‘What about her?’
‘Erm, that she’s sleeping with Nick.’
‘It’s not that I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t something you needed to know.’
‘Have you slept with her?’
He scowls at me. ‘Her ex-husband used to mess her around, and she’s got two young kids. Now Nick is preying on her, making her promises he’s got no intention of keeping, making a fool of her. Ihelpedher; I didn’t sleep with her.’
I sit back against the leather seat and watch traffic through my window feeling suitably admonished, ridiculously and pathetically jealous. There’s something else I didn’t know about Scarlett Heath: she’s got a nasty jealous streak.
We finish the journey in silence and when Gregory lets us into the apartment, he takes himself straight into the kitchen area.
‘Are you sulking?’ I ask.
He downs the glass of water he’s poured from the fridge filter. ‘No. I’m giving you what I promised: space to do your work.’ He places his glass down on the black, granite worktop and looks at me. ‘But if you keep up with the attitude, I won’t be responsible for losing control and stripping that red dress right off you.’
He really has no idea how much I’d like him to lose control. Or maybe he does.
‘Go!’ he demands, raising a finger in the direction of his office.
I nestle into the big, black leather chair and tuck myself under Gregory’s contemporary, white desk. I laugh to myself – more black and white to surround my man who definitely operates in the grey. Black and white is who I used to be: addicted to rules and boundaries. Not any more. Not since this CEO swanned into my pitch and broke down my sense and sensibility. My world used to operate atcontent enoughbut he’s shown me how to live atmind-blowing, off the scale one minute and crashing to unbearable lows the next.
It’s irrationally, disgustingly addictive.
Five hours in, emails dealt with for the day and Gregory’s paper almost complete, I twist my hair into a messy bun and push a slide through to hold it in place. My eyes are starting to sting so I put on my glasses and resolve to be finished in thirty minutes.
Right on cue, as I’m carrying out an arms-raised, celebratory stretch, a perfectly toned body clothed in a fitted, black T-shirt and low-rise, dark jeans appears in the doorway. ‘If I’d known I wouldn’t get to touch you ’til this hour, I would’ve never agreed to give you space.’
‘I’m done.’
‘Glasses?’
‘Only when my eyes are tired.’ I pinch the corner of the cat frames to remove them, feeling a little exposed.
‘Hot.’ His voice is laced with sex and my body’s already responding. My sex tingles, my chest fills, my shoulders roll back in my chair as he strides towards me. I leave my glasses where they are. ‘Very naughty secretary.’
I smile but can’t help wondering whether he likes his secretariesthatway; they’re all uncommonly pretty and they drool at his feet when they see him.
He stalks around the desk and turns my chair to face him. Hunkering down in front of me, he lifts my chin with his index finger until I’m looking him in the eye. ‘Stop those cogs whirring. I don’t notice other women. Not any more. I have eyes for one woman.’
I nod but inside, I’m praying that really is true.
‘Stop overthinking, Scarlett.’ He pecks the tip of my nose. ‘Only you, baby.’
He kisses me gently once, then deepens the contact. Strong arms lift me to my feet without breaking our contact. In my heels, I don’t need to reach so high to wrap my arms around his neck and he doesn’t need to bend as much as usual. Holding me with firm hands on my waist, he performs a slow, beautiful grind of his hips against mine.
‘Each time I kiss you, it’s like kissing you for the first time.’ His words fall onto my neck. This is going to be Miss Me Sex: a reminder of what I’ll be missing whilst he’s away. He nibbles my lobe, then my neck, and sucks gently. ‘I want people to know you’re mine whilst I’m gone.’ I know what’s coming and I know he’s asking permission. There’s no way I want to be marked for everyone to see but his lips drive me crazy. I lean my head slightly to one side. Taking his signal, he clamps his lips down on my skin and begins to draw the blood to the surface, sending my insides into a tailspin.
‘Proud of yourself?’ I ask when he lifts his head to face me.
There’s an air of amused satisfaction about him. ‘Perfect.’
‘You’re insane.’
‘And you’re insatiable,’ he says on a pulse-inducing grind.
‘You created the problem.’
