Wanting It All: A Naked Men Novel (5 page)

An interviewer went gaga for that phrase once, so Knox tended to use it whenever asked about his business-hopping. It saved him from admitting the rest of the truth. The nagging fear that if he ever got complacent and stopped constantly trying to come up with something better, he might lose the ability for good.

Madison gaped at him. “You sell the whole thing? Lock, stock, and barrel?”

“I keep the patents, of course. But yeah—once it is up and running, the responsibility and day-to-day repetition bores me senseless. Starting companies and then selling them off is a well-established practice, and a particularly lucrative one. In fact, I’m toying with the idea of selling my current company. No new money left there. Time to upgrade to a newer, more profitable…something. I’m not sure what yet. That’s the fun part, for me.”

“Forget the fun.” She scrambled to her knees. “What about all the people?”

“What people?”

“Your employees.”

It was his company, wasn’t it? A business, not a charity. “Depending on who I sell to, they’ll either have to relocate or exit with a generous severance package.”

“In this economy? Jobs aren’t easy to come by. Unless your severance is a full year’s salary, it isn’t enough. And people with families wouldn’t want to relocate. They’ve got a home, a support system, established here. You’re costing them jobs, uprooting them. How can you do that to people you’ve worked with, side by side?”

Now he was ticked again. How did she set him off so quickly? Madison had known him for, what—a total of six hours now they’d actually spent together? Where did she get off challenging his entrepreneurial spirit? Or his business acumen? Which, by the way, totally worked, as was evidenced by the freaking yacht beneath her very fine ass.

Knox scowled. Which was not an expression in his usual second-date rotation. Madison, however, was forcing him to toss out his playbook. “Nobody is laid off.
Nobody.
That’s a stipulation of the sale. Nonnegotiable, every time.” Which almost never happened in a standard takeover. Knox bent over backward to ensure that. He wasn’t a monster. Didn’t she see what a big deal that was?

“But you’re putting them in a situation that might force them to quit? Just to make a bigger profit for yourself?” she pressed.

His R&D team volleyed ideas back and forth with him. His assistant fought to make him stick to his overscheduled calendar. But being a millionaire several times over, as well as the head of the company, provided Knox with a barrier against most arguments.

These days the ACSs were the only ones who really challenged him on a personal level—because when you almost died alongside your closest friends, when the world gave you a stupid group nickname like
Americani Calcio Sopravvissuti,
it gave those friends the right to razz you forever. And now there was Madison, not willing to back down or give him a single inch. Sparring with her, working to make her see his side of it, the right side of it, was equal parts fun and frustrating.

“I’m not a human resources department. I refuse to feel guilty about a sound business decision.” Profit wasn’t evil. The spirit of capitalism practically founded America, after they got that whole religious freedom thing out of the way. Knox stood. Sitting down was suddenly too confining for the heat roiling through him. “I’m also not a cheapskate. They’re all treated very well, compensated while they’re with me at well above the market standard. Bottom line—business isn’t about emotions.”

Madison shoved to her feet, got right in his face as though they were about to go nine rounds in a boxing ring. “No, but it
is
about people.”

Caring about people didn’t keep a business running. It didn’t provide him with the profit and capital necessary to start a new business and employ more people. It didn’t sock away funds and stocks for retirement. All it did was complicate things. Good business both streamlined and removed all the complications standing in the way of profit. What a bleeding heart she had.

“Are you trying to start a labor union right under my nose? I’m telling you, I don’t run a sweatshop. I’m not a monster.” And he resented like hell her continuing implication that he was one.

Voice rising, her magnificent chest heaving beneath the low-cut neckline of her dress, Madison came at him again. “You’ve never given a second thought to the employees whose lives you turn upside down on a dime.”

Why’d she have to look so darn fuckable in the middle of a fight? Still, Knox didn’t even try to dial back the condescension in his voice. “Trust me, it’s for considerably more than a dime. I probably earned a thousand dimes while you spit out that last sentence.”

She couldn’t have looked less impressed if he told her that he had forty-seven cents saved in a piggy bank. Madison’s sneer made it clear she didn’t give a rat’s ass about how much money he made. “So literally everything you do is measured in how much it makes you?”

“Yeah. Although sometimes the measurement is in what it costs.” All he wanted to do was shut her up. One surefire way came to mind. “And I’m pretty sure this is gonna cost me a lot.” Giving in to impulse, Knox grabbed her by the arms, pulled her in fast and tight, and kissed her.

One second, Madison was seeing red, frustrated at Knox’s obstinacy and refusal to even consider her points. The next, she was seeing a whole different kind of red. The red of velvet wallpaper in bordellos, of red satin sheets, of the pulsing color that painted the backs of your eyelids when your heart pumped too hard. The red of passion.

Because she didn’t care that they’d been in the middle of an argument. This thing happened when Knox touched her: suddenly nothing else mattered. So when he grabbed her arms and took her mouth, that was it. Their fight didn’t matter. The wind lifting the back of her skirt didn’t matter.

Madison had devoted her life to books. She knew the sweeping tales of passion from the symbolically sexy Psalm 45 in the Bible through Shakespeare and the Brontë sisters to D. H. Lawrence and the bodice rippers of the seventies. Madison respected those tales as art. She also acknowledged them as vastly overblown. Sex was fun. Satisfying. It couldn’t possibly reach the heights portrayed in literature, though.

Or so she’d thought until being kissed by Knox Davies. The man was a master. His lips firm, his tongue demanding as it swept inside on her first surprised gasp. The gasp that turned into a moan. Because he was doing these stroking motions with his tongue on top of hers that literally,
literally
made her panties wet.

He smelled of some undoubtedly expensive cologne that made her think of moss and woods after a summer rain. No, it made her think about rolling around on damp moss with Knox naked on top of her.

Every time his tongue moved along the sensitive inside of her cheek, or twined with the tip of her own tongue, little zaps of heat and electricity sparked from her mouth outward. Outward to every single erogenous zone she had, and some she hadn’t actually known about before today. Like pinpricks of bliss in the center of her palms, her nipples, the soles of her feet, all jolting to her core.

As close as they were, it wasn’t close enough. Madison hooked her left leg around his ankle. That brought their lower bodies together the same as the top half. So close that his massive erection throbbed against her belly. She let out a moan. That got him to let go of her arms and clamp on tight to her ass. Such big hands. Such a strong, rhythmic kneading of her muscles while the tips of his fingers settled along the lace between her thighs.

Now Madison could grab on tight. She thrust her hands through that short, spiked-up brown hair. Tugged just hard enough to be sure he knew that she could give as good as she got from him. When she moaned, he wrenched his mouth down to nibble at the edge of her jaw.

Madison flexed her fingers. Pushed him down to her neck as she arched and offered it to him. The man latched on with vampiric interest. And God, Madison had never craved a hickey before the way she did now. Not just want—need. She
needed
him to suck harder, to lick faster, to burn up right along with her. To lose his slick control the same way every swipe of his tongue demolished hers.

Pulling back to look her in the eyes, he stated, “You really pissed me off.”

“Ditto.” Stating the obvious made her want more kisses. Heck, just feeling the motion of his pecs with every ragged breath he drew in made Madison want more of his kisses. So she pulled his head down. Locked lips hard and fast and wet. Which also made her think of Knox on top of her, naked. Another amazing wash of warmth down her front had Madison’s knees going just a little bit weak. Good thing he was holding on to her ass like his life depended on it.

Knox picked her up. Turned, set her on the table. Moved his hands up to bracket her hips. Which put space between them that Madison bitterly resented. “You barely know me. Why does it matter to you what I do? Why does it matter so much that you’d poke at me with all the intention of shoving a stick into a wasp’s nest?”

Uh, because it was fun? “You can take it.”

“Of course I can.”

Even though he’d stopped their fast-forward to sex with—of all things,
conversation
—Knox still kept his hands in motion, curving around her ass. Which kept Madison at a constant simmer of need as well.

Well, if he wanted to be all gentlemanly and talk some more before getting busy, she’d get straight to the point. “It’s a way of getting to know each other, isn’t it? By fighting? Fighting about what we believe in?”

“There are better ways to get to know each other.”

Right. Like sex. Sheesh. It wasn’t as if she’d flown solo on a rant. Knox threw back at her every bit as much as she threw down at him. Apparently, the whole thing had pitched him off balance. There was no other explanation for the cessation of sexy times. Yes, she was on a serious hunt for marriage material. But sometimes a girl needed to stop and look around in the middle of the journey. The sheer masculine hotness that was Knox Davies merited a looooong rest stop on her hunt.

Madison wrapped her legs around his thighs, urging him into the vee it created. “Would you have learned as much about me, as fast, if I giggled my way through that bottle of champagne, swapping stories about, oh, old Halloween costumes?”

He stared deeply into her eyes. Hard not to, what with his face being just a nose-length away. “Depends on your costume of choice. It can say a lot about a person.”

“Okay. What’s yours?”

“James Bond. He’s smart, knows how to wear a suit, and bangs every woman who crosses his path, good or bad.”

Hmm. That
did
say a lot about Knox. They didn’t let dummies into MIT. She’d heard chapter and verse about his penchant for going through women faster than an otter could open an abalone. And the man liked to dress up. Way up.

Here they were on a boat in the summer, and he was in a white linen suit. The navy-and-white striped shirt might pass as casual if she hadn’t seen the flash of silver cuff links on his wrists. Not to mention a patterned pocket square. She’d never seen one of those in real life before meeting Knox.

And while her brain wanted to dismiss all the fanciness as over-the-top, Madison couldn’t help but marvel at how he didn’t look stuffy. Didn’t look like a boring business type. No, Knox rocked the scruff along his jawline and broad shoulders filling out the coat, tailored to show off his narrow hips, too. Money looked good on him. Not as good as she’d look on him, though.

“So?” Knox broke into her ogling. “What do you go as on Halloween?”

Damn it, this would prove him right. And Madison knew from just two dates that she wanted to be right more often than Knox. Just often enough to keep the scales tipped in her favor. “A bookworm. I have a sweatshirt printed with a chapter of
Wuthering Heights,
a book pendant, pajama pants covered in prints of books, and I anchor a paperback on top of my head, too.”

“Offbeat and adorable. Sounds like the Madison I’ve gotten to know so far.”

The compliment rankled. “Yes, your stupid theory works. Halloween costumes reveal all. Now that we know everything there is to know about each other, can we get back to making out?”

To her dismay, his hands shifted to the far less erogenous zone of her shoulders as he canted backward, putting even more breathing room between them. “Look, I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

He’d used the exactly perfect words to diffuse the situation. Damn it. Now Madison couldn’t be annoyed at all. On the other hand, it moved him several spaces forward on the Ultimate Trip to Marriage game board. She wanted to think about it and keep talking with him. Just not right now. “Remember when you swirled your tongue along the roof of my mouth?
That
was doing the right thing.”

Finally, Knox looked as frustrated as she felt. “Yes, I want to have sex with you. Yes, I hoped this yacht would impress you and I’d at least get that bra off you tonight. But, Madison, five minutes ago you seemed ready to tear my throat out.”

“Three minutes ago I had your tongue down my throat. Keep up with the times.”

The tan skin that bracketed his eyes crinkled as he scowled. “I can keep up. I can run circles around you, Book Girl.”

“Prove it.” Tightening her legs around Knox’s waist and looping her arms around his neck, Madison pushed off the table so she hung from him. “While keeping in mind that speed doesn’t necessarily earn you extra points.”

“Are you sure? I may be a horndog, but I’m a gentleman, too. I can wait to make my big move on you until we finish the champagne. Or more to the point, I can wait until we finish fighting. It’s not my usual foreplay.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be done fighting for a very long time.” And wasn’t that fun to contemplate? “Let’s call this a time-out.”

“The sex break that refreshes?”

“Exactly.”

“As the lady wishes.” Abruptly his hands went beneath her ass, supporting her. Knox swung in a half circle to deposit her back on the white cushions. When he set her down, his hands stroked up her sides…taking the sundress with them.

Wow. He’d bared her to his burning gaze in less than two seconds.
That
was a move and a half. Smooth. Fast. And in the time it took her to process it, Knox shucked his jacket, his polished loafers…and his pants.

His pants? Already? “Isn’t there an order to these things?” Especially since his shirttails covered up everything but the hem of his boxer briefs. “Shirt, then pants, so I can look my fill before I’m blinded by the majesty of your sure-to-be-enormous penis?”

“I like that. Spot-on description, by the way.” His teeth flashed in a toothpaste ad grin. “There’s a plan.”

“Aha. I figured as much. An MIT alum probably approaches sex with the scientific method. Plans. Charts.”

“My cleaner’s complained about how hard it is to get ground-in dirt out of linen pants.” Knox dropped to the deck. “And I need to be on my knees to do this.”

Then his face was buried in her cleavage while both thumbs rubbed circles over her instantly erect nipples. No. Wait. Madison needed to be precise, to mentally record every second to savor when she was ninety…or to savor in three months while alone in bed on a Saturday night.

Knox’s end-of-day scruff, rough against the sensitive skin of her inner breasts, contrasted with the wet smoothness of the up-and-down laps his tongue made in the valley between them. Each sensation alone would’ve been great. In tandem, they were fantastic. But topped off by the light thumb rasp across her nipples, it became a trifecta of pleasure. Forget sex. She’d be perfectly happy if he kept doing just this all night.

“Don’t stop,” she ordered. To make that point clear, Madison threaded her fingers into his hair and held him in place.

It didn’t work. He lifted up just enough to talk, but it was too far to maintain contact. “Who said anything about stopping? I’m just getting started.”

He slid his hands around her back. They were immediately replaced on her left nipple by his mouth. His hot, wet mouth. When he suckled against the wet satin of her bra and it lifted straight off, for a split second Madison thought he’d done it just with his mouth. Then she realized he’d unsnapped the clasp first.
That
was how pleasure-addled her brain cells were already.

The bra slithered down between her legs to pool on the deck. Madison knew this because she couldn’t stop staring down at Knox. Yes, eye-shutting was the normal response to having her nipples sucked. But she couldn’t stop looking at him. At his dark hair against her pale skin. At the way his back muscles bunched beneath the fitted shirt. At the dark hair dusting the backs of his strong, tanned calves.

Big hands plumped her breasts together. Knox whipped his head back and forth, licking one nipple, then the other, and then back again. Her knees pressed against his ribs in a silent invitation to do more. Madison restlessly ran her hands up and down his arms, wishing she could reach more, touch more, see
more.

“Knox.”

His tongue paused its swirling tugging just long enough to spit out, “What?” And even that was too long a break.

“I want you.”

“I can tell from those adorable little gasping noises you’re making.”

Was she? Madison had been too busy paying attention to Knox to catalog her own reactions to him. She scooted back against the cushions. Not out of reach entirely—God forbid—but enough to get his attention.

“This, what’s happening right now, is a two-way street. Or it should be. I demand equal time.”

“So take it,” he said, with laughter in his voice and the light of challenge in his eyes.

Finally.
She zipped through undoing his buttons. Her reward? Acres of tan skin, with just enough of a mat of dark hair across the well-formed pecs. Madison knew it would be rough against her own chest. She also knew how much she’d enjoy it. Defined abs, bisected by a thin line of hair, made her mouth water. But she didn’t linger with the staring. No, she wanted to be able to run her hands over everything at once.

Madison tried to pull a sleeve over his hand. It was a no-go. Geez, she hoped everything they said about big hands being an indicator of the size of other body parts was true, because his hands were big enough to make hers feel dainty. And that almost never happened. Frustrated, she grabbed the sleeve with both hands and yanked. Hard. Sunlight flashed as his cuff link flew across the cockpit. The tinkle it made hitting the table leg didn’t stop, because then it pinged down the steps, one by one, as the boat rocked on the water.

Whoops. Madison bit her lip. “Are those expensive?”

“Does it matter?”

With a grin, Madison yanked at his other sleeve and sent the other cuff link flying. “Nope. They were standing between me and your naked chest, so they had to go.”

“I agree.”

She stood and bent over him to grab his shirttail. Conveniently, that presented her breasts right at face level for him again. And Knox was no slouch in the opportunity-grabbing department. He stroked the sides of her breasts as she whipped the shirt up and off. His excellent stroking distracted her enough that her aim suffered. Madison whacked him in the ear with her wrist on the upswing.

“That’s why I should be in charge,” he said with a wince.

“There is no ‘in charge.’ Everybody gets a turn,” she insisted.