Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(36)

“No relationships.”

“I told you we’re not having a relationship. We’re having an—”

“Entanglement.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever you call it, we are having a kind of relationship. One that has an expiration date. Thursday morning, to be precise.”

None of this was news, so Cassie just kept her eyebrows raised.

“Today is Monday,” he said.

“You have a talent for stating the obvious.”

He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “Tomorrow is the company Christmas party, which is a drag, but my presence is required. The next night is Wednesday. That leaves two more nights.”

“Until we’re off to Muskoka,” Cassie said, leaving the rest unspoken. And then it’s over.

“That leaves two nights,” he said, still acting like she wasn’t part of the conversation, “for sex.”

She recoiled a little. He was only saying what she’d been thinking, but it was a little offensive to hear it stated so plainly and mercenarily.

“Two nights of the most mind-blowing sex imaginable.”

Well, okay, maybe not so terribly offensive. She bit her lip and ducked her head, no longer able to withstand the icy-blue heat of his gaze.

“And you have a tiny bed and a crazy mother.” He tipped her chin up. She wanted to grab the finger that was currently burning her chin and stuff it in her mouth. No, strike that—she wanted to vault over the island and jump him.

Forcing her to look at him, he didn’t change his expression. It was still that neutral blue ocean. “I rest my case.”

She swallowed. “I suppose you have a big bed.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I have an extremely big bed.”

She feigned a casual shrug. “Well, if you’re going to break a rule, you might as well be as efficient as possible and break it thoroughly.”

“Thoroughly and often.”

“Where is your bedroom?” He started to get up, but she held up a hand. “Don’t show me, tell me.”

“Third floor.”

He stood on the kitchen side of the island, so she was closer to the stairs. She leaned back slowly as if considering, lazily stretching her arms.

Then she turned and bolted for the stairs, shouting, “First one to the top gets to be in charge!”

…

The nice thing about “losing” to Cassie, thought Jack, while he still had the ability to string together a coherent thought, was that it always managed to work in his favor. The two times she’d won control in this silly but crazily erotic game they played, he’d ended up with her lips wrapped around his cock. She seemed to like winning on principle more than she cared about how things played out afterward.

Knowing he was going to lose their little race, he’d given her a few minutes’ head start, and damned if he hadn’t come upstairs to find her naked inside his shower.

“I love this shower,” she said, somehow managing to make herself understood with his cock in her mouth.

He wasn’t in the mood for talking, so he just let his head fall back against the glass and lost himself in the sensation of her lips gliding up and down his shaft as her hands played with his balls.

“It’s so big,” she said a few seconds later.

She stopped moving then, though she still held him in her mouth, and there was a delay while they both processed the double entendre, which he was pretty sure had been unintentional.

“I was totally talking about you!” she squealed as he pulled her up to standing.

“You little minx,” he growled, falling to his knees in front of her. “I’m going to make you stop talking.”

“Though this is a big shower,” she said, laughing. “It’s almost as big as—”

He licked her like an ice cream cone, which had the desired effect of halting her speech. He was a little sorry the shower diluted her musky sweet taste. Swirling his tongue around her clit, he stroked her impossibly soft folds with his fingers, eventually letting one of them slide inside her.

She stayed quiet for a while then. Well, that wasn’t exactly accurate—she stopped using words at that point. And he didn’t count it against her when she started gasping his name. No, he loved hearing his name on her lips. Every “Jack,” she breathed seemed to ratchet up the tension in him another notch. He was restless and hot, and not from the shower. Consumed by her but distracted by her at the same time.

Enough. He’d been intending to make her come in the shower, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I have to be inside you,” he said, turning off the twin shower heads as he stood. When she opened her mouth, he placed his hand over it—not hard, but enough to convey that he wanted her to remain silent.

Throwing a bath sheet over her shoulders, he used it to pull her to him—so they were both wrapped in the white cotton—and nipped the side of her neck, which was reddened from the heat of the shower. She grabbed his ass and he kissed her, hoping she could taste on his lips how delicious she was.

“I thought you were going to—”

“Shut up,” he said, kissing her again but propelling her so she walked backward into the bedroom, both of them still wrapped in the bath sheet. He reached for a condom as he tipped her back on the bed, displaying the whole mass of her pink, damp skin. Kneeling over her, he picked up where he’d left off in the shower, licking her clit as he unwrapped and rolled on the condom. When she raised her knees to her chest, he kneeled, hooking her legs over his shoulders, and slid inside her.