Millionaire Boss, page 6
“Have you had a good time today?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “Very.”
He stopped and turned her into the circle of his arms. “Good. I’d hoped you would.”
Her pulse leaped at the warmth she saw in his eyes. She knew he was going to kiss her, could see his intent in the darkening of his eyes, could feel it in the increased tension in the arms he’d looped around her waist. She dropped her gaze to his lips and wet her own, impatient for the feel of his mouth on hers again.
Though their kiss the night before had lacked the romantic embellishments of the moonlit beach, she remembered every detail as if it had been etched upon her very soul. The commanding pressure of his mouth. The sharp flavor of bourbon she’d tasted when he’d slipped his tongue between her lips. Wave after wave of sensation that had rolled through her body when he’d first touched his tongue to hers, the gripping pleasure when he’d mated with it. The strength in the chest that had pushed urgently against her breasts.
The weakness.
The need.
With her gaze on his, she rose to the balls of her feet and touched her lips to his. Satin, she thought with a sigh. His lips were like firm, plump pillows of moist satin giving beneath hers. The taste of bourbon was missing this time, but the flavors she found in its place were just as heady, leaving her feeling as light-headed as if she had enjoyed one too many glasses of wine.
Wanting more of him, needing more, she looped her arms around his neck and drew his face closer to hers. Curious—and amazingly confident—she slipped her tongue between his lips and swept it across the front of his teeth. The groan that rumbled low in his chest and crawled up his throat to vibrate against her mouth made her shiver, and she withdrew to sink back to her bare feet. Weak, she dropped her forehead against his chin. “Wow,” she said, releasing a shuddery breath, then lifted her face to look up at him. “Wow,” she whispered, the heat in his eyes adding a new depth to the warmth that already pulsed in her cheeks and swirled in her belly.
He slid his hands down her back to cup her buttocks. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice husky. “Wow.”
He drew her hips against his, but kept his gaze on hers, as if monitoring her reaction. Remembering the shock she’d felt the night before upon encountering the unexpected hardness of his arousal, she waited, too, anticipating the same fear to grip her now. But when his hips met hers and the column of firm flesh pressed against her abdomen, there was no shock, no fear, no hesitancy. Just a burning need to feel more of him. To have him inside her.
He must have sensed the change in her response, because the tension eased from his face and arms, and his eyes grew darker, sharper. With his hands gripped firmly around her buttocks, holding her against him, he lowered his head and opened his mouth over hers, his possession of her instant and complete. He drank deeply, yet with a gentleness that drew tears to her eyes.
He spun the kiss out, each stroke of his tongue leaving her hotter, weaker. Then, when she was sure she’d die if he didn’t take her, he relaxed the hands he gripped at her buttocks and smoothed his palms slowly up her back, forcing her more firmly against his chest, until her aching breasts were flattened between them.
She whimpered her frustration, her desire for him, and he tightened his arms around her as he lifted her high on his chest, swallowing the sound. Holding her against him, he turned in a slow, mind-dizzying circle, never once moving his lips from hers.
Weakened by the devastating power of his kiss, yet throbbing with a need that rivaled the pounding crash of the waves over the rocks just beyond them, she drew her hands to his face. She thrilled at the high ridge of cheekbone beneath her palms, the scrape of a day’s growth of beard against her fingers as she drew her hands along his jaw, the hard cords of muscle she discovered when she dropped them to his shoulders and clung.
Groaning, he sank to his knees on the sand, then to his back, drawing her over him. He plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth. An ache spread through her chest, mirroring in intensity the one that throbbed low in her belly. And when he caught her face between his hands and tore his mouth from hers, she didn’t even try to suppress the moan of frustration the loss drew.
“I want you.”
Slowly she forced her eyes open and found the want he’d stated flaming in his eyes. He increased the pressure of his hands, and she could feel the tension in them, a need surely as strong as hers for him.
“I want you,” he said again, then frowned. “But not here.”
She knew he was right. The beach was too open, too public. The chance of someone happening upon them too great. But knowing that didn’t stop the disappointment that rushed through her. Nor did it ease the ache that twisted inside her.
Fitting his hands at her waist, he shifted her off him, then pushed himself to his feet and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet, as well. He caught her by the waist again and hauled her to him for one last hungry kiss, before tucking her against his side and walking with her back to their blanket and the campfire that had burned low in their absence.
They made the drive back to the hotel in silence, each painfully aware of the other’s nearness, of what awaited them once they arrived. In the hotel’s glass elevator that carried them to the uppermost floor, they stood side by side, both with their gazes locked on the digital monitor that registered their frustratingly slow ascent. They didn’t dare to so much as glance at the other, or touch, for fear what would happen if they did.
But when the elevator stopped and they finally stepped inside their hotel suite and closed the door behind them, offering them the privacy that the beach hadn’t, they fell into each other’s arms. Their mouths were urgent, demanding, greedy, their hands clawing and desperate as they came together, as if time and circumstances had never separated them at all.
Articles of clothing flew across the room as they stripped each other of the frustrating barriers that separated them. But when they were naked and standing less than a foot apart, they could only stare, their gazes locked, their chests heaving as if they’d run from the beach to the hotel, rather than driven there.
Erik was the first to move, the first to break the silence. Inhaling deeply, he lifted a hand and placed it over her quivering breast. “Beautiful,” he said, and dropped his gaze to stare. “So, so beautiful,” he murmured, and dipped his head to stroke his tongue across the budded nipple he drew between finger and thumb.
Penny gasped, arching against him as he opened his mouth fully over her breast. And when he slowly drew her in, she knotted her fingers in his hair and clamped her teeth together, willing herself to remain upright.
Hot arrows of need shot to her center as he suckled, leaving her moist, aching…wanting. But before she could voice her need for him, beg him to make love to her, to end this slow torture, he had shifted again and was thrusting his tongue deeply into her mouth, stealing her breath.
“My room,” he said breathlessly as he rained kisses over her face and down her neck. Without waiting for her response, he scooped her up into his arms and headed there.
The impatient beep of an electronic alarm had him skidding to a stop halfway across the living room.
He whipped his head around to stare at the laptop computer he’d left on the bar. With a low, furious growl, he dumped Penny over the back of the sofa and raced for it. Positioning his fingers over the keyboard, he viciously keyed in instructions.
“Come on,” he growled, his gaze riveted on the screen as he watched rows of numbers jump into view with a slowness that had him swearing.
Across the room Penny slowly pulled herself to a sitting position on the sofa, staring at his bare backside, her eyes wide in disbelief. Had he really just tossed her aside as carelessly as a child would a toy he’d grown bored with? Could he possibly think that something, anything was more important than what was happening between them, what was about to happen between them when the alarm had sounded?
She eased to the edge of the sofa, then slowly to her feet, her legs trembling uncontrollably, her gaze riveted on his back. How could he? she asked herself as hot, angry tears filled her eyes. Did he think so little of her, of what she was offering him, that he would choose a stupid computer over her?
Realizing the answer to her question stood right before her without a stitch of clothing on, pounding a keyboard like a maniac, she hiccuped a sob and turned and fled to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her.
While Penny was making her tearful exit, Erik was punching keys and watching the screen, monitoring Boy Wonder’s progress into the secure system the hacker had breached.
“What are you doing, kid?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes on the screen. “What is it you want?”
With thousands of miles separating him from the attacker, Erik could only watch as the usurper slipped into the back door of Erik’s own company, Cyber Cowboy International, and blatantly crawled his way through protected files. Slamming a fist against the bar’s marble surface and swearing, he positioned his fingers over the keyboard again and angrily punched in codes, slamming doors behind the unknown hacker.
As quickly as he had appeared, Boy Wonder disappeared, leaving Erik staring at nothing but a silent, blinking cursor.
He spun, raking his fingers through his hair, to pace to the balcony doors and back. “Damn that miserable hacker. That’s the last time that bastard will thumb his nose at me.”
He stopped and turned, suddenly remembering Penny. When he didn’t see her on the sofa where he’d left her, he strode to her door, thinking she’d gone into her bedroom. He twisted the knob and frowned when he found it locked. “Penny?”
He waited, listening, then lifted a hand and pounded a fist on the door. “Hey, Penny! Open up!”
“Go away.”
His frown deepened when he heard the tears in her voice. He muttered a curse, realizing too late that he’d probably offended her by dumping her on the sofa when he’d responded to the alarm. Frustrated, yet hopeful that he could persuade her to open the door and they could pick up where they had left off, he placed a fist against the door and pressed his forehead against it. “Come on, honey,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. It was that damn hacker again. You know. Boy Wonder. The one who’s been breaking into my system.”
“Go away,” she said more loudly this time, her voice sharp with resentment, “and play with your stupid toys.”
He dropped his hand from the door and curled his fingers into a tighter fist. “Computers aren’t toys,” he shouted. “They’re highly technical, electronic equipment.”
“Fine. Then go play with your highly technical, electronic toys.”
Setting his jaw against the fury that raged inside him, he backed from the door. “All right, dammit!” he yelled. “If that’s the way you want it. Fine. But pack your bags. We’re going back to Texas.”
Wheeling sharply, he stormed across the room, snatched his laptop from the bar, ripped the modem connection from the phone jack and stomped to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Penny slept throughout the late-night flight back to Austin. Her ability to sleep in the face of so much turmoil and after such an exhausting display of emotion didn’t surprise her. She often crawled into bed, pulled the covers over her head and slept when confronted with seemingly insurmountable problems or fears. She supposed the technique was a form of avoidance, much like the ostrich who buried his head in the sand when sensing danger, but she didn’t care. She’d discovered the strategy quite by accident following the death of her parents and had perfected the technique over the years. On this particular night it served her well.
And frustrated the hell out of Erik.
He didn’t want Penny to sleep. He wanted her in his lap, in his arms, kissing him and clawing at him as she had earlier that evening. Instead, once they’d settled into his private jet for the flight back to Texas, she’d pulled a blanket over her shoulder, turned her back on him and closed her eyes. She’d slept ever since, successfully shutting him out.
Well, that was just fine, he told himself, and rammed his seat back to a reclining position. Two could play this game as well as one.
Unfortunately he discovered he didn’t share the mouse’s ability to sleep in the face of turmoil. His mind refused to let go of the memories he’d unknowingly stored away of the day they’d spent together exploring San Diego.
In spite of his determination to block them, images and scenes scrolled through his mind with a clarity that rivaled a DVD movie. Her childish delight in watching the koala bears play at the San Diego Zoo. The way her eyes had sparkled with laughter and her lips had gleamed as she’d nibbled her way around a roasted ear of buttery corn on the cob he’d purchased for her from a vendor on the beach. The way the wind had whipped through her hair, much as it had the colorful flags that topped the mast of the sailboat he’d chartered for their afternoon sail around Mission Bay.
But the most stubborn images, the ones that returned again and again, keeping him awake, were those at the beach and those, later, at the hotel. The soft, dreamy expression on her face as she’d watched the ocean waves rush onto shore. The wonder in her eyes when she’d tipped her head back to stare at the canopy of winking stars overhead. The breathless expectancy with which she’d looked up at him when he’d turned her into his arms. The feel of her hands on his flesh, the silky texture of hers beneath his. The heat that had pulsed and throbbed between them when he’d held her in his arms. The scent of her that still filled his senses, the sensuous curves that had once filled his hands.
When he’d set out that morning, his goal had been to get her into his bed, to claim the ultimate prize of her virginity.
But that was before he’d watched her face light up with laughter as she’d watched the koala bears at the zoo. Before he had kissed her. Before he had held her in his arms. Before he had tasted her innocence, experienced his own knee-jerk reaction to her passionate response.
Now he’d be satisfied if she’d just look at him, talk to him…quit ignoring him.
And if she were to touch him, he thought, dragging a shaky hand down his face. He’d be putty in her hands.
Five
Penny gave a great deal of thought to simply resigning from her job and finding a new one, thus putting an end to the torture of having to see Erik every day—a plan her friend Suzy, after hearing the details of what all had transpired in California, had loudly applauded.
And, coward that she was, the old Penny probably would have resigned. But the new Penny, the one who had first made an appearance when Penny had made the decision to leave her brother’s home, the one who had grown stronger and more confident as she’d tackled the daunting task of settling into a new apartment, a new job and a new town. The new Penny who had seemingly blossomed overnight, the new Penny with the fabulous new hairstyle, the one who had spent a small fortune at a specialty shop with the intent of building a new wardrobe that reflected her rebirth and her bold step toward an exciting new future. The Penny who had stood up to Erik, defied his anger, his fury, in order to protect her heart…. That Penny wouldn’t quit. To do so would be admitting her cowardice, knuckling under to her fears, returning to her old ways, her old self.
And the new Penny had no intention of ever returning there.
But dealing with Erik, hiding from him her disappointment, her resentment at having been so carelessly treated, would take finesse and a strength she only prayed she possessed.
A week after her return from the business trip to California with Erik, Penny glanced up from her computer screen as the elevator doors slid open.
“Mrs. Hilloughby!” she cried, rising as the former secretary stepped from the elevator. She circled her desk to greet the woman, offering her hands in greeting. “How nice to see you again. How are you?”
Eleanor Hilloughby grabbed Penny’s hands and squeezed. “Just the same. But you!” she exclaimed, drawing back to give Penny a thorough inspection. “What have you done to yourself?”
Penny lowered her gaze, blushing. “I cut my hair.”
Eleanor nodded her approval. “And it suits you. Gives you a whole new look.”
Penny smiled, pleased with the woman’s assessment. “Thank you. But what are you doing here? I would think you’d be off playing with your grandchildren.”
Eleanor blew a breath up at the wisps of salt-and-pepper hair that fell across her forehead. “I’m taking the day off. I don’t know where those children get all that energy. Totally wear me out in no time flat.”
Penny laughed and drew the woman into the reception area. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Or perhaps some iced tea?”
“Tea, please.” Eleanor watched as Penny went about filling glasses. Though she was dying to know how her replacement and Erik were getting along, Eleanor wouldn’t allow herself to simply ask outright, for fear of embarrassing the young woman. But there were other ways to obtain the information she needed, she thought slyly. After thirty-five years as a special agent’s wife, she’d picked up a trick or two she could use.
“Is Erik in his office?”
Penny’s fingers fumbled on the sugar spoon’s handle, spilling white granules across the serving bar. Eleanor noted the display of nerves and filed it away for later consideration.
Penny neatly dealt with the spill and at the same time avoided Eleanor’s gaze. “Yes. Would you like me to tell him that you’re here?”
Eleanor waved away the offer. “Time enough for that later. Tell me about you. Are you enjoying working with Erik?”
Penny’s hesitation was another fact that Eleanor tucked away for later consideration.
“Yes,” she finally said, and forced a smile. “I’m enjoying my work very much.”
Hmm, Eleanor mused silently as she accepted the glass of iced tea Penny offered her. The girl can dance her way around a question she doesn’t want to answer better than a politician.
