Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(33)

“There are condoms in the bedside drawer,” she said, hoping to urge him onward.

“Patience,” he said, having gained control of his voice.

“No,” she said, though she knew it was pointless to argue—he won the race, and he wasn’t going to give up control.

And so on and on it went. He would take her to the brink and retreat just long enough for her head to clear so that she was able to fully grasp how totally and completely frustrated he was making her with the ceaseless torture. He’d allow her to touch him, but only a little. Then he’d groan and push her hands and mouth away and renew his measured assault. He wasn’t kidding about the “in charge” business. He wasn’t being stereotypically dominant, though. In fact, it was all very disciplined and controlled and slow—unlike their past couplings. But he was definitely playing her like a violin.

Then, finally—finally—after it seemed hours had passed, he had two fingers inside her, stroking her. She lifted her head up from the pillow, enough to make eye contact. He nodded a little, as if acknowledging a message she wasn’t consciously sending, and pressed his thumb down on her clit. The cry that ripped from her throat sounded otherworldly to her own ears, like it was coming from someone—or something—else.

The aftershocks were still quaking though her when she became dimly aware of him rolling on a condom, and then he was pushing inside her with a guttural cry of his own. She surged up to meet him, closing her eyes tightly and wishing she never had to leave this nest, this cocoon where nothing else mattered.

…

It was a long time before Jack came back down to earth. He’d intended to give her what she needed—a slow, attentive f*ck to take her mind off her mother. A caring f*ck, even, if he were that kind of person. He’d wanted to show her that she was worth paying attention to. Because whatever happened at the end of this incredible friends-with-benefits thing, she was a good person. She deserved to be happy and well-treated.

The ironic part was that he’d planned the whole thing out, insisted that he was in charge. And he had been. He’d purposefully resisted when she’d urged him to hurry, drawn it out, a slow, deliberate torture. And yet…he had a nagging sense that a person who was so calculating—a person in charge—should not be left feeling this positively gutted with pleasure.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Good idea.” If he had any hope of getting out of here without jumping her again, it was probably smart for her to use that mouth for something banal. Like talking.

Shooting him a bewildered look, she scrambled to a sitting position and put her T-shirt back on. It didn’t help. She still looked like she’d been f*cked within an inch of her life.

“How did you discover Carl was stealing from the company?”

Well, that was unexpected. But still, a nice chat about Winter Enterprises’ problems could be just the distraction the doctor ordered. “I was working through a stack of mail late one night a couple weeks ago. Seth was on vacation, so we’d had a temp in. An invoice addressed to Carl mistakenly made its way into my pile, and I opened it before I noticed it wasn’t meant for me. It was an invoice for lumber.”

“Is that suspicious?”

“Not inherently. But I know the names of all our suppliers. All. Like, down to where we get our toilet paper. And I didn’t recognize this one.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah. It was called A-plus Construction, which is not a name I know.”

“And I would guess, being a developer, you know the construction industry pretty well. Plus, that’s, like, a name you would make up if you were inventing a fake construction company.”

“Exactly. And the address was a P.O. box, and there was no phone number.”

She groaned. “And nothing on Google, I assume?”

“Nope.”

“And the company turns out be registered to Carl?”

He nodded, glad she hadn’t asked how he’d figured that out, because he’d called in a few favors.

“Funny,” she said, scooting off the bed and heading for the kitchenette. “It all came to light because of a misdirected invoice. Because of a temp who screwed up.”

“Yes, and I’m aware of how stupid I am.”

“Not stupid. You trusted him.”

“I should have known better.” It was hard to say aloud. “There should be more than one person’s eyeballs on incoming invoices. Anyway, lesson learned. Of course, that set me off looking at everything. If there’s one fake supplier, why not more?” He paused. He still hated talking about it. She’d been nothing but kind, but his disability was a shortcoming. A serious one. “Everything takes me ten times as long as it should because I’m always second-guessing myself. Part of me still wants to think he’s doing some kind of creative accounting that I don’t understand, something that benefits us. Something he hasn’t bothered to tell me about.”

She shook her head from her vantage point by the sink. “Sorry, but I don’t think so.”

He sighed. As much as it sucked, it was kind of a relief to have someone else confirm his worst suspicions.

“Coffee?” she asked. “I’m making some.”

“No thanks. I should get to work.”

She turned, coffee pot in hand. “Would it be okay if I looked around for you?”