Devilishly Wicked (15 page)

G
eorgia wasn’t sure when she dozed off, but when she woke up, the television was still on. An infomercial about some contraption of a workout machine was on with an overly excited spokesman telling a studio audience this was the easiest way to build ab muscles and lose weight that he’d ever encountered.

Georgia blinked, trying to clear her sleep-clouded brain, looking around to see Tristan asleep in the chair near her, his head bent at a strange angle and his expensive black suit coat serving as a blanket.

She watched him for a moment, taking in the steady rise and fall of his chest. The beauty of his face relaxed in sleep. He looked almost too handsome to be real. He looked like a fallen angel, too perfect for this world.

He shifted slightly in his sleep, obviously trying to find a more comfortable position, but he didn’t open his eyes, allowing her to continue her perusal.

Even in her own sleepy haze, her body reacted to him. She wanted him. She had wanted him desperately earlier, during their second kiss. It had taken every bit of her willpower to stay in here while he finished making her tea. She’d wanted to go back into the kitchen and have sex with him right there on the kitchen counter. Or the floor. Or both.

Only the fact that he was her boss stopped her, and looking at him now, she again struggled to care about that detail. She’d never known a need like the one coursing through her. It was clouding her thoughts and making it impossible to remember all the reasons she should not want him.

So she lay there, repeating them all over and over in her head. He’s your boss. He’s nothing but a player. He’s too good looking for his own, or your own, good. She couldn’t risk her job, especially with Grammy hurt. He might be a member of the mob.

That last one she dismissed instantly, deciding then and there, that odd Gabriel person was a nutter. The only way Tristan McIntyre was dangerous was to her heart. She could easily fall for him. Especially when he took care of her the way he had last night. She found that so appealing, because she was used to being the one who took care of things. She did so at the job and she did so at home. So having him stick around last night while Grammy was examined and moved from the ER into a hospital room, then coming home with her and staying to look after her, well, it was a rare delight. That made him all the more appealing, if such a thing was possible.

But it was possible. She found him damned near irresistible, which had been obvious from her reaction to his kiss in the kitchen. If the teakettle hadn’t whistled, and if Tristan hadn’t ended their embrace right then, Georgia knew she wouldn’t have.

She gazed at him a moment longer, then reached out to touch his hand, which dangled over the arm of the chair. He had beautiful hands with broad palms and long, tapered fingers. They were hands that managed to look masculine and elegant at the same time. Talented hands.

She imagined how talented they would be touching her body, bringing her to arousal. She ran a fingertip over his palm, tracing the lines there, moving out to graze over the length of each finger.

Her attention was so focused on her fleeting touch, she didn’t immediately notice the change in Tristan, not until his fingers curled loosely around hers.

Her eyes shot up to find Tristan awake, watching her.

“Hi,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Hi,” she said back.

Neither pulled their hand away from the other; they just remained still in the flickering light of the television, studying each other.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked, his thumb caressing the side of the hand he held.

No, no, she wasn’t. She wanted him so desperately it was almost painful. But she didn’t say that. How could she say such a thing to him? Her boss. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

After a moment, when it was clear she wasn’t going to answer, because she couldn’t, he straightened, although he didn’t release his hold on her hand.

He did flex his muscles, stretching his neck and back.

“Maybe I should go,” he said, although again he made no move to release her. “It’s got to be almost morning and I should go back to my place to get ready for another workday.”

She nodded, but still his thumb stroked over the skin of her palm.

“Don’t come in today,” he said, his voice low and gentle, at odds with the businesslike things he was saying. “Get your grandmother home and settled. I should be able to make it one day without you. But only one.”

She knew he referred to doing without her only as his personal assistant, but still her heart leapt at his words.

She still didn’t speak though. He regarded her a moment longer, then stood. Their hands remained connected, fingers intertwined.

“I should go,” he repeated and started to slowly extract his hold from hers. But her own fingers tightened, refusing to let go.

Inside, she struggled to find the words she wanted to say, that she’d wanted to say since their very first kiss. She couldn’t let this moment go.

She was clearly losing her mind. Everything about what she wanted to ask, to tell him, was wrong. It could put her whole life and her heart at jeopardy, but she felt this might be her only opportunity to do something like this. Something so wanton and outrageous.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice sounding husky and foreign even to herself.

“Georgia,” Tristan said, his tone uncertain. That uncertainty should have been enough to make her doubt what she was thinking. But it didn’t. Something deep inside pushed her forward.

She tugged his hand, urging him to come closer to her. He did.

“I want you to stay,” she told him, only hesitating for a moment before adding, “I want you.”

He studied her for a heartbeat, and then made a noise low in his throat. A desperate, hungry sound like a man who’d been denied food and now found himself in front of a buffet.

He stepped forward, his movements odd, almost as if he was being drawn to her, not against his will, but helpless to do anything else.

She rose up on the sofa, looking at him, feeling very much the same way. Despite all the reasons she knew she shouldn’t do this, even consider it, she was unable to do anything else.

He stood before her, and she rose up farther until she was on her knees, her face level with his chest. He looked down at her, his eyes smoldering, his breath coming in short little gasps. He was as affected as she was, as desperate and filled with need. That realization gave her courage.

She reached up and touched his face, pressing her hand to his cheek. She could feel the hint of stubble there, the slight roughness exciting.

He turned his head, kissing her palm, a kiss that hinted at the way he planned to kiss her whole body. Openmouthed kisses, nipping and with a small lick here and there. With that one kiss to her palm, he seemed to make a silent promise that he was going to explore her whole body with his mouth.

The idea made her moan, and she felt his smile against her open hand.

He met her gaze again, just a hint of the smile curving his perfectly sculpted lips. That smug little smile she found so utterly masculine, so sexy.

She rose up farther, so as he looked down at her, her upturned head was just below his, her lips just inches away from that smile.

The smile faded, replaced by a smoldering look of pure desire. It was her turn to smile, her own self-satisfied little grin.

Desire flared in Tristan’s eyes.

That look spurred Georgia on, making her bolder. Her fingers moved to his shirt, working the buttons open, starting at his throat and going downward, exposing more and more of his hard, muscular chest with each button undone.

She slid her hands inside the fine fabric, feeling his smooth skin and rippling muscles. He stood still, letting her hands explore him, then her mouth as she kissed his chest. Her lips found his puckered nipple, licking it, and then gently sucking.

Tristan made that desperate growling noise again, and she could feel his body quiver as if it was taking all his willpower to remain motionless. But he didn’t move, allowing her to touch him, allowing her to set the pace.

She teased his nipples a little longer, until she swore she could feel and hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest. The idea that he was so turned on made her almost wild with need herself.

Her hands moved to his pants, struggling with the belt. As if mirroring her own frantic desire, he pushed her hands away and undid it himself, pulling the whole thing out of his pants and tossing it on the floor.

She smiled up at him, so pleased by his frenzied reaction. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. What an amazing and heady feeling.

Her fingers returned to his pants to make short work of the button and zipper. She eased the designer pants down over his narrow hips to reveal the designer boxer briefs underneath. But it was his erection under that, hard and heavy, that drew her attention. She pushed the boxers down and his cock bobbed free.

Her eyes widened, and she gaped up at him. He was huge.

A moment of reality sneaked in. What was she doing? She couldn’t handle this man, and not just his huge penis; she couldn’t handle anything about him.

But Tristan smiled that smug smile of his, which contradicted his pleading tone as he said, “Please touch me. Damn, please.”

She felt that surge of control again—of power. He wanted her. He’d beg to have her. Nothing had ever turned her on more than the idea of this man begging her to have sex with him.

She took his cock into her hand, amazed at the girth and the weight. She’d never seen anything like it. Not that she was exactly an expert when it came to this department, but she was hardly a virgin either.

But she couldn’t take her eyes off of it, as if she’d never seen one before. Never touched one. She stroked her fingers up and down the long length, testing where he liked to be touched best. One place would make him gasp. Another, moan. Circling the head made him say, “Oh, shit,” in a deep, guttural tone. She liked that one best.

And she got even more of that response as she leaned forward and licked the head. She moaned, too, loving the warm, slightly salty taste of him. It was earthy and seductive and made her want more, but he only allowed a few full-mouth tastes before he caught her shoulders and gently nudged her away.

“You’ve gotten to play,” he said, his voice husky and raw, the richness gone, blocked out by pure need. “Now I want to explore you.”

Again, reality returned. She wanted him to touch her and taste her, but she also knew she wasn’t some tiny model. She had hips and boobs and a belly. And she couldn’t bear to see his desire replaced by displeasure or worse, disgust.

But his eyes still burned with hunger as he reached for the hem of her camisole top and lifted it up over her head. His smoldering eyes, like emerald fire, locked on her bare breasts.

He groaned. “I can’t tell you how many times I imagined baring you like this.” He cupped a breast in each hand, their size filling his palms; then he ran his thumbs over the sensitive nipples that puckered and pouted under his touch.

She gasped as he pinched and rolled the nipple between his forefinger and thumb. The delicious sensation, somewhere between delight and a deep ache, spread through her body, going straight to the throbbing heat between her thighs.

“I imagined doing this,” he said, leaning forward to suck one of her distended nipples deep between his lips, drawing on the sensitive flesh to make her whole body react.

Her head fell back as he suckled her, first one breast, and then the other.

He continued to suck and nip and tease her, even as he caught her under her arms and pulled her to her feet in front of him. He pushed at her pajama bottoms until they pooled around her feet in a puddle of fuzzy fleece. He shifted back to get a better view of her. She was naked except for the red lace boy shorts she’d bought to match the dress.

He didn’t speak for a moment, and more doubts niggled at her. Then he pulled in an unsteady breath, his eyes filled with something akin to awe.

“You are so much more beautiful than I even imagined you.” He then offered her a crooked smile. “And believe me, I’ve imagined you a lot.”

That smile, that look of reverence, blotted out all her fears. She smiled, moving closer to him, pressing her breasts against his chest and her hips into his.

“Show me what else you imagined.”

He growled, and pulled her fully against him.

“Oh, darling, you do not need to ask that twice.”

He kissed her, his mouth frenzied against hers. Then he grabbed her hand and led her into the center of the room.

To her surprise, he kneeled in front of her. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties, and slowly eased them down over her full hips. He untangled them from around her feet and cast them aside. He raised his head, his face level with the apex of her thighs.

His gaze was again worshipful as he looked at her close-shaved mons.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to run a finger between the full lips down there. His finger glistened with her desire and he licked the juices from it.

They both moaned.

“You taste like heaven,” he said, his voice rich again, stroking over her skin like another hand. “Not that I have any idea what heaven tastes like. Not that I’ve even wondered until this moment.”

She wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. His fingers now parted her, exposing the wet pink flesh of her sex. Then he delved his tongue into her, finding the hard bud of her clitoris, licking and sucking until she had to grasp his shoulders to keep herself upright.

He continued to eat her, alternating between exquisite roughness and extreme gentleness, going on as orgasm after orgasm washed over her, each one more intense than the one before.