Pulses of heat racing up and down my body. I was about to come. I was about to . . .
“Ahhh . . .” I groaned as the first spasm shook my body. My inner muscles rhythmically clenched around his invading digits as I shook and shivered through pure ecstasy. He stroked me deep and hard, the friction prolonging the pleasure, drawing it out until I was exhausted.
I felt my body slumping forward, strong hands catching me, scooping me up.
Then I was lying on my stomach, floating on a cloud of clean, white cotton. Tingling from head to toe, I turned my head to the side and watched Kameron kneel on the mattress beside me. The silk loosened, gliding off my wrists, across my back. Little aftershocks of pleasure shook me.
Warm, moist lips pressed against the inside of my right wrist.
“We need to get going,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”
And he was gone.
If I’d had any misconception about the purpose of our trip to New York, it was completely obliterated by that evening. This was, without any doubt, a working trip.
Riding in a slick, black BMW, we spent hours winding through congested New York City streets in between meetings. Kameron passed the time either working on his laptop or talking on the phone. When I wasn’t taking orders to make phone calls on my new company-owned cell phone or typing his dictation into his computer, I was staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by.
By ten p.m., I was exhausted, my eyes blurry. I had a slight headache, and I was ready to eat and crash onto any horizontal surface that was stationary.
In contrast, Kameron seemed to have an endless supply of energy as he continued pecking at his laptop while jabbering into the wireless headset connecting him to his business associates via his cell phone. I rummaged in my handbag and found a couple of aspirins and a bottle of water in the car’s minifridge. The water’s cap was screwed on very tight, but Kameron was kind enough to open it for me. I popped the bitter pills into my mouth, added a big swig of water, and swallowed. Relief was on its way.
A little while later, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. With every moment that passed, it became harder and harder. My eyelids were drooping.
Wouldn’t lift.
So heavy.
All of me felt heavy. Arms. Legs. Chest.
I felt myself falling, heard Kameron’s voice. It sounded so far away. Low and husky and sexy. I felt the vibration of the vehicle as it crawled through the streets. I heard the hum of the motor and the sounds of traffic and people, a world that didn’t stop.
Something was wrong.
No, maybe not.
Or possibly, yes.
I was hot. No, cold. Too hot and too cold. I turned my head, and the world swooped and spun. I laughed and let myself be carried away into a mist of swirling, warm bliss.
5
I was warm, lying on something that was soft and cozy. A leg brushed against mine, an arm flopped over my side.
A leg?
An arm?
What the hell?
I blinked open my eyes.
I was in the condo. In my room.
Okay. But . . . ?
I glared at the hand dangling from the arm that had decided it belonged draped over my body. It was a male hand. I had a pretty good notion who it belong to.
A leg swung across both of mine, pinning them to the mattress. I felt coarse hair scratching as it slowly dragged back again.
If I was feeling hair . . .
Moving carefully to avoid waking the man who had evidently invited himself into my bed, I wriggled to the opposite side of the bed. Then I lifted the sheets.
“Oh my God!” I blurted.
“What?” He was upright, hair mussed, eyes wild. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m naked.” Semi reclined, I gathered as much of the covers as I could and heaped them on top of myself.
“Of course you’re naked. Did you want me to put you to bed in your work clothes?”
He put me to bed? When?
What else did he do?
Why couldn’t I remember?
“Well, yes,” I said as I tried to slog through my hazy memories, to recall what
“Ahhh . . .” I groaned as the first spasm shook my body. My inner muscles rhythmically clenched around his invading digits as I shook and shivered through pure ecstasy. He stroked me deep and hard, the friction prolonging the pleasure, drawing it out until I was exhausted.
I felt my body slumping forward, strong hands catching me, scooping me up.
Then I was lying on my stomach, floating on a cloud of clean, white cotton. Tingling from head to toe, I turned my head to the side and watched Kameron kneel on the mattress beside me. The silk loosened, gliding off my wrists, across my back. Little aftershocks of pleasure shook me.
Warm, moist lips pressed against the inside of my right wrist.
“We need to get going,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”
And he was gone.
If I’d had any misconception about the purpose of our trip to New York, it was completely obliterated by that evening. This was, without any doubt, a working trip.
Riding in a slick, black BMW, we spent hours winding through congested New York City streets in between meetings. Kameron passed the time either working on his laptop or talking on the phone. When I wasn’t taking orders to make phone calls on my new company-owned cell phone or typing his dictation into his computer, I was staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by.
By ten p.m., I was exhausted, my eyes blurry. I had a slight headache, and I was ready to eat and crash onto any horizontal surface that was stationary.
In contrast, Kameron seemed to have an endless supply of energy as he continued pecking at his laptop while jabbering into the wireless headset connecting him to his business associates via his cell phone. I rummaged in my handbag and found a couple of aspirins and a bottle of water in the car’s minifridge. The water’s cap was screwed on very tight, but Kameron was kind enough to open it for me. I popped the bitter pills into my mouth, added a big swig of water, and swallowed. Relief was on its way.
A little while later, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. With every moment that passed, it became harder and harder. My eyelids were drooping.
Wouldn’t lift.
So heavy.
All of me felt heavy. Arms. Legs. Chest.
I felt myself falling, heard Kameron’s voice. It sounded so far away. Low and husky and sexy. I felt the vibration of the vehicle as it crawled through the streets. I heard the hum of the motor and the sounds of traffic and people, a world that didn’t stop.
Something was wrong.
No, maybe not.
Or possibly, yes.
I was hot. No, cold. Too hot and too cold. I turned my head, and the world swooped and spun. I laughed and let myself be carried away into a mist of swirling, warm bliss.
5
I was warm, lying on something that was soft and cozy. A leg brushed against mine, an arm flopped over my side.
A leg?
An arm?
What the hell?
I blinked open my eyes.
I was in the condo. In my room.
Okay. But . . . ?
I glared at the hand dangling from the arm that had decided it belonged draped over my body. It was a male hand. I had a pretty good notion who it belong to.
A leg swung across both of mine, pinning them to the mattress. I felt coarse hair scratching as it slowly dragged back again.
If I was feeling hair . . .
Moving carefully to avoid waking the man who had evidently invited himself into my bed, I wriggled to the opposite side of the bed. Then I lifted the sheets.
“Oh my God!” I blurted.
“What?” He was upright, hair mussed, eyes wild. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m naked.” Semi reclined, I gathered as much of the covers as I could and heaped them on top of myself.
“Of course you’re naked. Did you want me to put you to bed in your work clothes?”
He put me to bed? When?
What else did he do?
Why couldn’t I remember?
“Well, yes,” I said as I tried to slog through my hazy memories, to recall what
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