LITMIR.BIZ

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emotions. She didn’t want to enjoy being with Sloan, and the fact that she did—although enjoy was way too mild a word for how she was feeling—was something she might not be ready to face. Being with him intimately hadn’t been dirty or sordid or even ordinary. And it wasn’t just the sex she’d enjoyed, it was the eating and talking and laughing....

      Ziara was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Sloan approaching until his warmth cradled her back. “What are you doing?” he asked, his hands resting on her hips. His moist lips nuzzled through her hair to the back of her neck.

      More than anything she wanted to melt into his warmth, to experience again the joy of being a part of him.

      “I—I’m cleaning up. What does it look like?”

      “What if I want some more?”

      Twisting in his grip, she tried to see his face. “Why didn’t you say something? You can have another plate.”

      He closed in, his hips tight against her backside, giving her an unmistakable impression of his hardness. “I didn’t mean more food.”

      Her breathing accelerated, currents of excitement jumping from his hands straight between her thighs. She wanted to stroke back and forth, letting every inch of her back discover every inch of his front. Then she’d turn and repeat the moves all over.

      He was an addiction. A tempting treat. She could discover every texture and taste of his body, branding him as hers with her scent and touch. As his hands traveled from her hips to her breasts, she wondered if she was losing her mind.

      At least she was enjoying the ride.

      He turned her to face him, claiming her mouth with his. Slowly unbuttoning and unzipping her capris, he allowed them to slide down to the floor around her feet, followed quickly by her panties.

      With a flex of his biceps, he lifted her onto the tile counter. A squeal rang out as her bare bottom met the chilled surface. He chuckled.

      “That’s sadistic,” she accused.

      He grinned, his dark gold hair falling softly from the crown of his head to frame his devilish good looks, reminding her of a Hollywood bad boy.

      “I’m all about the sensations,” he said.

      The grin quickly melted into a more serious look, making her feel like prey. Her heartbeat picked up again, and she tried to pull him to her, but he didn’t budge. Layers disappeared: her sweater and cotton T-shirt, followed by the tank she’d put on in lieu of a bra.

      He kissed her thoroughly, letting his hands trail down her arms, which he guided behind her and propped on the counter.

      When he released her mouth, she found herself leaning back on her braced arms, her body on display for him to peruse at his leisure. Instantly awkwardness swept in. How could she let him see every little part that she’d kept hidden for so long?

      When she tried to lift herself up, his hands on her shoulders held her still. After one dark look, his gaze moved down...along with his hands. She should have felt shamed, wanton in this position, especially when he pushed between her legs and propped her feet on his hips. There was absolutely nowhere to hide.

      She let her head fall back and her eyes close. Therein lay her only protection from his onslaught.

      Before he finally entered her, he had explored each and every part of her body with thorough intent, branding her with his touch.

      She didn’t recognize the moans and whimpers erupting from her mouth. She only knew if she didn’t have him, she couldn’t make it through the next few minutes. His body in hers was a momentary relief, but when he thrust deep, the fire returned ten times hotter. She exploded within minutes, Sloan following close behind.

      With their ragged breathing echoing off the tile, she didn’t even care about being put back together again.

      * * *

      Pulling himself out of Ziara’s bed at two-thirty the next morning wasn’t an easy or pleasant task for Sloan, but he forced himself to return to his own house. They needed to slow down—and certainly needed to downplay anything that smacked of a relationship, sexual or otherwise.

      He’d tossed aside Ziara’s concerns last night and he stood by his decision on both counts. But he knew no matter what he’d told her earlier, Vivian would kick her to the curb the minute she discovered they were sleeping together. She was only barely tolerating Ziara after learning about the lingerie line.

      So he’d stay in control. They’d be careful. He could have her and protect her—somehow.

      When he’d suspected a mystery lay beneath Ziara’s cool exterior, he hadn’t known the half of it. He felt like he’d cracked that hard surface and found the richest pool of tempting dark chocolate, so deep he could drown in her.

      Willingly.

      That was the scary part. Her loyalty, her integrity, her professionalism—all wrapped up in the sexiest package he’d ever touched. It made him want the very thing he was trying to hide: a chance just to be with her. He couldn’t articulate the why of it. It was just Ziara.

      Coming through the door to his office suite seven hours later, he barely controlled his double take. There sat Ziara, looking as calm, crisp and professional as she always did. He couldn’t reconcile it with the woman who’d wrapped her silky, toned legs around his waist while he gave her multiple orgasms the night before.

      Looking at her now, he wanted to kiss color into her lips and cheeks. Better yet, make her eyes glint with mischievous passion. But that was in direct violation of their agreement. He barely controlled the impulse to rip every last pin out of her hair until it fell in a black cascade down her back.

      Wouldn’t Vivian just love that?

      As if sensing a presence, she glanced up from her desk, eyebrow raised in inquiry. A tentative smile peeked from her lips—not her normal professional greeting, but a small, secretive smile full of the knowledge of what they’d done to each other the night before.

      He stalked to her desk and leaned forward onto his hands. “I want to tear your clothes off.”

      Her eyes widened a bit before returning to normal. Her lips pressed together as if to contain a laugh, though it didn’t disguise their sensual fullness. “Shh, not in the office. Besides, Abigail called to say Vivian wanted you on the design floor in twenty minutes. A reporter is coming to interview y’all.”

      He cursed under his breath. “Guess I’ll have to put my plans on hold until tonight then. The least you can do is come along and protect me from the big, bad dragon lady.”

      He paused, giving her a moment to back out. Her subdued “Sure” swept through him like a victory dance. He wouldn’t jeopardize her reputation here at work, but he had to have her again. Soon.

      * * *

      Fatigue hovered at the edges of Sloan’s consciousness a few hours later. The reporter had been excited about something new and different to feature in an upcoming society page, and had snapped at least a hundred pictures of the design floor.

      Ziara had tried a few times to head back up to the office, but Sloan or Patrick always distracted her before she could get away. Constantly conferring with her over details of the actual show and even some of the fabric choices had kept her in close range—exactly where Sloan wanted her.

      But she’d definitely started to lag at the end, her normally calm tone growing short and her posture tight. The most trying thing, the one thing that seemed to tap her energy while revving up Sloan’s, had been Vivian’s disapproving stare. Oh, she’d managed to keep it out of range of the camera, but Sloan could feel the bad vibes emanating from her on more than one occasion. At least she seemed to be an equal opportunity dispenser of disapproval. No one but the reporter and Robert could do any right this morning.

      Sloan just wanted to crawl back under the covers and sleep, right up against his naked assistant. Problem was, lunchtime

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