Jolts of electricity swept through every aching muscle.
My pussy began to throb.
The heat in my bottom increased every time I moved.
Christian.
The man with a body built for sin.
I jerked up, yanking and hugging the covers against my chest, blinking furiously to try to focus. The stateroom. Oh, my God. I’d spent the night on his yacht.
No. No. My behavior went against everything I stood for. I’d had one rule when opening the company. Never get involved with a client under any circumstances. I’d had a couple of very sexy and powerful men ask me to share a drink with them and I’d refused without remorse.
Why this time?
Why this man?
What was wrong with me?
I closed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. How could I stand to look myself in the mirror?
“Okay. This isn’t that bad. It was one night. No strings. No reason to panic.” My words were stuttered.
As if the personal pep talk was going to do any good.
Moaning, I slowly turned my head to the other side of the bed. It was empty, the covers pulled back. A strike of disappointment rushed through me. When I placed my hand on the pillow, the soft pillowcase was cool to the touch. He’d been gone for a little while. The sheets shifted against my bottom and I was reminded of the spanking. The ache remained, but the throbbing in my pussy was more intense.
I bit my lip as I allowed myself to remember the sizzling rounds of passion. As in plural. We’d gone to the hot tub and somehow, he’d convinced me I hadn’t needed a swimsuit.
A little more wine, more heated touches and we’d collapsed in bed. He’d awakened me in the middle of the night with rough kisses and even more heated touches.
He’d kept me excited, his stamina incredible. I was sore all over, his scent covering every inch of my body. Even my skin was still hot to the touch. As I pressed my fingers against my mouth, I shifted back and forth on purpose. What an amazing night.
Exactly as I’d wanted.
Was it so wrong to want to share something completely intimate with a total stranger?
Ugh. Guilt hit me hard and fast. What in the hell had I done? He was my client. Well, not yet, but after our discussion at lunch, I’d been leaning in that direction.
Now? I wasn’t so certain.
I rolled onto my stomach, dragging the pillow he’d used under me. His scent was everywhere, the aftershave carrying bits of exotic spice, citrus, a dark wood, and something earthy. It suited him and I had a feeling his fancy suits were nothing more than a costume.
We all wore them from time to time.
He was magnificent at doing so, callous in his actions while I’d sensed a fever furrowing inside. Everything we’d discussed was a blur.
Groaning, I pounded my fist on the pillow.
Where was he? Maybe regret had followed him into the morning as well. I threw back the covers, planting my feet on the floor. The moment I stood, I noticed he’d picked up my clothes off the floor, folding and placing them on a chair. And on the table next to the pile was a note.
I had to remind myself what we’d shared was a filthy moment of pure sin, nothing more.
Yet I sensed a strange ache inside for the first time. At least that meant I felt something. Still, now, I needed to remain professional.
Hesitant, I moved toward the folded piece of paper, groaning before I snagged it.
Wildcat,
