Billionaire's Contract Engagement (Kings of the Boardroom #3)(23)

He fumbled with the clip and released its hold on her hair. It tumbled down her back, over his hands like a wave. He gathered the strands between his fingers, mesmerized by their silky smoothness.

He drank deeply, not wanting the moment to end. He could spend hours kissing her, but he wanted more. He wanted to work his mouth down the curve of her jaw to her neck. He wanted to peel every layer of clothing from her body and then run his tongue over her soft skin.

He wondered what her br**sts would feel like in his hands and what her ni**les would taste like, how they’d feel as he sucked them into his mouth.

Oh, yes, he’d spent a lot of time wondering about her br**sts. She never wore clothing that could be

deemed too provocative. She was fashionable, yes, but he secretly wished she’d wear something a little more revealing. It was killing him not to get a hint of her full, ripe br**sts.

Soon. Soon, he’d unwrap all of her. He’d possess her. She’d be his.

He needed air and he broke away only long enough to pull oxygen into his starving lungs. She gasped along with him, and then he started at the corner of her mouth and licked and kissed his way across to the other corner.

Her small hands slid up his chest. It was like a heating element sliding over his skin. She left a blazing trail of fierce need in her wake. His entire body came alive, and all she’d done was touch him. Innocently.

They wound up around his neck and then her fingertips just delved into the hair at his nape. He shuddered, and it was all he could do to retain his tight hold on his control.

His body screamed at him to haul her over his shoulder and drag her caveman-style to the bedroom.

He’d rip off her clothes and spend the night taking her over and over until they both succumbed to exhaustion.

His mind yelled at him to be careful. To take it slow. Not to push her so far away that she never returned.

It was that fear of driving her away permanently that finally pulled him back from the brink of insanity.

With great reluctance, he pulled back. His hands were still tangled up in her hair, and he carefully extricated them from the heavy coil that lay over her shoulders.

Her eyes were cloudy, a gorgeous mix of confusion and desire that had him wanting to throw caution to the wind and continue his seduction.

“That,” he whispered, “is what I’ve been wanting to do ever since I saw you across a crowded room six months ago. Now you tell me this has anything to do with Maddox Communications and Reese Enterprises.”

Her hand fluttered to her mouth and she stared at him with shocked awareness.

“Oh, God, Evan. What are we going to do?”

He smiled gently and slowly pulled her hand away from her swollen lips.

“What we’re going to do is get your pitch out of the way tomorrow morning. Whatever happens afterward, we take it as it comes.”

Eight

There was no need for Celia to set her alarm. She never went to sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her senses completely shattered by something as simple as a kiss.

No. That kiss could never ever be called simple.

She’d thought to go over her pitch. Mentally replay everything she wanted to say until it flowed seamlessly through her mind. But all she’d been able to do was lay there and wonder how she was going to manage to keep things with Evan on a strictly professional level.

He kissed like a dream.

He’d make love like a dream.

And the sick thing was she’d never find out.

She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.

Celia, Celia.

The admonishment burned like acid on her tongue. She was walking a very tight, very dangerous line. It was bad enough that she was here with Evan. Sharing a suite with Evan. Her groan was swallowed up by the pillow.

The least she could have done was insisted on a separate room, but that wouldn’t have gone far in convincing his family that they were happily engaged.

Friendship. Okay, she could handle a friendship with Evan. She liked him. He asked her to consider this a personal favor. As a friend. And she’d forget the kiss. Forget that he had made his intention to make love to her abundantly clear.

All she had to do was get through her presentation, go to a rehearsal dinner, wedding and reception with Evan—as his fiancée—and then she could go home and put him firmly back in his neat, tidy little corner.

She struggled out of bed, knowing it would take her the better part of an hour to erase the look of someone who hadn’t slept. Evan had ordered room service to be brought up at eight, and she wanted plenty of time to go over her notes again.

She purposely toned down her looks, choosing subtle makeup. She did nothing to highlight her eyes, which were her best feature. And she pulled her hair back into a tight knot and used hairspray to keep the wispy tendrils from escaping. She wanted no distractions. No sizzling looks. No temptation to do something utterly stupid.

To her immense relief, when she walked out of her bedroom, Evan was in total business mode. He didn’t stare at her like he was set to devour her. He gave her a cursory glance and motioned for her to sit across from him at the dining table where breakfast had already been served.

“We can eat and talk, or we can eat and then talk. Strictly up to you,” he said when she took her seat.

“We can eat and talk,” she said. “I’m not using props or anything, and I planned it to be more conversational than a formal presentation.”