A Billionaire Between the Sheets (17 page)

Olivia's head lolled back, and her hands grasped his shoulders as if she were falling. He knew how she felt. He felt as if he were falling—free-falling. And while the thrill was like nothing he'd ever experienced, he couldn't help but be concerned about the landing. But not enough to release what he held in his hands. Or what he wanted to hold.

While he deepened his nipple-kisses, his hand slipped down her cinched waist, over the crossed ribbon, to the strip of her hair. He traced the plump seam with one finger before dipping into the heat beneath. Lifting his mouth from her breast, he kissed his way up her arched neck as his finger traveled her hot, moist folds. Then, unable to resist the temptation a moment longer, he slid his finger inside, where she was wet and slick and more velvety than the material of the corset.

Her breath caught and held as he worked his thumb over her clitoris and slowly thrust his finger inside. When she was whimpering, he added another finger. Then one more. Her hands tightened into fists on his shirt, and she tugged as if demanding release. He flicked his thumb faster until her body tightened, including the muscles around his fingers. The only sound she made when she hit orgasm was a startled puff of air. He waited for her to sag against him before he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the desk. He set her on the edge. Then, with one swipe, cleared it off.

He expected her to comment; instead she remained silent—the only sound her labored breathing. She watched with hooded eyes as he slipped off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. When he dropped the shirt to the floor and reached for his belt buckle, he realized that he'd never stripped for a woman before. They usually stripped him. It was exciting and a little disconcerting. He'd never cared how a woman viewed his body. But damned if he didn't care now. And when he was completely naked, with the condom he'd taken from his wallet in hand, he was surprised how much he cared.

Deacon stood before her like a green kid with a fragile ego, waiting for one word of praise.

He didn't get it.

O
livia was struck speechless. She had seen Deacon's naked body before, but both times had been too brief for her to truly appreciate the splendor. His shoulders were broad. His biceps bunched. And his chest defined and sprinkled with dark hair. Hair that bisected a hard, flat stomach and ended in a display of virile manhood that left Olivia more breathless than her tightly laced corset. If she had thought his penis was big the first time she'd seen it, that was nothing compared to how it looked now. This time it was fully erect and boldly jutted from his body. Just looking at it caused wet heat to flood the spot between her legs.

“So have you changed your mind?”

At Deacon's words she glanced up and met his gaze. The uncertainty she saw there surprised her. She'd expected him to be as controlling in bed as he was in life. Instead he seemed hesitant and vulnerable. Which gave her confidence.

She shook her head, then leaned back on the desk and slowly spread her legs. “Have you changed yours?”

A growl came from deep in his chest, and in less than a second he'd stepped between her legs and was kissing her hungrily. He tasted like the richest of coffee—dark, strong, and flavorful—and he affected her the same way. Adrenaline surged as her brain focused on every place he touched.

The heat of his fingers in her hair. The slide of his tongue in her mouth. The strength of his thighs against the inside of hers. But mostly she focused on the brush of his erect penis against her hot center. The nudge of smooth, moist tip had her hips lifting and her legs wrapping around his waist. There was a brief, heavenly breach of her womanhood before he groaned and pulled back.

“Wait, baby,” he breathed as he opened the condom. But before he could slip it on, she sat up and took it from him, fisting him in her hand as she slid it over the tip. She stroked his length until he moaned, then guided him home.

With his eyes closed and sweat beading on his forehead, he took his time, easing in inch by stiff inch. But she didn't want restraint. She wanted Deacon unleashed. She wanted him hard. And she wanted him deep. Hooking her heels around his waist, she thrust her hips up and took him whole. Deeply embedded, he flung his head back and gave her exactly what she wanted. His next thrust was hard and deep. As was the one after. And the one after that.

He gripped her hips and took control, and she let him, giving herself more freely than she had ever given herself before. When the orgasm hit, she felt like a bolt of satin being unfurled. She soared. Billowed. Then drifted down in shimmery waves. Above her, Deacon blurred, and the last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness was his passion-filled eyes.

She blinked awake to find the passion replaced with concern as he tapped her cheek with his hand.

“Breathe, Livy, breathe.”

She tried to obey, but couldn't. There was no oxygen left in the air. Just Deacon. Sexy, disheveled Deacon. She smiled and closed her eyes, but then opened them again when he jerked her to a sitting position.

“Damn it, Olivia! How the hell do you get this thing off?” He fumbled with the ribbon on the corset. Finally he gave up, jerked open the top drawer of the desk, pulled out a pair of scissors, and carefully, but efficiently, snipped it off her. The rush of air that filled her lungs was a relief. She sucked in a good three gulps before she noticed the ruined corset.

Thinking about all the work she'd put into it, her heart sank. “I guess it's too late to tell you that the actual laces are in the back?”

“Jesus,” he whispered before he pulled her into his arms. “You scared the shit out of me.” Okay, so maybe a ruined corset wasn't that big a deal. She smiled against his hard chest as he rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“Now that would set the office to gossiping. Not to mention the tabloids.” She couldn't help but run her tongue over the nipple that topped his defined pectoral muscle. He tasted a little sweaty and a whole lot sexy. And when his nipple beaded, she took a little nibble.

His hand stopped rubbing. “You should know by now that I don't care what people think.”

She did know that. It was just another thing she liked about him. Once he'd made a decision, he went with it. To hell with what anyone thought. Which pretty much explained what she was doing on his desk wearing nothing but purple high heels. For some reason Deacon had decided that he wanted her. And she had easily fallen in with his plans.

She waited for the guilt and self-condemnation to set in, but all she felt was happy. Happy. Content. And extremely satisfied. A thought struck her, and she stopped brushing her lips over his nipple and pulled back. “Did you come?”

His eyes looked desire-drugged and confused. “What?”

“Before I passed out, did you reach orgasm?”

He blinked. “The way your mind works is truly confusing. Yes, I came. But it would've been even better if the woman who gave me the amazing orgasm hadn't stopped breathing.”

The
amazing
made her feel light-headed all over again. “Amazing?”

He grinned. “Damn amazing.”

Her gaze lowered. For a man who had just had an orgasm, he looked raring to go again. And just the sight of his hard, smooth length had her not far behind. “Well,” she said as she took him in hand, “I guess we could try it again without the corset.”

One of the nice things about having sex with the boss was that you didn't have to worry about getting in trouble for missing work. Although once Olivia was completely sated by three orgasms, she couldn't help bringing work up.

“So have Jason and Kelly discovered anything else odd about the accounts? I would ask Kelly, but she seems to have switched loyalties.”

Deacon adjusted a throw pillow under his head and then caught Olivia before the movement caused her to roll off the edge of the narrow couch. “I hate this damned couch. We should've gone to my office.”

She giggled and cuddled closer. “I don't know. It worked out kind of nicely just a few moments ago.”

“Because you were on top. If your butt had been pressed against this hard-assed cushion, you would've changed your mind. I think I have bruises.” He absently kissed the top of her head before answering her question. “Yes, Kelly and Jason found a lot of inconsistencies. As of now it looks like the total is going to be around a million.”

Olivia reared up so quickly that she fell off the couch and landed on the floor. “Dollars? Someone has stolen a million dollars from the company?”

“It looks that way.” He sat up and held out a hand, but she was too upset to take it.

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“We”—he sent her a pointed look—“aren't going to do anything. I'm going to turn this over to the feds. We aren't talking about small change anymore, Olivia. People who steal that kind of money can do some pretty desperate things. But I think we've found enough that it won't take long for the FBI to pinpoint the culprit.”

“Do you think we can get the money back?”

He pulled her onto his lap. “Probably not, but at least we won't be losing any more.” He traced a finger up her arm, over her shoulder, and down to a spot right above her nipple. “I like your mole.”

“That is not a mole.” She slapped at his hand. “According to my mother, it's a beauty mark I've had since I was born.”

“I didn't say it wasn't beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed it, causing her nipple to tighten beneath the heat of his breath. Were four orgasms in a row even possible? Unfortunately, she didn't get to find out before Kelly tapped on the door.

“Mr. Beaumont?” It sounded like her mouth was pressed against the crack of the door. “Sorry to bother you, but I'm leaving and I wanted to let you know that your father called three times.”

Completely ignoring Kelly, he kissed his way up to Olivia's ear, where he did a gentle flick that had her insides melting. Unfortunately, she couldn't ignore the urgent part of Kelly's message.

“Shouldn't you call him back?” she asked breathlessly.

“He probably just needs some money.”

“But if he's called three times, it might be an emergency.”

He released a groan and moved her from his lap. “Fine, but remember where I was.” He rolled to his feet and went in search of his cell phone, calling to Kelly on his way past the door. “Thanks, Kelly! Have a good night.”

There was a pause, followed by a giggle. “You too.”

Olivia blushed and covered her face with her hands. Great. She had just gotten over the stigma that came with being the boss's daughter. If word got out about this, everyone in the office would think that she was now trying to sleep her way into the new boss's good graces.

“What did you need, Dad?” Deacon sat down in the chair behind the desk as if he weren't naked…and completely hot. When he noticed her looking at him, he smiled and winked. The smile dropped a second later.

“Yes, I'll send you some money.” He glanced at Olivia. “No, not yet.” His scowl deepened. “How would Francesca know about that?”

Olivia felt her spine stiffen as Deacon swiveled the chair around and continued in a hushed voice that she couldn't hear—no matter how much she strained to do so. Was this the same Francesca who had repeatedly texted him? Again the image of a beautiful Italian woman dressed in a low-cut peasant blouse that displayed her plentiful breasts popped into Olivia's head. But this time the woman wasn't squishing grapes as much as feeding them to Deacon. Compared to a lush, bodacious Italian, Olivia felt like pale, flat-chested chopped liver. Stupid chopped liver because she'd believed Deacon when he'd said that he didn't have a girlfriend.

Of course he had a girlfriend. How could you not have a girlfriend when you looked like he did? And when your father was the biggest womanizer in Louisiana? He probably didn't have just one girlfriend. He probably had an entire harem. Suddenly Olivia felt like she wanted to throw up. Instead she put on her business face and searched for her clothes. As she drew nearer to the desk, she could hear more of the conversation.

“Look, I need to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow after I get into town.”

Deacon was leaving? The news was almost as bad as finding out that he had a girlfriend. She'd known that he wasn't planning on staying in San Francisco forever. But she had thought he would stay until the collections were complete. Instead he was waltzing out as quickly as he'd waltzed in. And had she thought that he was going to stay indefinitely? Yes. That's exactly what she'd started to think. Or at least long enough that desk sex wouldn't make her feel like a sleazy slut.

She located her shirt crushed under a design book and stapler and shook it out with a snap just as Deacon hung up and swiveled back around. His gaze wandered over her, and his eyes turned steamy.

“Come here,” he said in a husky voice that made her want to drop the shirt and walk straight into his arms. The feeling fizzled when the image of his grape-stomping girlfriend popped into her head. No doubt Francesca followed every order, but Olivia wasn't going to—at least not anymore. She really hated the feeling of disappointment that welled up inside of her.

“I need to get back to work.” Since he'd destroyed her corset, she pulled on her shirt without undergarments.

“At six o'clock in the evening?”

“I like working late. So you're leaving?” She wanted to sound nonchalant, but instead she sounded bitchy and panicked. And she was bitchy and panicked. Bitchy because she felt like a cheap slut, and panicked because the company was about to become her sole responsibility again.

The leather chair creaked as he leaned back, completely unconcerned with his nakedness as he glanced at his watch. “Actually, I was planning on leaving this evening. But since I missed the flight, I'll have to see if I can reschedule for the morning.”

Biting back the words she wanted to fling at him, she quickly buttoned her shirt, and in her haste she did it all wrong. There was a good six-inch disparity between one side and the other. Before she could fix things, the leather squeaked and suddenly Deacon stood in front of her.

“You want to tell me what happened in the last few seconds to have you in such a fluster?” Brushing her hands away, he unbuttoned her shirt and buttoned it correctly. The man was like a space heater, his hot fingers branding her bare skin.

“Nothing happened,” she said as she tried to keep her gaze off his nakedness. It wasn't easy when his naked chest seemed to fill her entire vision. She would've looked down at her toes, but something else blocked that view. So she turned her head and looked out the window. “I just need to get back to work.”

He turned her chin with his finger and tipped it up. There was a sparkle of humor in his eyes that really annoyed her. “I'm going to make a guess and say that you heard the name Francesca and assumed the worst.”

“I wasn't thinking any such thing,” she lied through her teeth. “It makes no difference to me if you have some Italian girlfriend at home.” She pulled away from his heated finger. “But don't expect the same from me. I'm an adult woman with her own mind who understands that what happened here was nothing more than an office fling—”

Her words were cut short by a deep, wet kiss that brought her to her toes and had her arms looping around his neck. When she was thoroughly dazed, he pulled back and pinned her with his laser gaze.

“Let's get something perfectly straight. I don't do flings—office or otherwise. If I want to be with a woman, I want to be with her for more than just one night—or one really amazing hour on a desk. And I want to be with her exclusively.” He released his breath, and his eyes softened. “Now I understand that getting naked with someone and sharing what we did can make a person feel a little insecure. After the comment you just made, I'm feeling that way myself. So if you'd like to revise your statement, I'm listening.”