IN BED WITH THE BOSS

“Then take my sweater off,” he instructed.

But she felt so weak that she couldn’t have moved from the spot, drowning in sweet anticipation.

“No.” He smiled. “So you’re going to defy me, are you, Vivian? You’re going to force me to strip for you?”

The roles were now reversed and, wordlessly, she nodded, watching with unbearable excitement as he peeled the sweater off and tossed it aside, then began to unbuckle the belt of his black jeans, his eyes not leaving her face.

He kicked his shoes off, then unzipped the trousers slowly, provocatively, wincing very slightly as they rasped down over the undisguisable evidence of how aroused he was, and despite her hunger, her excitement, color flared in Vivian’s cheeks and he smiled.

“Am I making you feel shy?” he purred

“A little.” she replied.

He slid the jeans down over the hard, muscular shafts of his thighs, kicking them off impatiently, until he was wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, their silken sheen emphasizing the hard outline of his erection. With a sinful smile he slid them off and Vivian gave an involuntary gasp.

Totally unselfconscious in his nakedness, he came to lie on the bed beside her, but he didn’t touch her and she turned to him, a little pout of frustration crumpling her lips. His eyes were slitted, the thick, dark lashes hiding all but a steely gleam.

“Your turn now.” he said.

“But I want you to undress me-” He shook his head. “Next time,” he promised.

“No. This time.”

He leaned over her, sensing the battle and wondering whose nerve would break first, and recognising from the implacable light of determination in her eyes that it would be him. For a man used to winning, it excited him beyond reason and his mouth curved almost cruelly.

“So that’s the way you want it, is it?” he murmured.

His touch seemed to burn sweet, pure fire on her skin as he began to remove her clothes with enchanting yet frustrating precision. The damp shirt was discarded and then he unclipped her bra, tossing the flimsy piece of lace aside, his fingertips lingering on each breast, ignoring her sighing little objection when they did no more but whisper and tease.

He eased the trousers down over her pale, milky thighs and then skimmed the lacy little thong the same way. And only then did he lean over her, blotting out the light which streamed in through the windows, promising so much with the lean, hard contours of his body, yet his tense face yielding no emotion as he stared down at her.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“You are every man’s fantasy come to living, breathing life,” he said unsteadily. But the beautiful mouth was unsmiling as he bent his lips to her breast. A pierce of longing so sharp that it came close to pain shot through her, her head falling helplessly back against the pillow, her eyes closed as his fingertips began to weave their magic on her body.

“Scott” she choked, and wondered if she sounded as vulnerable as she felt at that moment.

“Tell me,” he urged, lifting his head. “Or show me.”

Blindly, she reached her arms up to him, pulling him down, wanting his kiss, and when it came it was everything a kiss should be-seeking, urgent, satisfy-ing and yet curiously unsatisfying, leaving her wanting more. And more still. Giving her a fleeting premonition that whatever Scott McCall gave her it would never be enough.

His hand moved over the slight swell of her belly and then down to the juncture of her thighs, finding the moist, heated centre of her, hearing her helpless little cry.

She was like malleable clay beneath his expert touch, but he was doing all the giving and suddenly the game of power and control seemed unimportant.

She reached out and took him in her hand, enjoying his automatic little jerk of pleasure as she began to move her palm softly over his silken hardness.

“What are you trying to do?” he gasped. “Kill me?”

If ‘orgasm’ was translated from the French as ‘a little death’ then, yes, she would like to give him the most slow, pleasurable one imaginable, but he shook his head, his face tight with tension.

“Not now.” He wanted to join with her, to feel the most basic communion of all-the melding of flesh and of senses.

He pushed into her before she was expecting it and her eyes flew open, a delicious slow heat beginning to spread over her.

“Scott….”

“What?” he whispered back and began to move slowly, his eyes locking hers, a soft smile making him look almost vulnerable.

She had forgotten this intimacy-it had been a long time-but she had never been roused to this kind of pitch before, either, not even within the context of a long-term relationship. She had said ‘I love you’ to a man before at just this moment, but now she realised that those could be words said as convention, not because you felt as though you would die if you didn’t say them.

She wanted to say them now, to Scott, and she had to bite them back, telling herself that she couldn’t possibly love him. She didn’t know him well enough to love him-it was just great sex, that was all.

“Scott!”

“Mmm?”

Did he sense that already she was so close to the edge? Did her body relay that to him and he respond with long, hard strokes which felt as though they were piercing her heart itself?

“Scott, it’s-”

It was too late, for her and for him. He felt the great, swamping rush of pleasure before his world exploded, to the sensation of her sweet, pulsing flesh and her choked little cry, and the astonishing sound of him saying her name, over and over and over again.

———-

Vivian watched the man who slept beside her. The rumpled duvet lay skimming his narrow hips, leaving his torso naked, and his chest rose and fell with the deep, rhythmic breaths of a truly relaxed sleep.

She stared at his face. The dark lashes formed two perfect arcs which rested like feathers on the sculpted features and his lips were very slightly parted, almost begging to be kissed.

But she didn’t lean across and kiss them. After what they had just shared that seemed like an intimacy too far. A wave of dark hair curled over his forehead and she wanted to wind it around her finger. But she didn’t do that, either.

She knew the big things about him-that he was intelligent and dynamic and powerful and that he was an achiever. That he drove a fancy car and lived in a big house and didn’t believe in marriage, which probably accounted for why he had never settled down.

The big things, yes, but not the little things. Like whether he hated being woken from sleep, or whether he drank tea in bed in the mornings. Or whether…

Dark eyes flickered lazily open and he gave a slow smile, running a reflective finger along the curved outline of her naked body. It was a moment before he spoke and, when he did, his voice sounded reflective.

“That was pretty amazing, Vivian” he said.

Suddenly, stupidly, she felt shy-as if she were being given marks out of ten for performance. The finger moved to tilt her chin. “Wasn’t it?” he prompted.

“You know it was.”

“But you’re regretting it?” he asked.

She felt her body stiffen. “Why should I?”

“Because you look a little… wary… I guess.”

That was because she was. She had taken as a lover a man who she could see as being nothing more than that. A passionate man with coolly assessing eyes which promised everything and yet promised nothing. Was she setting herself up for automatic heartbreak?

After the way he had left her the first time, shouldn’t she have given it more thought than she had done, rather than letting him kiss away any lingering doubts? But passion was a strange and capricious emotion. Normal rules did not apply. And, besides, it was too late now.

“Do I?” she said lightly.

“You know you do-now wipe that frown away and come here.” He caught hold of her and brought her face down to kiss him, so that her hair dangled and tickled at his chest. “I must look a fright,” she groaned, jerking her head back.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Liar!”

“But I never lie,” he reminded her softly.

He rubbed his nose against her neck and breathed in. “Mmm. I love the way you smell. It distracts me a lot… especially at the office when you stand close to me”

“You never told me, Why?”

“It turned me on, if you must know.”

“Oh” she said shakily, because something in the way he was looking at her was making her feel so wanton.

“And I was worried that you’d take great care not to come close to me again if I told you.” His eyes grew smoky as they captured hers. “Would you like to take a shower with me, Vivian?”