I think we should put up some money and see if that can help Denkler regain some traction with his schools-and-safe-streets campaigns. Get the focus off the clubs, since that’s not what it’s about, but in so doing, we protect them and Henry’s business, and our business. And the real issues become important ones again.”

  She nodded. “Absolutely. I don’t want anyone messing with our business, Jack,” she said. While Joy Delivered was their company and he loved every second of running it, the partnership had started with his sister. She’d approached Jack about joining forces after she graduated from business school.

  “You’re going to think this is crazy, but I know what I want to be when I grow up,” she’d said, her mortarboard in hand. Jack had just completed his service with the army, and after his time stationed in Europe, he was Stateside again. Eager for the “what’s next in his life,” he’d jumped on the chance to build a business from the ground up. His sister brought her natural passion; he brought his business mind. And, of course, an avid appreciation for the female body and all the ways that women could experience pleasure. He’d been a lucky man—lucky with the ladies, and lucky in business.

  Until Aubrey, when luck ran out, and everything unraveled by his simple inability to tell her the truth.

  The way things ended was a stone in his chest, heavy and unyielding.

  “How did your appointment go today?”

  Jack blinked, returning to the here and now, and the question Casey had asked.

  “The one with Dr. Milo?” Casey said, rolling her hands, as if to jog his memory.

  “It was fine, but I don’t want to get into the details.”

  She parked her hands on her hips. “You’re so closed off sometimes, Jack.”

  “Yes,” he said, pointedly. “I know. It’s called privacy. You should try it sometime.”

  “That did not compute. You must be speaking a foreign language.”

  He laughed and shook his head. His sister was relentless. She was also an open book. She always wanted to talk about things, to discuss them, to have them out in the open. The polar opposite of their parents. But he wasn’t going to open up to her about the reason why Michelle wasn’t his shrink.

  “So, how was Dr. Milo? Was she as amazing as they say?”

  “Yes,” he said, keeping the smirk to himself as he gave the barest of answers, and yet one that was completely truthful. She was amazing, but in a different way than Casey was asking. Not only was Michelle clever and sharp, she was stunning. The woman was primed for passion, bathed in sensuality. She knew her way around her own body, clearly. She knew what brought her pleasure, and she was willing to give herself to him and let him take her there too.

  No inhibitions, only openness. The things he could do with her.

  “Well, I hope you and she start to dig into what’s weighing you down up here,” she said, tapping her skull as she stood. “And here too,” she said, lowering her voice as she touched her heart. “I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” he said insistently.

  “No. You’re not happy. You’re busy. Don’t confuse the two,” she said, then dropped a chaste kiss on his cheek, and sauntered out.

  She was right, of course. She was always right. He was a man who filled his nights and days. If he didn’t, the past would try to chain him up.

  With Michelle, he hadn’t felt chained. He hadn’t felt guilty. He’d simply felt like one mistake didn’t have to define him.

  Like he could move on.

  Whatever the hell that meant.

  * * *

  She wanted to shower. She wanted to shave her legs. She wanted to primp and prep and prime herself for Jack. But Shayla had another emergency, so Michelle was going to have less than thirty minutes to get ready for dinner once this appointment ended.

  Shayla dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking. “I don’t know if I can do it. He’s planning on it tonight. Expecting it. He told me he wants me to wear a red teddy.”

  Michelle nodded sympathetically, as much over the red teddy request—she preferred a matching set of bra and panties to any sort of teddy contraption—as for the latest demand from Shayla’s straying husband.

  “Are you going to?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “He thinks that’s how we’re going to get our sexual mojo back,” Shayla said, disdain lacing her words. “As if it’s as simple as lingerie.”

  “The simpler answer would be for him to remain faithful. You might find that more alluring.”

  “Yes,” Shayla said, holding out her hands to emphasize the obviousness of that answer. “Yes. I would.”