More Than a Fling? (7 page)

His erection was hard and unapologetic against her back and she
struggled to keep her hands from reaching back and feeling him; she wanted to
know him up close and personal.

Very,
very
personal.

‘Sweetheart, anything is better than country music.’

‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’

Ally tried to interject some feistiness into her voice but her
words just came out low and sexy. She felt loose and warm and very, very
relaxed. And Ross’s fingers drawing figures of eight on her hip were making
sparks run along her nerve-endings straight to her lady parts.

‘Let me stay tonight,’ Ross murmured.

Ally looked at his reflection in the glass and saw her lust
reflected in his eyes.

‘I can’t. We shouldn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Ross asked, his words fluttering against the cord in
her neck.

‘Because we are doing business.’ Ally managed to find the
words, to force them out. ‘Nothing is concluded, settled. I don’t want you to
think that I use sex...’

Ross swore. ‘The other night proved that you don’t.’

‘But still...’ Ally tipped her head back as Ross’s lips nibbled
on her jaw. ‘Besides, I’m not...’

Ross’s mouth stopped its exploration and he waited for her to
continue. When she didn’t he filled in the silence. ‘Not ready? Too soon?’

Ally nodded, thankful that he was astute enough to pick up on
what she was feeling without her having to say the words.

Ross turned her around, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he
pulled the band from her ponytail, swept his fingers through her hair, raking
strands off her face.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured as her hair fell to her
shoulders to spill over the fabric of her T-shirt.

Ally watched, mesmerised, as his fingers danced down her throat
and over her chest. Ross buried his face into the curve of her neck as he cupped
her breasts, easily covering them with his big, broad, dangerous hands. Then she
remembered that they shouldn’t be doing this and she stiffened.

Ross rubbed her nipple with his thumb. ‘Relax, Al. Nothing is
going to happen that you don’t want to. Trust me.’

She lifted her arms to curl them around his neck, lifting her
breasts higher and forcing her nipples into his palms. Ross responded by rubbing
his thumbs over the hard nubs, lazily watching her eyes fog up. He bunched the
bottom of her shirt in his fist and pulled it upwards, gradually revealing her
flat stomach and her chest to his appreciative gaze. He looked at her
see-through lace bra with obvious appreciation.

‘Oh, yeah...’ he muttered, ducking his head and placing his
lips over her lace-covered nipple, drawing it into his mouth, lightly nipping it
with his teeth and soothing the flicker of pain with his clever tongue.

Above his head Ally moaned, clasped his head and held it to her
breast. Ross responded by slipping his hand between her legs and unerringly
finding her sweet spot through the layers of her clothes.

‘God, Ross...’ Ally murmured. ‘That feels so good.’

‘I know, honey.’

Ross pulled her shirt up and over her head. Then he pulled the
cup of her bra aside and tasted her nipple without the barrier of lace while he
slid down her Capris and pushed them over her hips so that they ended up in a
pile around her feet.

Ally tried to protest, but then his hand was in her panties,
sliding through her strip of pubic hair and into her slit, touching her clit
with his thumb. She yelped, and then one long finger pushed into her tight
passage.

Ally let out another yelp of piercing pleasure. ‘God, Ross, we
should stop,’ she panted, even though her hips were pushing down on his finger,
his thumb, demanding more. She almost cried when Ross pulled out of her, but
then his two hands were on her hips and she was lifted and carried to the desk,
where he pushed her laptop out of the way to make room for her.

‘Not a chance,’ Ross stated, spreading her knees apart with his
thigh. With one quick twist the ties of her G-string snapped and he pulled the
triangle away from her so that it fell from the desk, revealing her to his hot
and heated gaze.

‘As I said...beautiful.’

‘Ross...’ Ally muttered, squirming against the cold wooden
desk, desperately—selfishly—wanting him to resume what he’d been doing.

Instead of touching her down below, he touched his lips to the
corner of her mouth. ‘What do you need, baby?’

‘What you were doing... I shouldn’t ask because I
can’t...won’t... We shouldn’t...’ Ally spoke, but she was not sure if she was
making sense. She just wanted him touching her so knowingly, so perfectly.

‘You want more?’

Ally placed her hands on the desk behind her and arched her
back as his finger rolled down the column of her throat, down her chest and
across one nipple.

‘Do you want me to touch you?’

‘Yes! God, it’s been so long.’

Ally dropped her head back as that finger—that knowing,
amazing, lightning-infused finger—explored her belly button, went lower, touched
her bead and slid into her hot, wet, demanding passage. Then a second finger
joined the first, and his tongue swirled into her panting mouth as he stroked
her bead, and she launched herself up and shouted with embarrassing abandon.

She pumped and he kissed; he stroked and she whirled away on a
starburst of pleasure. Until a dazzling display of fireworks erupted from her
innermost core. Colours swirled and twirled and she danced in them until they
fizzled and died, and then she slumped in Ross’s arms, her face in his neck, as
she tried to suck in air.

Ross pulled his hand out from between her legs and held her
head against his neck, his hand sticky on her thigh.

‘Dear God...’ Ally murmured when she had enough air for
words.

‘That good, huh?’ Ross dropped a brief kiss on her temple.

Then she realised that he was still standing between her legs,
fully dressed and very hard. She rested her hands on his pecs, feeling the
thud-bump of his heartbeat under her hands.

‘You—are we?—can I—?’ Ally tripped and stumbled over her words,
inwardly cursing herself for being so inexperienced, so damn gauche. And for
letting things go this far.

The backs of her fingers brushed his erection and his penis
jumped in response.

Ross groaned, grabbed her hand, lifted it to his mouth and
kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘Not tonight, Ally.’

Ally stared at him, bemused. ‘Why not?’

His knuckles rubbed her cheekbone. ‘Because you still have that
what-the-hell-am-I-doing? look in your eyes. When we come together—and we
will
come together—you’re going to want this as much
as I do and you’ll have no regrets in the morning. Sorry about your panties.’
Ross leaned forward, kissed her cheek and tapped her nose. ‘Swing by with that
offer on Monday before you leave.’

Ally perched on the desk with her legs firmly closed, watched
him pick up the wallet and car key he’d left on the coffee table. It was only
after the door snicked closed behind him that his words actually made sense.

They still had business to do. She’d have to pretend that he
hadn’t
brought her to a stunning orgasm while
she presented Bellechier’s offer and—nearly as annoying—he’d destroyed one half
of an expensive lingerie set.

But, my oh my, it had been so worth it.

* * *

Three steps forward, thirty back, Ross thought as he
lifted his head up and saw Ally at his office door, a sheaf of papers in her
hand. Her hair was pulled off her face, curls tamed into a tight knot at the
back of her neck, and she wore a severe black skirt that ended just above her
knee and perfectly applied make-up on that face that said, ‘Let’s pretend that
you
didn’t
see me orgasm around your fingers.’

That cool, remote, can’t-mix-business-with-pleasure face.

They were two single healthy adults who were smart enough to
recognise the line between the two...well,
he
was at
least. He was beginning to realise that while Ally was a sharp operator in the
boardroom, she was less experienced in the bedroom.

Why? She was smart, gorgeous, had a body made for sex... She
should be a lot more at ease with the hot and heavy stuff than she had been on
Saturday night. And he knew that it had been a long while since she’d had an
orgasm like the one he’d given her.

‘Hi,’ Ally said, her hand on the frame of his door, her eyes
wary.

‘Hi, back. You’re later than I expected,’ he said, pushing back
his chair and standing up behind his desk.

‘Sorry. I thought that it was silly to come across town and
then go back to the hotel, so I’m heading straight for the airport when I leave
here.’ Ally waved her hand. ‘I have a taxi coming back for me in half an
hour.’

Pic, realising that his latest crush was back, let out a deep,
appreciative bark and lumbered to his feet, shoving his snout into Ally’s free
hand. Ally sent Ross a quick look, handed him the papers and bent over and
rubbed his dog’s head. Pic’s eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned with
pleasure.

Ross knew exactly how he felt.

He walked around his desk and sat on the corner, his legs
stretched out in front of him. He flicked the papers with his thumb. ‘So this is
the offer?’

Ally straightened. ‘Yep.’

‘Will I be happy with it?’ Ross asked.

‘Why don’t you take a look and see?’ Ally retorted, sitting on
the arm of one of his easy chairs and crossing her legs.

Ross couldn’t help looking at that slim thigh under the black
cotton and a picture of her legs falling open in front of him scorched his
retina. He heard her panting, remembered how she’d looked without the covering
of those silly panties...hot and wet and slick with pleasure.

He was instantly half hard, his dick protesting against his
zip. That line between business and pleasure could blur with one memory, he
realised with a shock. That hadn’t happened before.
Friggin’ hell.

He stared at the distorted words in front of him as he
attempted to get control of his raging hard-on, tried to keep from reaching for
her and slamming his mouth against hers and pushing his way home.
This is what happens when you spend your days imagining
taking her ten ways to Sunday
, he moaned to himself.

‘So, what do you think?’ Ally asked.

Ross looked at her, confused. ‘About what?’
Taking you right here? Sure, let’s go.

Ally gave him a what-the-hell? look. ‘The offer, Ross. Does it
work for you?’

Oh, the offer.
He was scrunching it
in his hand. ‘Let me read it again,’ he said.

Hell, he needed to read it for the first time. Pulling in a
deep breath, he skimmed through the Bellechier offer, didn’t quite believe what
he was reading and read it again.

‘Holy hell, Jones, this is unbelievable.’ They’d literally made
him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He wouldn’t need to do any extra fundraising
for the think tank for the next two years if he accepted their offer. He could
buy a lot more equipment than he’d originally wanted, and could finance the
research into so many more projects than he’d originally envisaged.

He just needed to give them his face and lend his name to their
campaign for a limited period. It was a no-brainer...

‘I could push them for more if you’re not happy,’ Ally said,
erroneously interpreting his silence as displeasure.

Ross considered her words for a minute. The businessman in him
was savvy. Her words suggested that they were prepared to go even higher. But
the moralist in him said that they’d already offered nearly seven times more
than he really wanted and he was grateful. He wouldn’t push his luck.

‘No, I’m good. This offer is fantastic.’

He saw the look of relief that flickered across Ally’s
face.

‘You thought I’d push you for more?’ he said, and caught her
nod.

‘Everyone does,’ she replied. ‘We pride ourselves on making
fair offers but people invariably want more. The negotiations become...’

She fell silent and Ross filled in the words for her, trying to
help her identify the emotion, the word she was looking for. ‘Annoying?
Disheartening? Tedious?’

‘Tedious.’ Ally picked up the word, tasted it and then nodded
her approval. ‘Celebrities are...greedy. I’m glad you’re not. If you sign both
copies you can keep the top one and I’ll take the other one back to Geneva.’

Ross stood up, reached for a black pen and placed the documents
on his desk, signing his name where she indicated. ‘What now?’ he asked, handing
her a copy.

‘We send you a proper contract, you get your lawyers to look it
over and you send it back to us. I get started on the fun stuff—designing the
campaign, which includes both commercials and print ads.’

Ally tucked the papers into the side pocket of her bag and
resumed her spot on the arm of the chair. Pic, the tart, placed his jowls on her
thigh and looked adoringly up at her as her fingers disappeared into his
coat.

Ally looked at her watch. ‘My taxi will be here soon. I need to
get going.’

He didn’t want her to leave—not just yet—so he held up his hand
to keep her in her seat. ‘I do have a few provisos with regard to the campaign,’
Ross stated, in his best non-negotiable tone of voice.

Ally tipped her head. ‘Okay...what are they?’

‘Everything I’m needed for has to be shot in Cape Town. I’ve
still got a business to run here.’

Ally didn’t reply at first, and he could almost see her gears
turning.

‘I’m sure we could make that work. It’s a stunning city.’

‘And I want
you
to oversee this
project. You are here for every minute the camera crew and the photographers are
here. If I’m involved then you’re involved. It’s your baby. You don’t hand it
off to one of your lackeys.’