The Courtship Maneuver, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (14 page)

C
hloe was pissed
. So was I, but that wasn’t her fault. Or Jack’s. The sight of them, Chloe looking beautiful and surprised, and Jack eyeing her with that hungry stare, was just too much. Especially after the pool hall and the bar. I didn’t think I could take watching any more men lusting after my woman. Maybe when we’d been together longer I’d find it funny, or entertaining. I wasn’t there yet.

Now that she was wearing her new clothes, every other man could see what I already knew. That she was luscious, all abundant curves, and smooth soft skin. Warm eyes and gorgeous hair. Sweet full lips and perfect legs. I wanted her to feel good about herself, to see the same beauty that I saw when she looked in the mirror. I hadn’t thought about everyone else seeing it, too.

I sat behind my desk and waited for Jack to take a seat across from me. He shrugged and met my eyes with a helpless grin.

“Sorry, man,” he said propping his ankle up on his knee. “I always liked Chloe, but I never realized she was so hot. I thought I’d better take a shot before someone else did.”

“I already got there,” I said, reigning in my temper with effort. Jack had worked for me for seven years. We were friends. He was a good guy. None of that stopped me from wanting to punch him for calling Chloe hot. Even though she was. Jealousy was a bitch.

“I see that,” Jack said, easily, raising his hands up in front of him in a gesture of innocence. “Won’t happen again.”

“Don’t say anything to anyone. Not yet.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, his eyes suddenly intent on me. “Is this just some secret office fling? Because that’s not why
I
asked her out.”

“No,” I said, with more force than necessary. “No. It’s serious. But she’s skittish about anyone at work knowing. She doesn’t want people to think less of her for getting involved with me. So don’t tell anyone until she figures out how she wants to handle it, okay?”

“No, that’s cool,” Jack said, relaxing into his chair. “No one would think less of her. She’s the only reason most of us can put up with you. But I can keep my mouth shut.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Now show me what’s changed in these contracts so I can have lunch with Chloe.”

He did, taking me through the adjustments with the focused efficiency I was used to in Jack. We were done twenty minutes later. I walked him out, stopping at the door to my office, glad to see a brown paper bag on Chloe’s desk, still stapled shut, beside two styrofoam cups. She couldn’t be that mad if she’d waited for me before eating lunch.

Jack gave Chloe a wink and a jaunty wave as he left the executive suite, but didn’t try to start a conversation. Smart man. Then again, if he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have hired him. His invitation to Chloe had my mind racing. Normally I was the last guy to rush toward commitment.

Who was I kidding? Normally I didn’t know the meaning of the word commitment, at least where women were concerned. Chloe wasn’t just any woman. She was the only woman for me. I’d have to move this forward, make a public statement she could live with, or I’d be chasing off every unattached guy in the company. And there were a lot of them.

Chloe stood as I neared her desk, picking up the paper bag and styrofoam cups. Without a word, she marched past me into my office, her back straight, chin high. Yep. I was in trouble. Damn.

I followed her back into the office, closing and locking the door behind us. She heard the lock flick into place and her head whipped around.

“Sam, unlock that door.”

“Not right now,” I said. “I want to eat lunch without anyone interrupting.”

“If anyone comes, they’ll think-”

I shook my head, cutting her off. “They won’t. You only think they will because you feel guilty. You have nothing to feel guilty about, honey. We’re both adults, both free to be together, and this is our lunch hour. Leave the door alone and eat.”

She sighed, and the stiffness went out of her spine. She started to sit on the chair opposite my desk, where she usually sat when we worked or ate lunch together, but I stopped her.

“Over here,” I said, grabbing the bag and going to the leather couch on the far side of my office. I rarely used the sitting area. Most of the time I was at my desk if I was in the office. Chloe and I had never eaten over there, even though it was more comfortable than the desk. It had never occurred to me, probably not to her either. But we’d been apart for the past few hours and I missed her. I didn’t want to sit across the desk, I wanted her beside me.

She sat down, smoothing her skirt over her legs and crossing her feet at the ankles, knees together. Now that I knew what it was like to have her in bed, her prim manner turned me on even more. Anyone looking at her would think she was too buttoned up to be the same woman who’d writhed beneath me, begging me to fuck her. And no one else would ever know. Chloe was mine. Forever.

I
smoothed
my skirt over my legs, a little nervous about being alone with Sam in his office with the door locked. It was silly. We ate in here all the time, though not on the couch. And we’d had the door closed and locked before when we’d worked on sensitive projects. It didn’t happen often, but it wasn’t completely unusual. I was just off balance and everything felt weird.

Sam sat down beside me and opened the bag with our lunch. His turkey sandwich and my tuna melt. Wordlessly, he slid his wrapped pickle my way. Sam didn’t like pickles. Whenever we got deli sandwiches for lunch, he always gave me his pickle.

At the way that sounded in my head I giggled.
Sam gave me his pickle
. He sure did. I giggled again. For a responsible adult, I could be so immature. Or maybe it was just the stress getting to me. Sam handed me my iced tea and gave me an odd look.

“Something funny?” he asked.

I shook my head, but kept giggling, unable to stop, the grave concern on his face setting me off even worse. I put the drink down on the coffee table before I spilled it and braced my forearms on my knees, dropping my head to hide my face. I was over the stupid pickle joke, but I kept giggling, my laughs abruptly changing to sobs as tears streamed down my face. What was wrong with me?

Sam put his food down and pulled me into his arms, tucking my hair behind my ear and kissing my forehead. “Shhh, honey. It’s okay. Shhh.”

I gasped for breath, fighting the sobs I couldn’t seem to control and said, “Sorry. Sorry, Sam. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I do, honey. You’re under a lot of stress and trying to pretend everything is okay. You’re scared for Nolan. It’s normal to be freaking out a little. It’s okay.”

“I’m not like this. I don’t cry all the time. I’m not like Melissa,” I said, talking about a woman in our Marketing department who was known for bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. I went out of my way to be nice to her, but sometimes I wanted to tell her to pull herself together. And here I was, bawling for what felt like the millionth time this week.

“Not the same, Clo. I’ve known you three years and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Not until this thing with Nolan. Don’t worry about it. You’re due.” He squeezed me against his chest and continued to rub my back, soothing me until I calmed down and my breath evened out.

I sat up and wiped my face, using the napkins on the table to clean away my smudged eyeliner. Our surreal breakfast with Sergey Tsepov was finally starting to sink in. I looked at Sam and said,

“Nolan isn’t going to be able to get clear of this, is he?” Sam hesitated, as if he was trying to decide how much of the truth to tell me. “Be honest,” I said. He shook his head.

“I can’t tell the future, Clo. Maybe if he squares up with Tsepov, he could let some time go by and then quietly leave town, start over somewhere else. But that depends on how much Tsepov wants to keep him.”

“Do you think Nolan betrayed Tsepov?” I asked.

“I have no idea. And neither do you. Even smart people do stupid shit sometimes. He could have. But there are enough people in this that he could also be a victim of someone else’s scheme. We just don’t know.”

I didn’t respond. I wanted so desperately to believe that Nolan wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal from Tsepov. But Sam was right. People did stupid things all the time. Look at the way I’d gone to that bar to find Sam and confront Dog. Anyone who knew me probably would have sworn I’d never do something that crazy.
I
would have sworn it if you’d asked me the day before. Yet, fueled by anger and frustration, I’d walked right in to the last place I should have been. Who knew what Nolan might have done with the right motivation?

“I just want to find him so this can be over,” I said, mostly to myself. Sam handed me my sandwich and said,

“So do I. Axel is working on it. Hopefully he’ll turn up something soon.”

I nodded and unwrapped my lunch. I’d lost my appetite after all the crying, but I ate it anyway, knowing I’d be hungry later if I didn’t. When we were finished, I went to pack up the trash, but Sam got to it first, shoving the sandwich wrappings in the bag and stacking the cups inside one another. For once, I ignored the pickles, opting for one of the red and pink mints at the bottom of the bag. I crunched it between my teeth, letting the sweet bite of mint wash the tuna out of my mouth. I loved tuna melts, but the aftertaste wasn’t the best.

“I’m not ready to get back to work, yet,” he said. I glanced at the clock across the room. One thirty. We were running behind and still had a lot to do before the end of the day. I started to protest when he took my hand and tugged, pulling me back onto the couch beside him.

“We should-”

“I know. We will.” His blue eyes roamed my face. “We won’t make a habit of this, I promise.”

I leaned into him, my lips meeting his half way. I agreed. We couldn’t make this a habit. But I was calling for an exception, just this one time. I needed Sam. And maybe he needed me, too.

Sam drew me into his arms, and I tried to get closer, but my tight skirt pinned my knees together, making movement awkward. Aggravated, and only wanting Sam, I stood up, looking down into his surprised eyes. “One second,” I said.

I wiggled my hips a little and began to hike up my skirt. Sam’s eyes widened comically, heat filling them as I bared the tops of my brown leather boots, then my thighs. The spike heels of the boots tilted my hips forward, making my legs and butt look perkier than usual. The boots were the only part of my outfit that was openly sexy. They lent me the boost of confidence I needed to give Sam a saucy smile and climb onto his lap, taking his face in my hands as I claimed his mouth with a kiss.

So far it had always been Sam initiating things between us. Now it was my turn. I wasn’t going to be the passive partner in this relationship. Sam may have had more experience, but I had enthusiasm. I had love. And plenty of pent up desire.

I threw myself into the kiss, sinking my fingers into the thick, blond silk of his hair, tugging gently to bring him even closer. His arms came around me, pulling me tight to his chest, one hand dropping to cup my ass and squeeze. Then both his hands were on my ass, dragging me tight against him, working their way beneath my skirt, which wasn’t hard since it was nearly at my waist.

When his fingertips slid beneath my lace panties to graze my heated pussy, I gasped into his mouth. I kissed him harder, the liquid pleasure between my legs making my head spin. He got me hot so fast, all it took was the smallest touches, and I was hungry for more. One long finger teased my entrance, sinking in just a bit before sliding out and tracing a circle, then dipping back in again. Teasing me. Making me moan with need.

Even my most heated fantasies of Sam hadn’t included having sex with him in his office. My imagination hadn’t dared to go that far. But there was one thing that had crept into my secret dreams. I’d always envisioned doing it at his desk, my body hidden beneath the bulky furniture while he lounged back in his chair and let me pleasure him.

The couch would do well enough. Peeking over my shoulder to reassure myself that the door was safely closed, though I already knew it was locked, I slid off Sam’s lap. He murmured a protest, but I ignored him. I stood before him in my proper suit, the power of his need flowing through me, making me brave. Taking a step back, I raised my hands and began to unbutton my jacket. Sam froze in the middle of reaching for me and slowly sat back. I bit my lip, looking down at his face, his blue eyes burning, the flush of passion on his cheekbones. He was mine. And I was going to show him how much I wanted him.

The last button of the jacket undone, I shrugged it off my shoulders and tossed it onto a nearby arm chair. I thought for a second, then dropped my hands to the back of my skirt and undid the single button at my waist. A tug on the zipper, a shimmy of my hips and the conservative tweed skirt fell to the floor. I stepped out of it and bent over, flashing Sam a view of my breasts through the gaping neckline of my blouse as I picked up the skirt and tossed it on top of the jacket.

Now I was standing in front of him wearing only the spike heel, knee-high boots, a thin blouse the color of bitter-sweet chocolate and matching lace underwear. I swayed my hips to music only I could hear and unbuttoned the blouse, taking my time with each button. Sam sat frozen on the couch, his eyes riveted to my hands, his cock rock hard and pressing against his charcoal gray suit pants. His breath came in short, quiet bursts, everything about him completely still. I imagined he was afraid any sudden moves might break the spell and scare me off.

That wasn’t going to happen. I was on a mission and Sam was my goal. Well, Sam and his cock. They were both all mine. I finally got the last button and peeled the blouse off, one shoulder at a time, letting it drop to catch on my elbows before I sent it flying to land with the rest of my clothes. My bra followed a second later. I was getting too impatient to tease. I hooked my thumbs in my panties, but lost my nerve. It was enough to be mostly naked, wearing only the knee-high boots and nearly transparent lace panties.

Dropping to my knees, I reached for Sam’s belt. He got there before me, spreading his knees and unfastening the belt and his pants. I rose up between his legs, hands trembling, eager to touch him. His cock pushed free of the smothering fabric as soon as his zipper was down, reaching for me, wanting my touch as much as I needed to give it.

I was clumsy. Sam didn’t seem to care. He sucked in a sharp breath when my mouth closed over the head of his cock. I licked up the bead of pre-come, savoring the salty taste of him. He was big, almost too much to fit. I breathed through my nose, relaxing my jaw and sinking down, taking him deeper, stroking his skin, loving the feel of it, satin over steel and so alive. For me. Just for me.

There was no way I could fit all of him in my mouth. Maybe with practice. Not my first time. Remembering a conversation with a girl-friend about oral sex that had left me blushing and sent my imagination running wild, I reached up to wrap my fingers around the length of Sam’s cock that I hadn’t managed to fit in my mouth. He was slick from my attentions, and my fingers slipped easily over him, my grip firm, matching the rhythm of my lips as they rose and fell.

His fingers sank into my hair, not guiding me, just along for the ride, his grip a possessive caress that sent my rising desire soaring. Groaning as I gave a hard suck, he shifted forward, spreading his legs wider, giving me more room. I rose higher on my knees, coming down from above, taking him an inch deeper.

“Oh, God. Chloe.” That was it. Just, “Chloe.” He said my name again, his hips shifting under my weight, pumping into my mouth in tiny pulses I knew he tried to hold back. The power of it was intoxicating. This strong man was losing control because of something I was doing. He needed me so much that he was almost helpless from my touch.

Almost, but not completely. With a harsh, pained groan, Sam tightened his fingers in my hair and pulled me away with a gentle, firm pressure. Uncertain, I let him, wondering if I’d been doing something wrong. The questions flew from my mind. He lifted me from the floor and tossed me to the couch on my back, flipping on top of me, settling himself between my legs. More than ready for him, I raised my knees back, opening to him, needing him to fill my pussy as he had my mouth.

He sat back just long enough to yank my panties down my legs. A breath later and he was pressing inside, careful to go slowly. I was wet and ready, but still too tight for him to take me the way I wanted him to. Short, maddening thrusts of him inside me, filling me inch by inch, the stretch a little pain, mostly pleasure. I squeezed my eyes tight, tipping my head back, my hips tilting up to his, taking him in.

“Sam,” I moaned into his ear, “Sam, harder. Please, harder.”

He gave me what I wanted as he filled me completely, pulling halfway out and driving back in, the jolt of pleasure startling a short scream from me. It was so good. Too good. I was going to come before we really got started. Sam must have felt me tighten around him, because he said in a guttural whisper, “That’s right, honey. Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel it.”

I did, my pussy clamping down as he fucked me, squeezing him in rhythmic clenches that stole my breath. Before my scream could escape my mouth and give us away, he kissed me, sealing his lips to mine, silencing my cries of pleasure.