Sleeping with the Boss (Anderson Brothers, #1)(47)

She almost giggled at his boardroom business voice, but bit her lip so he’d keep going.

“This is by no means the end of our collaboration on the Claire Project, but it is, sadly, the closing transaction of our business trip.” He ran his hands tantalizingly down the inside of her thighs, then back to her knees. This time she did giggle. He answered with an arch of his eyebrow, then continued. “Therefore, I would like you to be the boss this time.”

She snorted, which wasn’t very sexy, but she couldn’t help it. His playfulness was amusing, and hot as hell. “I will gladly assume that position.”

And that did it. They both busted out laughing then. With a wave of his hand, he indicated her vulnerable state, legs apart on the table in front of him, feet on the arms of his chair. “I think you already have.”

Still laughing, she put a finger to her lips and pointed at the pilot’s cabin.

He caught his breath. “No, it’s okay. He has on headphones and is under order to let us know before he comes out. Anderson policy. We sometimes conduct business during flights.”

She conjured her most serious face. “I thought that’s what we were doing, Mr. Anderson.”

Then it was his turn to snort—well, it was more like a guffaw. “You’re right. I am awaiting your orders.”

No way. She wasn’t much of a dirty talker and this was out of her comfort zone. He must have seen her reticence, because he reached out and ran his hands down her legs and trailed his fingers up her belly to her breasts, where he stroked her until her nipples hardened and sent bolts of heat straight between her legs. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, leaning forward to swirl his tongue around her nipple.

His tongue was so hot and felt perfect, but it wasn’t enough. “Touch me.”

His mouth hardened into a smile against her breast. “Where?”

Dammit. He was killing her. “Between my legs.”

He leaned back in his chair. “How?”

She made a growly sound of frustration. At least he hadn’t made her get anatomically specific. “With your tongue.”

His sexy grin emboldened her. She looked down at his erection and grinned back. “While touching yourself.”

A surprised look crossed his face followed by that signature eyebrow arch. “Hopefully not with my own tongue.”

She busted out laughing but her amusement turned to desire when he wrapped his hand around himself and began a slow, deliberate pumping action. It was hard for her to sit still. “That is so hot.”

“Really? This turns you on?”

She nodded, mouth dry.

“As much as this?” He pushed her knees farther apart, her feet still on the arms of his chair, then leaned forward and flicked the tip of his tongue over her most sensitive part. She gasped, and he did it again. This time, she moaned.

“That’s what I thought.” Using both hands, he parted her and looked up at her face. The cool air against her wet skin sent a jolt of heat through her, and the thought of how exposed she was caused her to squirm. The table creaked underneath her.

“Will, I need…”

“I know.” He lowered his head and ran his talented tongue from bottom to top several times while she held on to the edge of the table for dear life.

The table creaked again as he fell into a rhythm that drove her wild. One hand splayed across her belly and the other wrapped around himself. She angled her body to give him better access and threw her head back, focusing on the texture and pressure of his tongue as the waves of desire grew and filled her from head to toe.

When he closed his mouth over her and concentrated on the one spot that made her wild, that was it. With only a few calculated circles of his tongue, she shattered apart, calling his name. She was completely lost, oblivious to anything but his touch and the passion rolling through her in waves.

Crack!

The table tilted and she tumbled onto his lap. Their bodies collided, causing both of them to freeze. Knees on either side of his hips in the wide, comfortable chair, she sat astride his lap, completely immobile except for the tiny aftershock tremors still rolling through her.

There was no sound except for the hum of the plane engines and their heavy breathing as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“That would be a Claire-ism,” she said.

“Or fate,” he replied.

“We broke the table.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

She slid forward and back over his erection and he groaned. “I hope you brought some supplies back with you, Mr. Anderson.”

He reached down and grabbed his shorts from the floor, fishing in the pocket. “Lucky for you, I did.”

“Lucky for both of us.”

He pulled her down against his chest and took her lips in an insistent, charged kiss. “We are lucky, Claire. The luckiest people I know.”





Chapter Sixteen


By the time they landed, Will had a new definition for lucky. Claire teased him about being the boss, but hell, he felt like the king of the world.

He slid into the limo buzzing like he’d just run the Ironman. His whole body hummed with endorphins and something else—happiness. For the first time in a very long time, Will was truly happy, and he owed it all to the woman in the seat next to him. He reached over and took her hand.