Love On My Mind (15 page)

“Not for long.”

He braced a hand against the window and trailed his index finger from her clavicle down her sternum to the top of her breasts. Her silken skin gave way easily. Her head tilted back and she arched into his touch.

“Can I see you?” he asked.

She nodded.

He edged his fingers beneath the straps of her dress and drew them down her shoulders until the garment fell to her feet in a puddle of fabric. He crouched down, going on a visual journey from her flat stomach, the curve of her hip, her delicate pink panties, and her strong and supple thighs. She placed her hands on his shoulders and lifted one stiletto-clad foot at a time to step out of her discarded dress, which he instantly tossed aside. The pink of her panties against her dark skin was like a prettily wrapped treat and the scent of her arousal called to him. He pressed a kiss to the scrap of material covering her. Then he rose, his hands skimming up the sides of her body until he was once again standing. His blood raced through his body until he swore he could hear it coursing through his veins.

How did he get so damned lucky?

Peering closely he could see a clasp between the satiny cups of her bra. He flicked it open, baring her breasts to his gaze and he inhaled with reverence. His palms tingled as the heavy teardrop-shaped globes filled his hands. Her lashes dropped to half-mast and her lips parted as she watched him. He drew his thumb over the dark chocolate-hued tip.

Her breath hitched and, again, her back arched toward him.

“Do you like that?” he asked, forcing the words past a throat thickened with hunger.

“Yes,” she said, her own voice husky.

He did it again, noting how she leaned into the caress. The nipple was an erogenous zone full of thousands of nerve endings sensitive to stimuli, and Chelsea liked being touched there. Wanting to please her further, he grazed his thumb over her other nipple. She moaned and the sound arrowed straight to his cock.

An audible response, suggesting a more heightened reaction. He tweaked her right nipple, then her left, flushing with heat when her lashes fanned against her cheekbones and she moaned again, swiveling her pelvis in a needy motion. While she enjoyed the sensation of both breasts being touched, her left nipple was extremely sensitive.

Using that information, he rubbed, tweaked, and licked until she moaned, twisted, and quivered in his arms. She was responsive to his every touch, her sounds of pleasure almost his undoing. He loved being the cause of such an intense reaction. He feathered his tongue up her neck and bit down on her earlobe. She gasped and bucked against him and he smiled, soothing the sting with his tongue. The heat of their bodies fogged the glass. She slid her hands around his hips to grasp his ass, gyrating herself against him.

“Tell me how it feels,” he said, yearning to know everything about her.

“Hmmm?” she moaned.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s . . . oh God . . . slow and heavy . . . and thick . . .” She trailed off on another moan.

“Is it too much?”

“It’s perfect,” she whimpered, and his cock swelled.

He reached down to cup her through the silky material of her panties, then rubbed the heel of his palm against her, knowing the friction would feel good against her clitoris. She moaned and rotated her hips, grinding against his hand.

Ahhh baby . . .

He grabbed the waistband of her panties and yanked them down. The clitoris was the most sensitive female erogenous zone, but he didn’t know if she’d enjoy direct stimulation. So he aimed for the area around it, using his middle finger to massage in slow circular motions through her folds. She arced into his touch and her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin with a pleasurable sting. When his finger was slick from her arousal, he dragged his thumb through the wetness and rubbed it back and forth against her clit before pressing it firmly. Her hips jerked and he captured the resulting moan with his tongue. He engaged all of his fingers to stroke her, alternating the pace and the pressure, noting her quickening breath, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

Having an idea of what she liked based on how she responded, he tweaked her left breast and stroked her clitoris. She undulated against his hand, her torso maneuvering against him. She began to tremble and her head tipped back, her moans issuing in an increasingly frequent staccato. He slipped two fingers inside of her, pressed against her front wall, and bit down on her earlobe. She cried out and came apart in his arms.

Fuck, he was about to explode. His body couldn’t be equipped to handle this level of arousal. Watching her come was better than solving a thousand equations, better than developing next-gen software. What he’d done had comprised only one combination of moves to get her off. He wanted to play with her until he’d uncovered every combination to achieve that same result.

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and sagged against him. “Good God,” she breathed.

He unfastened the clip holding her curls and let them tumble down her back. “I refuse to let God take credit for that.”

She looked at him wide-eyed, then laughed.

He smiled and kissed her, and it wasn’t long before the playful embrace turned frenzied. Passion beat through his body, seeking release. She pulled on his belt, her fingers fumbling as she undid the clasp. She unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and reached for him. He surged into the tightness of her hand. He was hard and hot and he covered her hands with his, pressing her grip tighter around him as he stroked in and out of her palms. He closed his eyes and his head lolled to the side. Having her hands on him was amazing, but it was a pale imitation of what he wanted from her.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

The thought of leaving her and walking the few feet necessary to grab the prophylactic from his desk seemed like torture, but he did it, returning a few seconds later with the packet in his hand. He put it between his teeth and tore it, quickly sheathing himself. She licked her lips.

“Next time I want to taste you,” she said.

“Me, first,” he said, aware that they were both acknowledging there would be another time.

He lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock was inches away from the hot entrance to her body. He pressed her upper shoulders against the window, kissed the corner of her mouth, and surged inside of her.

He paused, his body aching as he strained to retain control. He was in serious danger of coming right then, but he willed it back, needing more time within her sweet body. He locked his legs, cupped her hips, and tilted upward, giving him deeper penetration as he stroked in and out. She moaned loudly and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Her heat pulsed against his cock, the suction warm and thick and threatening to drive him mad. He squeezed her ass and varied his strokes: shallow and fast, deep and slow. When he bent his knees to change the angle of penetration, she shivered, and her eyes slammed shut. He stared at her, wanting to remember the erotic pleasure etched on her face.

Far too soon the muscles of her inner walls began to pull at him, suck and massage him from the inside. His body responded with the telltale tightening at the base of his spine and tingling waves that radiated from his scrotum. A second later, she clamped down on his length and called out her release. He roared as his own powerful orgasm ripped through him.

“Can I give God credit for that?” she asked, panting, a few minutes later.

“No, but we can thank him,” he said, managing a wheezy laugh.

After he caught his breath, he slid from her, lamenting the loss of her warmth. He kissed her and she snuggled against him, never opening her eyes. He carried her to his bedroom, laid her on the bed, and hurried into the adjoining bathroom to clean up. When he returned, she was lying on her side, turned away from him. He slipped into bed behind her and curved his arm around her middle, pulling her back to him. He hauled the duvet up to cover them. He thought she’d fallen asleep, so was surprised when she took his hand, kissed it, and placed it over her heart.

Only then did all the questions come tumbling forth. Had he sated his desire for her, now that he’d determined their chemistry wasn’t created by circumstance?

Hell, no.

Tonight had been better than he’d imagined, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He’d need more of her, and not just sexually. But how would that function? Had he managed to convince her that they could work well together, both in and out of bed? Or would the sunrise bring a choice he didn’t want to make?

He could wait until after the presentation and then pursue her, but his body rejected that notion as soon as his brain thought of it. He didn’t want to go another day without experiencing the pleasure of being inside of her. And then there was the issue of his diagnosis. When should he tell her? Did she deserve to know? And could he take it if she rejected him like Birgitta or his mother?

He shook his head. Today had been about spending time with Chelsea away from work and it had been one of the best days of his life. Tomorrow he’d figure out if things between them would change. He nuzzled her curls and drifted into a restful slumber.

Chapter Fourteen

C
HELSEA WOKE TO
sunlight streaming across her face. She stretched and the white, high thread count sheets slid over her skin in an echo of Adam’s tenderest caress. She smiled. The man was talented. His touch, his kiss, his lovemaking was beyond anything she’d experienced before.

He played her body like a maestro discovering a new instrument, learning what movements she responded to and then repeating the series until she’d become a frenzied mass of pleasure. She’d never been on the receiving end of such studied focus. It was an experience she was eager to repeat.

She reached over and trailed her fingertips over the cool space. Adam must’ve been up for a while. He’d woken her in the early hours, making love to her again with the same quiet intensity she was learning he brought to everything he attempted.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she looked around for something to cover her naked body. She definitely wasn’t putting on the dress from last night. A gray shirt was neatly folded over the back of a chair in the corner. She stepped into her discarded panties and tiptoed across the room to grab it. She slid the large Henley over her body, the hem settling mid-thigh.

Walking into the great room, she found him standing in front of his desk, his chest bare, a pair of running pants slung low on his hips. A partially finished glass of his breakfast smoothie sat near the edge. Her lips parted and a swell of heat roared through her body. Her fingers clutched the wall near her for support and she leaned against it, taking in the arresting picture he made, his hair tousled, his body lean perfection. Navigating the haze created by her gawking, it took several moments before she realized he was talking to someone by speakerphone.

“We’re stoked about Computronix’s product launch. We’ve heard some amazing things,” an excited voice rushed.

The product launch? Who was he talking to?

“The whispers you’ve heard will fail to live up to the reality.” Adam stood in front of the window, his posture strong but relaxed, bouncing a small green-and-yellow ball between both hands.

“We won’t hold you long.” This from a different voice. “Our plan is to do a brief segment we’ll insert into our podcast prior to the launch.”

She looked around, positive she’d misheard. A podcast?

“I understand.”

“Great. And now we’re recording. Welcome to
Tech Today, Gone Tomorrow
. We’re here with Adam Bennett, CEO of Computronix. How’s it going, man?”

“Busy. Computronix’s latest product launch is next week. It’s our biggest one in five years.”

“Can you give us any specifics?”

“Of course not,” Adam said.

Absently, she smoothed her hair back and lifted the heavy mass, letting it sift through her fingers as she listened, trying to comprehend what was occurring. Adam was doing a podcast without her knowledge or guidance?

“You can’t blame us for trying,” Host A said. “If you won’t answer specifics about your new tech, can you talk to us, generally, about the future of Computronix?”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. What in the hell was he doing? This was his first interview since they’d begun working together and he didn’t think she should be notified, let alone involved? Quivering images of the
People
press conference scrolled through her mind as if the memories themselves understood what was at stake. She prayed the conversation would continue smoothly. That he’d consider his answers before he gave them. And when the interview concluded she was going to wring his neck.

“The future of Computronix? How much time do you have?” Adam laughed. “The world is changing quicker than previous generations are prepared to tolerate. Millennials are the largest generation in the country, representing a third of the population. They’ve matured during technology’s massive growth and they want it seamlessly integrated into their lives. Meeting that aim is my singular focus in the next three to five years.”

Chelsea’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t have written a more comprehensive answer. What was more astonishing was Adam delivered it with ease and charm and without any prompt from her.

“We’re creating a first-class experience for our users,” he said. “We want them to associate essential innovation with Computronix.”

He was gesturing widely, alternating between clutching the ball in his hands and playing a solo game of toss-up. He was in his element and his enjoyment of the subject matter was apparent.
This
was the Adam who needed to show up for the product launch. He was charismatic, relaxed, and, important for him, responsive.

She now had evidence that Adam Bennett could give a successful presentation. She needed to re-create this experience at the launch and lengthen it threefold.

“We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us,” Host B said. “We’re stoked for the presentation. We have one more question.”

“Why not?”

“Are you concerned that the debacle of your last launch will contaminate this one?”

The muscles in Adam’s back tensed. He caught the ball and set it firmly on his desk.

“No,” he said, tersely. Gone was the agreeableness of moments ago. His posture was as stiff and inflexible as a newly Botoxed brow.

Shit.

Host A chimed in. “A few years ago, any device released by Computronix was an automatic buy. After the last one, insiders are skeptical. How do you plan to handle their loss of faith?”

Adam clenched his fingers into fists and dropped his head, exhaling sharply from his nose. Chelsea winced. This wasn’t good. She wanted to step in, but that would make things worse. A good publicist stayed behind the scenes and never made herself a part of the story. Interrupting the interview shifted the story from the device to the developer. But what if he uttered an inflammatory comment? She rolled her eyes heavenward. None of this would be happening if he’d told her about the interview in the first place.

“Adam? Are you still with us? What’s your response to our follow-up?”

“If podcasts were regulated by the FCC, my response would engender a large fine.”

“You know we’re fans,” Host B said, “but it’s the natural question to ask.”

“And I have a natural response when I’m being attacked.”

He clicked off his phone and tossed it aside.

“Fuck!” He shoved his hands into his hair and clutched tufts between his fingers.

That was the worst thing he could have done. “Call them back.”

He whirled around. “Chelsea—”

“We’ll tell them you were accidentally disconnected.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“Who cares?” This wasn’t the time for his Honest Abe routine. She charged across the room until they stood toe to toe. “Why were you doing an interview? Especially an interview I knew nothing about?”

“It was an industry tech podcast that Anya scheduled for me three weeks ago.”

“So you had plenty of notice.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You should’ve told me about this. I’m supposed to help you prepare.”

He cupped her cheek, then trailed his hands down her arms to grip her elbows, pulling her close to his hard body. Her breath caught in her throat at the blaze of emotion she saw burning in his hooded gaze.

“You looked so peaceful sleeping,” he whispered. “So beautiful in my bed. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She shook her head, as if the action would clear away the sensual cobwebs his presence was weaving. She pushed out of his embrace. “You should’ve awakened me.”

What had she been thinking? One act on the personal side of their relationship may have undone them professionally. How many times had she handled a version of this story? She’d allowed incredible sex, dreamy eyes, and washboard abs to momentarily obscure the vision of her partnership. She was here for one reason only: to help Adam prepare for his presentation. How could she have forgotten that? She bowed her head and shook it slightly so that her curls swung forward to curtain her face. Pressing her hands to her cheeks, she imagined the burn of shame singed her fingertips. She didn’t deserve the partnership.

He reached for her again, but she took a step back and his arms dropped to his sides. “I’ve recorded podcasts with them before and found them reasonable and fair. They’re interested in my work, not boxers versus briefs or Team Edward versus Team Jacob, though I still don’t understand that cultural reference.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at her from beneath his thick lashes. “I was certain I could handle it alone.”

“Now we know better.”

“I don’t understand your response.”

“I’m upset,” she said, stating the obvious. “You were doing so well. Why didn’t you use those deep breathing exercises I taught you?”

“I terminated the call. I didn’t curse or break into a tirade.”

Her back teeth became intimately acquainted as she ground them together. “You hung up on this interview, you walked out of your last one. Your media abandonment is now a trend. I swear, Adam, you’re doing their work for them. The copy about you is practically writing itself.”

She ignored the twinge of guilt that reminded her she owned stock in this colossal screw-up.

“This isn’t significant enough to warrant your reaction.”

“You don’t know that. This isn’t your field of expertise. It’s mine,” she said, hitting her chest with her hand. “And you’re supposed to be smart enough to realize that fucking me wouldn’t change that.”

The vein in his forehead throbbed. “It appears I made a rare error in judgment.”

“You lost your composure. You can’t do that at the product launch. These guys were supporters of yours. At the launch you’ll have allies in the audience, but there’ll also be skeptics and people who want to tear you down. You’ve got to be able to respond better than you just did, or what the hell have we been doing? Wasting our time?”

“Nothing about the past two weeks has been a waste of time. I’ve met you and that makes this entire experience worthwhile.”

She softened. Damn him and his way with words.

No.

She straightened and steeled herself against his earnest charisma, using the warm indignation of her anger as a shield. “What happened? Why did that last question rattle you?”

“I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Why not? You aren’t the first company to roll out a product that underperformed. Surely you knew that might be an issue?”

He sighed and shook his head. “It wasn’t the product’s performance, although that was a problem. It was the timing of the release.”

He sat in his desk chair and held out his hand to her. She hesitated, knowing they needed to have this conversation and not wanting to confuse her role again. This was Chelsea, the PR professional, trying to determine what had gone wrong during the interview. Not Chelsea, the woman, wanting to comfort the man with whom she was sleeping. But the downward tilt of his brows and the tension brackets around his mouth burrowed through her intent. She took his hand and allowed him to pull her down onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his head against her back. His words vibrated through her as he talked.

“Several years ago I conceived an idea for a mini video game console that would end hardware loyalty and allow you to play whatever game you desired, no matter the system for which it had been designed. Gaming was an arena I was interested in, but one we hadn’t explored.”

There was information on that device in the research Mike had given her. If she recalled correctly, Computronix released it over a year ago.

“Then I met Birgitta at a party Jonathan dragged me to in San Francisco.”

Chelsea’s chest tightened. This would’ve been less painful before she’d slept with him.

Adam and Birgitta had been a media sensation. His dark, vivid good looks and her pale, angelic beauty made them a photographer’s dream. Their courtship and breakup had landed them on the covers of countless entertainment magazines. Chelsea wished she’d paid more attention, but she’d been in the midst of handling a public relations nightmare involving an athlete and allegations of performance-enhancing drug use.

“She was beautiful, amusing, and we began dating. What I liked most about her was her independence. In case you didn’t notice”—Adam brushed her curls over one shoulder and placed a kiss on the nape of her neck—“I can get engrossed in my work. But she had her own life. Between fashion shows and international photo shoots, Birgitta was away most of the time we dated. I found that schedule acceptable. Preferable, even.”

Of course. Adam could focus on his work and still reap the benefits of a “relationship.”

“Computronix had just released our newest mobile phone to great acclaim and economic success. I was subjected to a lot of press attention. Birgitta loved it. I did not.” He sighed and tightened his arms around her waist. “I don’t enjoy large crowds of people or being the center of attention. Birgitta thought that would change, that I would become accustomed to it and grow to glorify it as she did. When I assured her I wouldn’t, and explained why, she told me she understood. It was a lie. Later she disclosed that she found my . . . quirks tiresome. She wanted to be with someone with less defects.”

Chelsea narrowed her eyes. Just because he admitted he’d never be the life of the party? She pictured the lanky model-turned-professional-snowboarder currently sharing Birgitta’s spotlight. A huge step down, in her opinion. She stroked Adam’s arm where it rested on her hip.

“It was a relief,” he continued. “The game console was turning out to be more difficult than I’d originally anticipated, but I relished the challenge. Birgitta was forgotten until I was besieged by requests for interviews. Reporters staked out the Computronix campus, harassing our employees, hunting for quotes. They wanted to know how the genius could be duped by the blonde bombshell.

“She was involved with someone else and they’d discovered she’d been screwing him the entire time she’d been with me. They’d been photographed together all around the world. They had evidence that she’d been with him in Europe the day before she flew back to the States to attend a gala with me. She’d been lying to me the entire time. Using me to take her career to the next level. Mike said the story would fade away, but it didn’t. For weeks, new stories would emerge where the press depicted me as a moron.”