The CEO's Fantasy (The Billionaire Bachelors Series) (6 page)

He didn’t leave. Couldn’t. “Sara, I wish you would let me… What do you think you’re doing?”

She’d lifted the shirt over her head and dropped it on the bed, giving him an unexpected view of her breasts. They were without question the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. Full and firm and flawless.

Jesus Fucking Christ
.

They made his mouth water, made him weak in the knees. He could happily spend the rest of his life exploring every curve and slope and die a happy man buried between them.

She clasped the hooks of her bra, spun it around and slipped the straps over her shoulders, taking away his short glimpse of paradise.

“I think I’m getting dressed.”

Showing you what you can’t have. Making all the blood rush to your cock so fast your head spins.

She was right. She didn’t do subtle. She was magnificent and fearless when she was being righteous. Irresistible. God, he wanted those breasts in his mouth more than he wanted to breathe. Wanted to hold their weight in his hands and kiss her until she forgot the last five minutes completely. Would she show him everything, strip down completely so he’d know all he’d lost when she disappeared from his life?

“A month ago,” he said, his throat raw with need as he watched her slowly buttoning up her blouse, hiding the creamy flesh completely. “It was a Monday, I think. It had rained and you came running into the elevator laughing at something a security guard had said, soaking wet because you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella.”

Sara paused on the third button. “That would be Andrew. He’s the funny one with the beard.”

“Your hair was in a braid falling down your back,” he continued softly. “And when you turned to make room for the other woman who followed you in, I could see those hard pink nipples through your clinging ivory blouse and bra.”

She gasped, looking up at him, her green eyes darkening with surprise and desire.

Dean kept talking. “I spent the rest of the day reliving the morning. Changing how it ended it my mind. I’d be a gentleman and take off my jacket to cover you up. I’d come up with an excuse to get you in my office so I could seduce you and strip you and find out if you tasted as good as you looked. Then I imagined you on your knees in the elevator, your braid wrapped around my fist as I came.”

“Stop.” She didn’t sound like she wanted him to.

“Why, Sara?” He shrugged, feeling frayed around the edges. “I thought I owed you some unsubtle honesty. I’ve already made a fool of myself. Already ruined whatever good impression you had of me. You no longer work for me, so why not go all the way and tell you what I think about whenever I see you? Why it’s so hard for me to believe you could be here. Politically correct or not.”

“What do you think about?”

Dean’s smile was tight with restraint. “Sex. No matter what I’m doing or how bad my day has been, no matter how professional I need to be or how good the weather in
Warrenland
is, I see you and all of that falls away. I see you and every thought in my head centers on what I want to do to you. All the ways and positions and number of times I could have you until you’d had enough. It’s not something I ever thought I’d admit to, I can’t explain it and it damn sure isn’t something I’m proud of, but I can’t deny it’s there.”

“Ah… Oh.”

“Yes,” he answered wryly. “Oh. And in a weak fucking moment when Henry and the others asked me what I wanted, it slipped out. Despite my rules, despite my decision to focus on work, despite my knowledge that they would never let it lie…I described you.”

She continued buttoning, biting her lip. “And you say you were planning on asking me out, but then you thought they’d—”

“Don’t say it again,” he interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “I hate myself enough as it is. I spent this week avoiding you in the elevator so I could be clear-headed enough to find the right way to approach you that didn’t make me come off like a sexual predator.”

She was watching him from under her thick lashes. “What did you decide on?”

“Does it matter?” Dean grimaced. “An early lunch to discuss the annual review was my best possibility, but I wasn’t sure how much control I’d have if I got you alone.”

He watched as she wriggled into her skirt, still wearing the sweatpants until she was covered and could drop them on the floor.

She was leaving.

He deserved it.

“Mr. Warren? Is the offer to drive me home still good?”

Anything if it meant more time to redeem himself. “Of course. Let me get my shoes and keys and I’ll take you home.”

She didn’t say a word as they stood in the elevator, watching the numbers for each floor light up and disappear. Her arms were crossed over her chest almost protectively. Was she thinking about what he’d said? Was she afraid of him now?

With that thought, his arousal was replaced with pure regret. Other than the suspicion he’d been unable to shake all evening, he’d genuinely enjoyed her company. She was funny and smart and…Henry was right. He wasn’t doing fine. He’d lost his ability to read people. To trust that someone could just want to spend time with him, want
him
and not what he was or had or could do for them.

When had that happened? When had he become that man?

They arrived in the parking garage and a driver who’d been leaning against a column talking to one of the night security guards straightened and stopped them. “Mr. Warren?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Vincent wanted me to inform you that he’s borrowed your car for some competition he’s in with Mr. Faraday. He left me to take you wherever you want to go until he brings it back, sir.”

Dean scowled. Damn it, he should never have given Henry a spare set of keys. “He did, huh?”

The man’s pleasant smile disappeared. “He was sure you wouldn’t mind.”

“He was sure?” Dean didn’t want to think about what Henry and Peter were up to. He had too much on his own plate at the moment. “That’s fine…”

“Roy, sir.”

“That’s fine, Roy.” He glanced at Sara when Roy disappeared to get Henry’s ride. “How do you feel about Hummers?”

She looked away from him quickly and Dean saw the restrained laughter in the young security guard’s face as she met his gaze instead. “Don’t get me in trouble, Ms. Charles,” the man warned lightly.

“Sorry, Bruce,” was her muffled response.

The guard sent a respectful nod to Dean before he started walking down the rows, obviously eager to be out of the owner’s sight.

“Are you and
Bruce
laughing at me, Sara?” Dean murmured, marveling at the interaction. She knew the people who worked in his building better than he did. “Why, I wonder?”

Her shoulders were shaking. “I can’t. If you don’t…no, I can’t.”

The amusement was infectious. “I suppose it isn’t a question you hear every day.”

She turned her head to glance at him quickly, then watched as the long, Hummer limousine pulled up in front of them. “Not once since high school, no.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek as Roy opened the door and helped Sara inside. “Henry has a thing for Hummers, doesn’t he, Roy? He gets one in every city. Likes the feel of them. Says he couldn’t live without them.”

Roy closed the door and Sara started laughing uncontrollably, tears running down her cheeks. “I know,” she gasped, wiping her face. “Juvenile, I know. I just can’t help myself.”

Dean smiled at her. “I’m glad. You have a beautiful laugh, Sara.”

Roy rolled down the smoky dividing glass enough to ask where they were going and Sara gave him her address. Then they were alone again and Dean glanced around Henry’s ride. His old friend had learned to embrace the clichés.

This limo could fit half a nightclub. When the neon blue lights that lined the ceiling turned on as the car began to move and the music started pounding through the speakers, Dean thought maybe it
was
a damn nightclub. The idiot could have gotten his own car, he grumbled to himself. He just wanted to mess with Dean and force him to ride home in this strip club on wheels.

He leaned toward Sara. “I’m sorry, this is a little over the top, even for Henry. Hang on, I’ll turn it down.”

Sara placed her hand on his knee stopping him cold. She shook her head. “I like it.”

He tried not to show his disappointment. He’d been hoping to use the drive home to convince her to have lunch tomorrow in a public place where he couldn’t say anything offensive. That couldn’t happen with this thrumming drumbeat. Damn Henry.

Sara pressed her lips against his ear and he closed his eyes in surprised pleasure. “I appreciated your honesty upstairs, Mr. Warren. I want you to know I wasn’t lying about my fun fund. I’ve been saving it since I was sixteen. Set a little bit aside, even when I was paying for college, because I knew there would be a time when I wanted something frivolous, like a pair of designer shoes or a cruise to Hawaii, and I wanted to be able to give it to myself.”

Dean nodded his understanding. There weren’t enough synonyms for asshole as far as he was concerned. Or enough ways to express his regret.

“Also,” she continued, leaning into him so Dean could feel her breasts against his arm. “You should know that if someone had tried to bribe or cajole me into quitting my job, even if it were Henry Vincent himself—or that handsome Mr. Reyes—I would have either reported them or cut off something they would need at a later date. It would be wrong, whether they were doing it with the best intentions or not. Even if it was something I desperately wanted.”

She was fantastic. Sexy and honest, full of fire and laughter and…Lord help him but her body felt good against his. “You think Tracy’s handsome?”

“Every woman with a pulse thinks he’s handsome.” She hesitated before raising her voice enough to be heard. “I was insulted that you doubted my character, but you don’t know me that well. To be fair, since it would be hypocritical of me not to be as honest as you were—what you said you think about? What you imagined doing with me? You could have been describing my fantasies.”

Dean pulled back to look at her, needing to make certain there were no more misunderstandings. That she was saying what he thought she was.

Sara got up on her knees and started lifting her snug skirt. “You hid it well, so well that to say I’m surprised would be an understatement. But I was hiding something to. When I said you’d know right away if I wanted to seduce you, it’s because I’ve imagined doing it before.
Many
times.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t dare. This was one fantasy that could slip away at any moment. One he could ruin with a word.  He bared his teeth, hissing out a breath when she straddled his hips on the long leather seat and lowered herself onto his lap. He couldn’t hold back the groan when she leaned into him, her cheek pressed against his.

“Do you mind?”

“God, no.”

“Good. Don’t think I’m letting you get off easy.” She laughed and he felt the joy in it on his skin. “I might be, but I don’t want you to think I’m a pushover, and I’m still not sure if I’m more insulted or intrigued to know you thought someone giftwrapped me and sent me up for you to play with.”

Jesus.
The visual of her in nothing but red ribbon binding her hands and feet made his cock pulse, and he knew she could feel it against her blue silk panties, the same pair he’d smoothed his fingers over while folding them.

He wanted to touch them now. “Sara.”

“You’re a very confusing man, Mr. Warren,” she sighed, her fingers curling into his shoulders and her hips beginning to rock against his lightly. Teasing him. “Kind one minute, rude the next, and then you say something like…
mmm
…like that, and it’s all I can think about. I can’t believe I’m doing it, but it feels so much better than I imagined it would. Which is saying a lot.”

God help him it did.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he rasped, his whole body focused on the motion of her hips. “Tell me and it’s yours.”

“I need more,” she mumbled as though she were talking to herself. “I want to feel more of you.”

“So torture then.” Dean unclenched the fists that he’d been holding at his sides and reached for the elastic of his sweatpants, lifting them both up as he pushed the fabric down to his thighs.

Sara stiffened and he gripped her hips with his hands. “Nothing else. Just this. Just what you asked for.” He guided her against his erection, grunting as the hot, wet silk slid across his shaft. “Do you feel me now, Sara? Is this what you need?”

She looked down at him, her breath coming in soft pants against his lips. She nodded and her thighs tightened around him. “And this.”

It didn’t feel like a first kiss. Maybe because of how often he’d thought about her lips. There was no hesitation or tentative tastes from her. Just bold curiosity and raw, pure need. He knew her. Knew she would love it when he bit her lower lip and tugged it in gentle warning. That she would taste like his favorite whiskey and remind him of strawberries. Knew she would shiver when his tongue slid against hers.

Dean tilted his head, exploring her lips with his as he rocked her more firmly against his erection. He was desperate to get inside, but he knew that wouldn’t happen tonight. Couldn’t. She was giving him this and he had to take it. He needed it. Needed to hear the sounds she made when she came.

He lifted his mouth and bit down on the bare lobe of her ear. “I think I need more of that honesty, Sara. I’m craving it. I told you, in detail, a few of the things I imagined doing with you. Tell me. What did you fantasize about when you thought of us together?”

God, she was so fucking wet. He lifted his hips and rocked her more firmly against him, his erection painfully hard.

“The last time?” She bit her lip, taking one hand from his shoulder and running it over her breast unconsciously. “I was in your bathroom. You came in to bring me something to wear and saw me touching myself. Then you bent me over the sink and—
oh, God.”

He’d slipped one hand between them, his fingers finding their way beneath the fabric and touching her…
fuck, yes
. She loved it. She threw her head back with a loud moan, her hand still caressing her breast. She was already wild in his arms and they’d just started. She was so damn responsive.