Lorelei James - Bound

Just when she didn’t think she could stand another second, he said, “How can you be so pale and yet so perfect?”

Her breath stalled when his fiery gaze met hers.

“Spread your legs, baby. I need my mouth on you.”

That quiet, sultry demand caused her knees to buckle and her butt hit the mattress.

Ronin didn’t miss a beat. He scooted closer to the edge of the bed and pushed her thighs apart. Way apart.

He covered every inch of her denuded flesh with butterfly kisses. By the time he dipped his tongue down her slit, she’d gone slick and slippery.

“The way you taste is addictive.” And he proved it by licking, lapping, and sucking her juices. Never aggressively, but with a tender need she’d never experienced with him.

And Ronin didn’t threaten to bind her hands if she touched him while he went down on her. So she sifted her fingers through his thick, unruly hair. Her fingers swept over his eyebrows and cheekbones and even the shell of his ear as he worked her over with his mouth.

His eyes were closed, but every once in a while those thick lashes would lift and she’d find him watching her, watching him.

Sexy. Hot. Sweet.

When he focused on her clit, the detonation against his mouth was instantaneous. Delicious. Perfect. Especially when he didn’t relent and immediately drove her up and spun her into orbit again.

Amery could scarcely hear over the blood whooshing in her ears. She slumped back on the bed, reveling in every hard throb against his firmly sucking mouth. Every unerring flick of his tongue. Every soft smooch on her swollen flesh. She also reveled in his fingers digging into her inner thighs. Ironic that his intent to show her tenderness would leave a mark on her? No. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She yawned. “Now I’m tired.”

“Sleep.”

A kiss on her forehead. Then he tucked the covers around her. “I’ll lock up.”

She whispered, “Thank you,” as sleep beckoned.

“No. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me I can lower my guard around you. For letting me be what you needed tonight.”

Her last thought was she’d been mistaken about Ronin. He knew exactly how to be tender. He’d just needed someone to allow him to show it.

WHEN Amery realized Molly was already on a call on the other line, she picked up the ringing receiver and answered, “Hardwick Designs.”

“May I please speak to Amery Hardwick?”

“This is Amery.”

“Ms. Hardwick, this is Maggie Arnold. I’m happy to finally get in touch with you.”

Great, another telemarketer. She’d opened her mouth to decline whatever fantastic special this woman planned to offer when she said, “I assure you this isn’t a sales call. I oversee the North American district for Okada Foods. Have you heard of us?”

That was some kind of Asian food line if she recalled correctly. “It’s vaguely familiar.”

“Good. Okada is in the product development stage for creating healthier frozen entrées. Since these foods will launch an entirely new product line, and will only be offered for limited distribution, we’re looking for a younger, hipper, fresher packaging design. We received your name and were intrigued by your ad designs for local organic food outlets, such as Wicksburg Farms, Grass Roots, Fresh Start, and the farm-to-table restaurants like Nature’s Bounty and Juniper’s Garden that specialize in the type of audience we hope to target.”

That piqued her curiosity. “Your company is entering the organic food market?”

“We’re dipping our toe in the water. We’ve chosen a few areas of the country to test-market and we’re restricting the product line to higher-end grocery markets. Would you be interested in looking at some specs?”

“What type of specs?”

“An outline of what we’d need for FDA packaging requirements, including details of each specific food item, the deadline, a budget, and samples of existing products in the Okada line.”

“Sounds like an interesting project. I’d love to see the specs.”

“Excellent. First we’ll send a nondisclosure statement for you to sign and ask that you don’t discuss this potential project even before you receive the packet of information.”

A tiny kernel of excitement built in her. “Not a problem. When should I expect it?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“That fast? From overseas?”

“No. I’m based in the Seattle office. My contact information will be with the nondisclosure statement, and if you’d be so kind to drop me an e-mail after you receive the packet tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you. We’re looking forward to the possibility of working with you, Ms. Hardwick. Good-bye.”

Amery stared at the receiver after the woman hung up. Odd to have something like that come from out of left field. Really odd. Wasn’t it? Then again, the woman had mentioned Amery’s biggest clients, so she had done her research. Maybe she’d even contacted a few of those clients to get a recommendation.

“Amery?” Molly prompted. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I said your name, like, three times.”

“Sorry. Just lost in thought.” She tapped her pen on the desk. “This is a weird question. But have you gotten any strange phone calls lately?”

Molly frowned. “Like how weird? And how recently?”

“In the last couple of weeks.”

“Not that recently. But the week after the break-in I got a call from someone asking for information on you. It started out with general questions and then it got personal. That’s when I told the caller I was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. She thanked me for my time and hung up. The number was unlisted and I figured it was someone with the insurance company checking to make sure you weren’t the type who’d trash your own building and file a claim on it.”

Amery’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

Molly fidgeted and pushed away from the doorframe. “Because it was confidential and I’d forgotten about it until just now.” She paused. “But I think you should know that same person contacted both Chaz and Emmylou, asking them the same kinds of questions about you and the business. They were asked to keep it confidential too.”

That kicked Amery’s memory. Her mother had mentioned getting a phone call pertaining to Amery’s personal and professional life that same week. That pissed her off. She’d made an insurance claim one time and the company questioned her integrity? Behind her back? Harassing her coworker, her office mates, and her mother?

“I’m sure it’s just standard procedure,” Molly said diplomatically. “Especially since the cops were involved.”

“Maybe you’re right.” But something about it didn’t sit well with her.

“So, who called that made you bring this up with me?”

“Doesn’t matter now.” Although Molly would eventually work on the Okada project if Amery landed it, and she’d already signed nondisclosure agreements with Hardwick Designs, Amery didn’t want to discuss the potential project because she didn’t want to jinx it. “Who were you talking to?”

“Nancy at Grass Roots. They’re having some kind of members-only sale in three days. And she’s sorry for the late notice . . .”

Par for the course with Nancy, so Amery didn’t even blink. “What does she need?”

“An ad that goes out in an e-mail blast to their newsletter subscribers. And Q codes for the twenty products they’re putting on special.”

“What else?”

“Each store will offer twenty sale items. Fifteen are standard, and then five items are sale items unique to that store.”