LITMIR.BIZ

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frowned. “You look different.”

      “I’m the same old Jolie who’s been working with you for the past six years. How different could I look?” She leveled another forkful of food and raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to feed yourself or am I going to have to?”

      He opened his mouth and let her place the fork between his teeth. She always got his blood flowing and made him feel alive, even when he was half-dead with worry and lack of sleep. “How do you do that?”

      “Feed you?” She scooped up another forkful of food. “It’s easy, just like feeding a baby.”

      He grabbed her hand, spilling rice onto his lap.

      Her eyes widened, her green irises flashing a startling contrast to her pale skin.

      “No. I can feed myself.” He pulled her closer until her bottom came up off the table and she teetered forward. “How do you go from being my plain executive assistant to this?” He touched her hair, the soft waves curling around his finger. “Ah. It’s the hair.”

      She stared into his eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her breasts inching dangerously closer to his hand with each breath she took.

      If Devin was a gambling man, he’d bet she was as attracted to him as he was to her at that moment.

      Holy crap, why hadn’t he seen this before? Why had it taken him so long to really look at her?

      Jolie Carson had worked for him for six years and this was the first time he’d seen her with her hair down around her shoulders. It totally changed her appearance from the cool, efficient executive assistant, moving determinedly in the background of his life. She’d morphed from the one-person dynamo he relied on so much at work to a softer, more personable and more … hmm … vulnerable woman he’d swear he’d never met.

      And yet he had.

      She tugged against the hand holding her wrist, her gaze dropping to his lap. “I’m sorry. I seem to have spilled rice on you.” Her hand reached for the food, brushing against his crotch.

      The nearness to his arousal made him suck in a breath, his body on alert, his member jerking to attention.

      Jolie wrenched her hand back, her pale cheeks flaming. “I didn’t mean to touch you there … I mean, I’m sorry … well, hell. If I could be more of a clown, I’d be in a circus.” She laughed and backed away so quickly her legs bumped against the coffee table, throwing her off balance.

      Devin caught a flailing arm and yanked her forward, her teetering momentum sending her falling toward him, landing hard on his lap.

      She scrambled to get up, but Devin’s arm hooked around her waist, holding her still. “Relax. I won’t bite … unless you want me to.” He chuckled, his chest rubbing against her back. A citrusy scent wrapped around his senses. “You smell good.” He leaned into her, his nose tickled by the soft red curls. “Why is that?”

      “It’s my shampoo.” She wiggled against him, her bottom grinding into his rising arousal. “I’m fine, really. You can let me up.” She sat in his lap, her body rigid, her brows knitted. “Mr. Kendall. I believe you’ve gone from exhausted to delirious. Let me up.”

      “So it’s Mr. Kendall now, is it?” He knew he should let her go, but her body was so soft against his, all the curves, the scent. The way she moved made him relaxed and excited all at once. Most importantly, it made him forget his troubles if for only a moment.

      He could imagine how it would feel to have her long, naked legs wrapped around his middle as he drove into her. Heat filled his groin, pooling low and strong. He wanted her in a way that had nothing to do with PDAs or memos. The CEO in him shut down; the man roared to life.

      “Why did you come over tonight?” He leaned into her neck, the temptation to taste more than he could resist. He nibbled the tender skin just below her earlobe.

      Her back arched against him, her head dropping back until it rested against his shoulder. “I thought you might be hungry.”

      “I’m hungry, all right.” He nibbled again, nipping at the pulse pounding away at the base of her throat. “But not for food.”

      He turned her in his arms and cupped her cheeks with his palms. “Where have you been hiding?”

      She stared into his eyes, her green ones darkening. “I’ve been here all along.” Her gaze dropped to his lips and her tongue darted out, sliding across her own lips.

      Mesmerized by that little pink tongue, Devin couldn’t deny tasting it for himself. He pulled her close, capturing her mouth beneath his, his tongue sweeping over the line of her lips until they opened.

      He thrust in, conquering her mouth, slanting and sliding in and out, his movements feverish, agitated as if he couldn’t get close enough. The barrier of their clothing frustrated him.

      His hands found the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it to a far corner.

      The lacy white bra beneath held her firm breasts high, the rounded swells enticing him past redemption. He twisted, laying her out on the couch beneath him, his mouth traveling the length of her throat, down over her collarbone to the lovely breasts, rising and falling rapidly to the rhythm of her ragged breathing.

      “Devin,” she gasped as his mouth closed over a nipple trapped beneath the lace of her bra. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

      “I would think it obvious.”

      “You aren’t delirious from lack of sleep?” she asked.

      “I’m deliriously drunk from you.”

      “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

      “Never more certain.” He reached behind her, flicked the catch to her bra and slid the straps down over her shoulders, her breasts spilling free into his hands. They were pale like porcelain, tipped with strawberry-colored nipples, puckered into tight nubs, ready for plucking.

      His mouth descended on one lush, ripe tip, drawing it between his teeth where he rolled it gently, nipping and licking.

      A moan rose in her throat and her back arched off the couch, pressing her breast more firmly into his mouth.

      All the tension, the worry, the latent frustration bubbled up inside him, driving a sense of urgency to get naked with Jolie, to take her, to ram into her over and over again until his lust was slaked, his desires sated and his energy consumed.

      Pale, slim fingers reached out to flick open the buttons of his shirt, fumbling to push aside the fabric, exposing the skin beneath. He brushed her fingers aside and ripped the shirt off, buttons popping loose, pinging off the coffee table and wood flooring.

      Her laughter warmed the air, her smile lighting the room. “I could have unbuttoned that and saved you a tailoring bill.”

      “Damn the buttons,” he growled. He leaned on one arm, working the rivet on her short denim skirt. When he had no luck pushing it through the hole, he shoved the skirt up over her hips and ripped her panties down to her ankles.

      “Hey, big guy. You may have a tailor on retainer. I don’t.”

      “I’ll buy you new ones.” He jerked the fabric, the delicate lace ripping into shreds.

      JOLIE LAY AGAINST THE SOFT leather couch, her breathing coming in ragged gulps, her body on fire, her skin deliciously sensitized to the cool air and warm fingers splayed out over her belly.

      For six years she’d secretly imagined being naked with her boss. Fantasized about making love to him, his hands smoothing down over her body, his words of adoration and passion igniting her senses.

      The reality was so much different than the dream. So much more vibrant, raw and exciting. She pulled at the belt around his middle, slipped the button loose on his suit trousers and slid the zipper down.

      He sprang

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