Turn Me On

  "Well, you're gorgeous, for one thing."

  "I'm glad you think so. I've been thinking the same thing about you all night. How stunning you look in that perfectly tailored skirt. And how exceptional I'm sure you'd look out of it."

  It was Amanda's turn to be amused. "Not bad," she said, then slipped her foot out of her shoe and rubbed her toes along his ankle. "But if you think a lame compliment like that is going to get me into bed, you're going to have to try harder."

  He'd just lifted his whiskey glass to his lips. Fortunately, he hadn't taken a sip, because a low, throaty laugh bubbled out, the sound deliciously sexy. "Noted," he said. "I'll work on my pick-up lines."

  "You do that." She took a sip of her own wine to hide her smile. She wasn't entirely sure what was going on between her and this guy, but she did know that she enjoyed his company and his sense of humor. Somehow--she honestly wasn't sure what the trigger had been--they'd slid from polite date talk into teasing sexual innuendoes during their walk to the hotel.

  Under any other circumstances, she would have put the brakes on that right away, even with the sexual chemistry that crackled between them. She had her rules, after all. But this guy, with his out of town address and departure date of tomorrow, seemed like a safe bet. A good risk.

  More important, she wanted him.

  And it had been a long time since she truly, really, fully craved a man.

  "Also," she said, her toes on his ankle again, "I think you need to lose a few points for that lame attempt at avoiding my original question."

  "I'm not a movie star," he said. "That wasn't a serious question, was it?"

  She lifted a shoulder. "Ever since we walked into this hotel, the staff's had their eye on you. And the service is excellent. You must be somebody."

  "Oh, I am."

  "Who?"

  He leaned forward, his expression so intense it made her heart skip a beat. "I'm the man who's going to make you beg."

  Her mouth went suddenly dry. "Oh."

  She swallowed, her entire body flush with desire. She wanted to melt right then. To tell him to take her to a room and prove all his big talk.

  But Amanda also didn't like to lose, and what had started out as teasing now felt like a game. A decadent, seductive, fabulous game. And she knew exactly what her next move was.

  Slowly, she eased her foot up his leg, her eyes never leaving his until her toes were resting between his legs, his cock getting stiffer by the second. Their small table had a cloth, so her ministrations were hidden under white, draping fabric. But anyone looking at his face could make a good guess as to what was happening under that curtain.

  "Poor thing," she said, faking a frown. "All trapped inside there. Maybe you should unzip and let him come out and play."

  She watched him catch his breath, then sit up straighter, obviously working for control. "You're cheating," he accused.

  Amanda lifted her brows. "How?"

  "If I could think right now, I'd tell you."

  She laughed, completely surprised. "I like you." She spoke without thinking, but what the hell, it was true. Then she picked up her glass and tossed back her wine. "And oh, look. I'm all finished with my drink."

  He did the same, setting the empty highball glass back on the table with a bang. "What do you know? I'm done, too."

  With a wicked smile, she pulled her foot away. "I guess the question now is, which one of us is going to beg. And for what?"

  "I have no shame," he countered, taking her hand and gently stroking her thumb. "Come to my room with me. I'm begging you."

  "You talked me into it," she said, melting from the sensation of his thumb brushing her skin.

  "Come on." He slid out of the chair, and she dipped her eyes to his package, then flashed him a completely unapologetic grin.

  "We should get you to a room."

  "That's my plan." He shifted a bit, as if uncomfortable, then started to walk toward the elevator. She walked beside him, fighting a smile.

  "You do realize the trouble you've gotten yourself in? Punishment might be swift and harsh."

  "A girl can dream."

  He chuckled.

  "Don't you need to sign the check?"

  He shook his head. "They know me."

  "If you say so..."

  He laughed. "I promise. It's all good. And right now, I really don't want to wait."

  That was a sentiment she could get fully behind, and she fell in beside him as they walked to the elevator. He took her hand as they stepped on, along with another couple so laden down with shopping bags they had to be tourists.

  He stood with his back to the wall and tugged her in front of him, then wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her close, nestling them together so tightly that she could feel his erection against the small of her back.

  The other couple stood close to the doors, as if wanting to ensure a quick escape. Which meant they weren't looking behind them. Which was probably why they didn't notice when one of Derek's hands snaked over her pelvis, coming to rest right on her pubic bone.

  Between that pressure and the sensation of his cock against her back, Amanda half-feared she might explode right then and there. Her body tingled all over, and she was hyperaware of every point of contact with Derek.

  She longed to strip naked and feel skin on skin, but that wasn't happening. Not quite yet, anyway. Instead, she bit her lower lip, swallowed, and tried to decide if she hoped the ride to their floor would be fast or very, very slow.

  As it turned out, the ride was fast. They were on seven, but so was the other couple. Which meant that there was no privacy for anything more than the intimate position they'd shared in the elevator.

  That was enough. As foreplay went, it was pretty damn effective, because by the time they stepped out of the car, Amanda's breasts were tight and sensitive, and her sex ached with a potent need.

  As far as she was concerned, he couldn't get the door open fast enough. And when he finally did push it open, she barely had time to hope that things would move fast before he'd pulled her roughly to him and was pulling at her shirt, tugging the light silk shell over her head.

  He looked at her then, just for a moment. A sigh slipped from his mouth, and he breathed, "You're so damn beautiful."

  "Please," she begged, her own fingers working to untuck his shirt. To feel the hard muscles of his abs beneath her skin.

  "I want to touch you. You--oh, God, Amanda, there's something about you that burns inside me. I can't wait. Or maybe I can, but I damn sure don't want to."

  "Me neither," she admitted. "Where's your bedroom?"

  He took her hand and led them both there. Then he tilted his head as if inspecting her.

  "What?"

  "I seem to recall you needing a punishment."

  "Oh, really? What did you have in mind?"

  "Strip for me."

  She shook her head. "Nope." She walked in front of him, then stood just inches from where he sat. She wore her heels, her skirt and her bra. Underwear, too, if a tiny, soaked thong counted.

  Slowly, she sucked in the tip of her finger. Then she slid it down under the waistband of her skirt to her clit, teasing herself for him to watch. He couldn't see what she was doing, of course, but it didn't matter. His eyes were on her, and the desire she saw there--wild, feral--made her so much wetter.

  "You want? Then you undress me." She turned, giving him access to the zipper.

  "Baby, I think we're going to have a very good time." He tugged the zipper down, then eased the skirt over her hips. "Beautiful," he murmured, stroking her ass. "Spread your legs, then bend over for me and grab your ankles."

  She did, and he got to his knees, then ran his tongue over the curve of her ass as he tugged her thong down, fully exposing her.

  So aroused she couldn't stand it, she bit her lower lip, afraid she'd come the moment he touched her. She didn't--but when he ran his tongue up her perineum, she almost lost her mind and begged him to fuck her.

 
"I told you I'd make you beg," he said, making her laugh even though she wanted to beg him some more.

  He moved away to the nightstand and returned with a condom. "I don't know how long I can wait," he said, as he sheathed himself. Then he unfastened her bra and she wriggled out of it, moaning in pleasure as his hot hands cupped her breasts.

  He played with her nipples as he moved his hips, stroking her from behind with the length of his erection.

  "You are so hot, Amanda," he said, and her name on his lips made her want him even more.

  "I want to see you." She turned around, standing naked now except for her heels. She put her hand flat on his chest, and pushed him to a seated position on the edge of the bed. Then she crawled on top of him so that her sex rubbed his erection as she closed her mouth over his, longing for another slow, consuming kiss.

  "No more, he said, roughly breaking the kiss. "I've got to be inside you."

  She laughed, then kissed him quick. "Now we're tied. You begged, too."

  "Vixen." He held her by the hips as he positioned her, teasing her core with his tip until he was one more point ahead because she'd begged for him to release her so that she could lower herself and take him all in.

  Since he wanted it just as badly, he didn't argue, and soon he was filling her as she rode him, her ankles crossed behind his back, and her hands at his hips so that she could pull him in deeper, too.

  "That's it, baby," he said, then closed his mouth on hers, sucking and teasing, then slipping one hand off her hip to move between them and rub her clit as their bodies pistoned together.

  Wild electric shivers began to break through her, long threads of electricity that were coalescing in her core. She arched back, and he took her breast in his mouth, then sucked, so hard and with such intensity that she felt the reverberations all the way in her sex.

  Mostly, she felt on fire. Her body alive. Aware. "I'm close," she told him. "Come with me. Derek, please come with me."

  He said nothing, but she watched his face as the storm approached. A violent passion that was playing out over his features, so alight with pleasure. A pleasure that she'd brought to him. That they'd created together.

  It felt magical--and as the thought entered her mind, that's when she exploded, rocking harder against him, wanting that extra friction to take her even further before they both ended up gasping and sated, their bodies limp on the still fully-made bed.

  "Wow," Amanda said when she could breathe again. She shifted until she was facing him, their legs twined together. "I mean, seriously, wow."

  Derek grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "You should." She eased toward him and kissed him. "I had a lovely time tonight."

  "That sounds like a goodbye."

  "Early meeting tomorrow." It was true, or else Amanda might have been tempted to stay. She realized then that she'd never told him what she did. Despite the fact that he clearly had money and might have a lead on more clients. Or be a client himself.

  That really wasn't like her, and the realization was a little unnerving.

  "You okay? Looks like I lost you there."

  "What? Oh." She kissed him again lightly to cover her distraction, then slipped out of bed. "My mind shifted into work mode. To be honest, I shouldn't have taken the time tonight--I have a lot of preparing to do." She flashed a genuine smile. "But I don't regret it at all."

  "Glad to hear it. Neither do I."

  He stayed on the bed, his eyes on her as she wriggled into her panties. Honestly, it was like doing a reverse strip tease, and for a moment she was tempted to change in the bathroom. But the approval and desire on his face erased all thoughts of escaping out of sight. On the contrary, she was tempted to yank the skirt up, crawl back into bed, and straddle him.

  Down girl.

  "I never did answer your question."

  "I know you're not in Hollywood," she said as she shrugged into her blouse. "But now I'm going with rock star. Your performance tonight was incredible."

  "I'm glad you liked the concert." He tossed the sheet aside, then walked naked to her, his hard body distracting her so thoroughly her fingers fumbled on the button of her skirt.

  His cocky grin suggested that he knew exactly why she was having a hard time, and he took over the job, his fingers brushing her heated skin as he slowly zipped and buttoned the skirt. "All dressed now. Seems a shame to cover up such a lovely view."

  "Well, maybe you can take another peek sometime."

  The moment the words were out of her mouth, Amanda froze. She hadn't intended to say that--the whole point of tonight was that it was a one-off. A way to scratch an itch without getting mired in complications.

  Point being, she'd expected and intended this to be a one-off. But then he said that he got to Austin every few months for work and asked if he could call her. And the only answer that sprang to her lips was, "Yes."

  "Good," he said, that simple word conveying so much emotion it seemed to wash over her.

  "I should tell you, though. I don't do relationships. My business is my relationship right now, you know? It's where my focus is. Something like today would be fun."

  "Indeed it would," he said,

  "Here." She pulled a card from her purse and handed it to him. "Business and cell." She licked her lips, then bit the bullet. "I really do hope you call."

  "I will," he said.

  She smiled, feeling awkward and a little giddy, then headed for the door. She'd just turned the lock, when he spoke again.

  "I never did answer you."

  "I know a lost cause when I see one," she quipped, then added, "Actually, don't tell me now. If we don't see each other again, it doesn't matter. And if we do, you can tell me then."

  Still naked, he crossed to her in four long strides, his eyes never leaving her face. Without a word, he pulled her to him, then made her legs go weak under the force of his hot, demanding kiss.

  When he released her, she was breathing hard, her body begging her to chuck work for the day and spend it in bed.

  His smile suggested he knew exactly what she was thinking, but all he said was, "It's a deal."

  Chapter Three

  Anthony Winston took a sip of orange juice as he studied his son.

  The ritual was familiar, if unpleasant, and Derek sat up straight and stayed quiet, letting his father see whatever he'd see. Not that the inspection mattered much. In Derek's experience, his father saw what he wanted to, not what was there.

  With Derek, Anthony saw a screw-up. A man more interested in having a good time than working for the family business. Which had been true a decade ago.

  But he was thirty-six now, and things had changed. The family business was important to him, something that he proved every day in the office, where he did one hell of a fine job, if he did say so himself.

  He had to say so himself, because his father damn sure never did.

  And then there was Derek's sister, Melinda. Derek loved her dearly, but Mellie was a flake. In Anthony's eyes, however, she could do no wrong. According to the elder Winston, the fiasco with the pool remodel she was supposedly overseeing at the Winston family ranch had nothing to do with her scatterbrained tendencies. As far as Anthony was concerned, the construction manager had been entirely at fault. Not his precious Mellie.

  Of course, Anthony Winston's vision was much more clear where his business was concerned. There, every detail was seen, analyzed, and comprehended in meticulous detail.

  Which begged the question of why, if Derek was such a screw-up, was he the one going to Austin to negotiate with the owners of the South Congress Motor Inn. True, the deal had been Derek's idea, but Anthony Winston liked to be in the thick of things. He wasn't the type to hand off negotiations simply because someone else had conceived a project.

  Could it be that underneath the constant criticism, his father had a clearer vision than Derek had realized?

  He didn't know. All he knew was that if he screwed it up, his father would have his h
ead on a platter, breaded and fried for lunch. Probably served with a nice Chianti.

  Now, Anthony took another sip of juice, then scowled when Derek finished off his cup of coffee. "You should drink your juice, not coffee. That's your third cup. Too much caffeine dulls the senses. You need to be sharp."

  Derek bit back a sigh, ignoring his still-full juice glass. "I'm sharp, Dad. Sharp enough to know that you didn't order me to the ranch this morning just so you could criticize my caffeine habit."

  The ranch was Winston Ranch, four hundred and ten acres in the Oak Cliff neighborhood of the City of Dallas. Right then, Derek and his father were under the cabana by the pool being served breakfast by a waitstaff so efficient every one of them could have worked at any top New York restaurant. They didn't, though, because Anthony Winston paid them too well.

  Years ago, the ranch had spread out over a much larger area and had been an actual working ranch. But that was before Derek's time, and he only knew about it because the sale of that excess land, coupled with his great-grandfather's decision to build a showpiece hotel in downtown Dallas, had been the catalyst for the Winston family fortune. Which, frankly, was vast.

  Now, the ranch served as the family home, with the main house, his sister's smaller home, a twenty-car garage, and a few scattered cottages for the staff. Fifteen acres stood in Derek's name, waiting for him to build a home, too. But that wasn't something he intended to do. He enjoyed working in the family business, but he wanted his own niche. And that meant focusing on new directions at the Winston corporation, many of which took him away from Dallas. More important, he had no desire to live on the ranch, where every time he looked to the sky, all he'd see was his father's eye looking down into the microscope. He got enough of that from working with the man.

  Anthony put down his juice glass and silently sat back in his chair, studying Derek. His father was a big man, with the same broad shoulders that Derek saw every time he looked in a mirror. He could also be intimidating as hell.

  Today, Derek wasn't intimidated. Quite the opposite. Today, he was irritated. "I need to get to the airport. Why the summons to the castle?"

  "Because the reputation of this company requires that the South Congress Motor Inn deal be handled with finesse."

  Derek leaned back, his fingers steepled. "Have you forgotten that I originated this deal? That the entire concept driving this acquisition was mine?"