Maureen Child - Reasons for Revenge - Scorned by the Boss

“Help me with the zipper?”

He smoothed his fingertips across her back, dipped them beneath the soft cotton fabric of her dress and slowly pulled the back zipper down. She looked up at him over her shoulder and gave him a brilliant smile that punched into his stomach like a fist.

“Thanks.” Then, shaking her hair back from her face, she said, “I’m going for a swim. You coming?”

He watched her turn and run into the water, her long legs kicking through the waves that crested on the shore, sending spray flying through the air. His gaze locked on the curve of her behind, the narrowness of her waist, the elegant sweep of her arms as she lifted them to the night sky.

In a flash that took only seconds, his body went hard and hot and needy. Want pooled in his belly and reached up to grab at the base of his throat. Jefferson stripped out of his clothes and followed after her, unable to take his gaze from her. Unable to think about anything but reaching her, touching her, holding her.

He ran to the water’s edge and kept moving until he could dive into the oncoming surf. The warm tropical water surrounded him as he breached the surface and swung his hair out of his eyes. Spotting her just a few yards away, he swam to her and she smiled as he got closer. Moonlight was on her. In her. Shining from her eyes, dazzling her skin.

And his slow seduction went completely out of his head. He only knew he had to have her. Now.

“You’re beautiful,” he said—and was as surprised as she looked to find that he really meant it. Why had he never noticed before now?

How had he looked at her every morning for three years and not noticed the curve of her jaw, the depth of her eyes, the kissability of her mouth? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. All that mattered was the moment at hand.

He cupped her face in his palms, lowered his mouth to hers and tasted. Feasted. She rose up on her toes and the motion of the warm water surrounding them pushed her against him. He held her tightly, arms around her waist in a grip that defied anyone to try to pull her from his grasp.

Electrical-like charges sparkled in his veins and he felt the rush of need clawing to be freed. Again and again, he took her, his mouth plundering hers, taking as well as giving. He heard her sigh, felt the groan rippling up her throat and luxuriated in the sound.

She fed his need, and when her arms came around his neck and pulled his head down harder, more firmly to her own, Jefferson’s blood pumped hard and fast. He shifted, holding on to her with one arm, keeping her steady as the ocean lazily rocked them in a warm, soothing embrace. And he slid his free hand down her body, along her curves and down to the strip of fabric riding low on her hip.

Sliding beneath the edge of her white bikini, his fingers moved unerringly to the one spot he most craved to touch. To stroke. He found her heat and dipped inside. One finger, then another, sliding in and out of her tight center until she pulled her mouth free of his, tipped her head back and gasped for air like a woman drowning in sensation.

“Jefferson!” His name tore from her throat in a deep, rumbling groan.

“Let me,” he whispered, dipping his head to the hollow of her neck. Kissing, nibbling, running the edges of his teeth across her skin. He tasted her pulse, found it battering furiously in her veins and knew she felt what he did. Knew she wanted as badly as he did. And knew he couldn’t wait much longer to have her.

His fingers moved in and out of her hot sheath, setting a rhythm she strived to match. Her hips rocked with him, into him. She opened her thighs and hooked her legs around his middle, giving him deeper access. His thumb brushed at one sensitive spot, and he felt her shiver, heard her whispered intake of breath.

“So hot.” He breathed the words against her skin, moving his mouth up the length of her neck. Kissing her jaw, her cheek, her mouth again, loving the taste of her. “So right.”

She held on tightly now, her hands sliding over his water-slick back, her nails scraping his skin. She leaned back, arching into him, riding his hand with an abandon he wouldn’t have expected from the woman he had always considered the ultimate in tidy efficiency. He gave her what she needed, what they both needed. His fingers stroked and caressed and delved deep within until he felt the first ripple of her climax begin to overtake her. And then he took her mouth with his again, his tongue claiming hers as she whimpered with the staggering force of the orgasm he gave her.

When she was spent, he swept her into his arms and carried her from the ocean. She speared her fingers into his hair and kissed him, secure in the circle of his arms. She leaned into him, pressing her breasts to his chest, kissing him, giving him everything she had.

Quickly he laid her down on the towels spread on the still-warm sand and just as quickly pulled her bikini off and tossed it aside. Moonlight was all she wore now and it graced her curves, her skin, like an ivory cloak. She lifted her arms to him and said, “Now, Jefferson, I want it all now.”

He stripped off his own bathing trunks, stretched out beside her and allowed himself the sheer pleasure of touching her all over. He dipped his head to her breasts and one after the other he took her dark, hardened nipples into his mouth. She groaned again as he suckled her and he felt the magic of her pouring into him.

Her every sigh inflamed him. Her every breath urged him on. She moved beneath him, and his body tightened until he felt as though he were going to explode, shatter. He shifted over her, needing completion, needing to feel himself held within her.

She parted her legs for him and met his first thrust with a lift of her hips that took him deep inside her heat. He felt her acceptance, felt her welcome and lost himself in the fire building between them.

Again and again they came together in the pale shadows. With whispered words and half-muttered sighs, they became the rhythm that pulsed between them. With the stars overhead and the faint sound of music drifting to them from far away, Jefferson stared down into her wide brown eyes and felt himself drowning in their depths.

Caitlyn told herself it was a victory. She hadn’t been used. She had been the one doing the using.

But the victory was an empty one and she knew it. She’d expected to have sex with him, enjoy herself and move on. Put him firmly and completely behind her. But since her body was still humming and her heart was racing frantically in her chest, she knew now that had been a big mistake.

She stared up into his eyes and felt her heart turn over. Strange, she’d heard that expression most of her life and until now she’d always thought it was just that: an expression. Now she knew there was more to it than that.

She was in love with Jefferson Lyon.

A man who couldn’t be less interested in her.

Just perfect.

“Aah,” he said, easing himself to one side of her, gently disentangling their bodies. “That was …”

“Amazing?” she offered in a chipper voice despite the cold emptiness she felt at his absence. “Wonderful? The earth moved?”

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. His eyes were filled with shadows, making them all but impossible to read. And maybe, Caitlyn thought, that was for the best.

“All of the above,” he said, then paused and added with a wince, “plus … unprotected.”

That gave her a quick jolt. Stupid to have not thought of that. No excuse, really.

He shoved one hand through his wet hair as he shook his head in self-disgust. “That’s never happened to me before,” he admitted. “I’ve never lost control like that. Look, Caitlyn, I wasn’t thinking. I can apologize, but that won’t do either of us any good.”