Sleeping With the Boss Read online

  Claire leaned back in her chair, excited that he was warming up to talking about himself and his family. The candle had burned lower and the wavering light dancing across his skin made her want to run her hands all over him—well, even more than usual.

  Nancy came in and cleared the plates while he continued. “Chance and I never really hung out because he was in high school when Michael and I were away at college. He made a couple of really close friends he still runs with today.” A wistful, faraway look crossed his features in the flickering light. “They were real practical jokers, but nobody ever got arrested, so there’s that. He got deep into martial arts about the time I thought he’d spin off. I think that made a difference.” His expression darkened, but he didn’t continue.

  “What?”

  He met her eyes. “Nothing. I just… One of them, Phoebe, is getting married soon. I wonder how that’s going to affect him. The three of them have been joined at the hip forever. I’d always expected…” He left the thought unfinished and shrugged. “So that’s it for my family.”

  “So, where are your parents?”

  He smiled. “They are wherever in the world the mood strikes them to go. Dad loves it, but Mom would much rather be home.” He met her eyes. “World travel and freedom from obligation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Boom! Subtle like a sledgehammer. Claire sipped her wine, wondering if he meant it as a hint, or if she was reading too much into it. Apartment door make-out session aside, this was only their first date, and, dammit, no matter how much she liked Will Anderson’s hot, minty deliciousness, she was determined to stick to her plan. She’d given up her dreams too many times for other people to consider hanging around longer to see where this went. “Neither is being caged.”

  One dark eyebrow arched. “Point well-made.”

  Nancy delivered chocolate mousse, Claire’s favorite, and replaced their wineglasses with champagne. “There is also coffee at the bar. Will there be anything else?”

  Will took the woman’s hand and gave it a pat. “We’re good. It was great to see you. Tell your family hi for me.”

  She stared at him a while, hand still in his. “I read about… I’m sorry you… Well, you’re better off without her.” She blinked rapidly, then took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re home, Willy. And I’m glad to see you out again.”

  Claire noticed him stiffen, but his words were level and warm. “Me, too. Thanks for being here tonight.”

  She nodded and scurried out. Claire suspected some tears followed her exit.

  “Better off without whom?” She knew this had to do with the broken engagement Heather mentioned. Bringing it up might have been poking a hornet’s nest, and she knew it, but she also wanted to understand him. He fascinated her—everything about him, even this sadness he let slip sometimes.

  “I made a mistake and trusted the wrong person. It’s over. Moving on.” He picked up his spoon, gave her a smile, and dug into his mousse.

  Okay then. She didn’t get stung by hornets. She did, however, feel like she’d been zapped with a little current when he closed his eyes and made a yummy sound as he enjoyed the mousse.

  “Well, that’s an endorsement I can’t resist,” she said picking up her spoon. Oh, yeah. The yummy sound was definitely justified. The mousse was amazing. Fluffy, light, and rich. As he had done, she closed her eyes and enjoyed her heaven on a spoon. The only thing missing was a chorus of angels. When she opened her eyes, she found him leaning closer. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable. His smoldering gaze dropped to her lips and he smiled. It was a cat-that-got-the-canary smile, and it made her squirm.

  …

  Everything about this woman appealed and Will intended to maximize their time together and not waste any of it. Starting now. He set his spoon down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So, Miss Maddox, I have proposition for you.”

  “If it involves jumping you, I try to never do that on the first date.” She grinned at him and took another bite of her mousse.

  “How about on the second date?”

  “All terms are negotiable, Mr. Anderson.”

  The business analogy made him chuckle. What a fucking bitch fate was. Here was a funny, smart, gorgeous woman who was as receptive as he was eager, and she was leaving in two weeks. It was for the best, though. How tangled up could he get in two weeks? Not enough to do any real damage, for sure. But they certainly could have some fun.

  He rose from the table and paced the length of the cabin with his hands clasped behind his back as if being completely serious. “Here’s my business proposal…well, it’s more of a pleasure proposal really.”

  She giggled and he tried to channel his inner Michael and not laugh along with her.

  Keeping his best boardroom exec face, he continued, “I would like a two-week exclusive arrangement with you, during which we explore the limits of how much fun two people can have in that amount of time. I think we both need and deserve it. I propose we call it the Claire Project. What do you think, Miss Maddox?” He stopped pacing and faced her with what he hoped was a businesslike expression.

  Her grin broadened and she set her spoon aside. “I’ll have my people send the paperwork over.”

  “I’m so glad we are in accord. No paperwork necessary, Miss Maddox. Let’s consider it a binding oral agreement.” He helped her up from her chair and pulled her against him, loving the way her curves fit against him perfectly. Then he lowered his head, and she met him in a kiss that tasted of chocolate and desire. Clever, hot, responsive. Everything he wanted…and he wanted her badly. It was all he could do to not lift up her skirt and…

  She broke the kiss. “The boat is moving again,” she said, voice husky and sexy as hell.

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  A knock came on the cabin door and Claire pulled away like a teenager caught mid-make-out by her parents. Nancy entered with an empty rolling cart. “We’re on our way back to the harbor, Mr. Anderson.” With the speed of a snail, she began clearing the dishes to the cart. “Do you need anything else?”

  Yeah. He needed her to clear the table some other time. He sighed, knowing it would hurt her feelings to send her away. He took Claire’s hands and twined his fingers through hers. “No. I have everything I need right now, thank you.”

  After what felt like an eternity, and a bear hug for both of them from Nancy, they found themselves alone again.

  “Do you dance?” he asked.

  “Not really, but I can fake it.”

  “I can’t imagine you faking anything.” He pushed play on the sound system and smooth, jazzy music filled the room. He slid his arms around her and swayed to the music. She looped her arms around his neck and relaxed in his embrace, making him heat up until he thought he might go up in flames. He ran a hand up her back and down again, pressing her closer. “I want you, Claire.”

  Her response was to push harder against him. He made a low, growling sound and ran his hands over her ass, pressing her to him so that there was no doubt about how turned on he was.

  With a soft moan, she slid her hands around his waistline and unbuttoned his jeans, and then ran her fingers just inside the waistband of his boxer briefs. He no longer swayed, but his chest heaved in time to the song.

  “Claire.” It almost sounded like a plea. Hell, it was a plea.

  She met his eyes and slid his zipper down.

  He closed his eyes and took several anticipatory breaths as she slipped her hands inside his pants.

  “Mr. Anderson?” A knock on the door followed.

  She froze and Will cursed.

  “I hate to interrupt you, but we’ve arrived back at the harbor,” T.J. called from outside.

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “And both of your brothers have called me…more than once. Michael says it’s urgent he speak with you. He’s holding the line on my phone now.”

  “Fuck,” Will gritted out under his breath.

  Claire slid her hands out of his
pants and he caught her fingers, pulled them to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “We’re not done here,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

  She grinned and her face flushed red.

  He adjusted himself and zipped his jeans. “Tell him I’ll call him when I get back to the office. The world won’t stop spinning before then. And tell him if he’d text, none of this would be necessary and I wouldn’t have to kick his ass when he comes home.”

  “I’ll leave the world spinning, texting, and ass-kicking out of it, but I’ll pass that on. Your car is waiting.”

  “Thanks, T.J.” He couldn’t believe that Michael had blown what promised to be the best hand job in history. He was lucky he was in another country where Will couldn’t get to him in person.

  Claire picked her purse up from the table by the door, face still passion-flushed and lips swollen from their kisses.

  “This meeting is not adjourned, Miss Maddox,” he said. “We simply need to relocate the negotiations to a more favorable venue.”

  “You’re the boss,” she said with a grin.

  Chapter Eight

  Anticipation made Claire dizzy as they walked hand in hand down the pier to the waiting limo. Jacob opened the door and they tumbled inside laughing like drunk teenagers.

  She stopped giggling when he slid from the facing seat and stalked on his hands and knees like a panther toward where she sat in the opposite corner. There was just enough illumination from the running lights to see his pupils dilate with desire as he got closer.

  He slipped into the seat beside her. “There is a strict protocol on how we’ll open every business meeting for the Claire Project.”

  Her breath caught when he gently slid her glasses off and set them in on a console behind them. “You appear to have everything planned out, Mr. Anderson.”

  “I’m excellent at planning—one of the best. And I would like to point out that our mobile boardroom is completely private. Jacob can neither see nor hear us.” He poured champagne for both of them. “Every negotiation should be launched with a heavy make-out session in the back of the company limousine. Don’t you agree?” He held up his glass and clinked it against hers.

  “Well.” She tilted her head and pretended to consider his question seriously. “It would depend who was on the project team, because if you’re talking about that big guy from accounting who wears the bow ties, that’s a deal-killer for me.”

  “For me, too. He’s not my type.”

  Giggling, and feeling as bubbly as the champagne, she leaned so close their noses bumped. “I believe we should read back the minutes from our meeting so far.”

  With a grin, he put both of their glasses in the cup holders in his door. “You have the floor, Miss Maddox.”

  “It began something like this,” she said against his lips.

  The moment their lips met, Claire knew this was different from what they’d shared at her apartment. No gentle, skilled parry this time. His embrace was hungry and hard. More animal than refined Anderson brother, Will slid off the seat and faced her, then pushed her back against the leather and gripped the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head to gain deeper access to her mouth.

  And she loved it—everything about it. Maybe it was because she’d been alone for so long, or maybe it was because this man was built like a god, but she felt like her blood was supercharged as she surrendered to his touch.

  A primal growl came from deep in his throat as he pushed her knees apart and pressed his body against hers, pinning her against the seat. But still, she needed more. To be closer. To touch his skin. “I’m alone, too,” he’d said in the hallway outside her apartment, and perhaps it was that loneliness each exuded that caused this attraction—something they had in common. She ripped his shirttail out from his pants and ran her hands up his spine, reveling in the defined muscles and smooth, warm skin of his back as his tongue moved against hers. She scraped her nails over his shoulder blades to his ribs, and he thrust against her with a groan. “My God, Claire.”

  Still pinned to the plush leather seat by his body, she stared into his clear blue eyes, gasping for breath. Never had she been so on fire for a man. Her entire body burned for him. It was as if he’d awakened every cell inside her with some elemental force, and she would die if he stopped. But it was more than physical. She felt connected to him somehow—the proverbial kindred spirits crap she’d read about so many times, but it wasn’t crap. It was real and tangible and necessary.

  He covered her mouth with his again, and she ran her hands down over his backside and grabbed him. Hard muscle flexed under her fingers, and a warm thrill pooled low in her belly.

  He pulled back from the kiss, erection still pushed against her, and ran his thumbs over her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt and lacy bra once, then studied her face as if gauging her reaction. She sucked in a quick, silent breath and let her head fall back against the seat, hands still gripping the hard muscle through the back of his jeans.

  “More?” he asked, hands bracketing her on either side of her head.

  If he stopped now, she might scream. “Yes.” Her voice was so raspy she didn’t recognize it.

  “I need to touch you, Claire.” His eyes never left hers. “So much it scares me.”

  “God, yes. Do it.” There was nothing she wanted more than his hands on her skin.

  “You look like a present,” he whispered in her ear, still kneeling on the floor in front of her. “I’ve wanted to untie this bow all night.” He pulled the tie loose and parted the front of her blouse. The cool air swirled over her breasts and belly, while heat burned lower where he pushed against her still. “So beautiful,” he whispered, releasing the clasp on the front of her bra, baring her breasts completely.

  And for the first time in a long time, she felt beautiful. And desired. And powerful. And completely free. She reached between them and unbuttoned his untucked shirt. Then, as he’d done with her blouse, she pulled the halves of his shirt open, baring his chest. He was absolutely perfect. The appreciative moan from her throat at the sight of his broad, muscular body was involuntary, as was his answering growl when she skimmed her hands over his skin.

  “That feels so good,” he said as she ran her fingers across his collarbone, then down over his defined chest muscles. Just as he’d done, she flicked his nipples once and waited. Almost immediately, his body reacted with a thrust. Sex with this man would be mind-blowing. Hell, dry humping in the limo with him was mind-blowing.

  She needed skin-to-skin contact. He must have been thinking the same thing, because he took her face in his hands, slanted his mouth over hers, and pressed against her so completely, their bodies touched from chest to thigh, the warmth of his bare skin searing her own.

  Something in her warned she was in way over her head. But once, just once, it felt amazing to let go, regardless of the potential fallout. There was something here. Something worth risking it for, even if only for two weeks.

  The minty taste of him, mixed with champagne, filled her senses as his big body continued its rhythmic pressure against her. The need had built to the point she whimpered.

  “I know. Me too,” he rasped, nipping her earlobe.

  Gasping for breath, she raked her nails over his scalp, and he groaned. He ran his tongue over her neck and his hands cupped her breasts. Her nipples were so hard, it was almost painful, and when he circled them with his thumbs, she exhaled through her teeth with a hiss. Shocks of pleasure bolted from where his thumbs stroked her to where their bodies pressed together lower.

  Cool air rushed over her as he pulled away, hands still caressing her breasts. And then, right when she thought she might gain her sanity again, he leaned down and flicked a nipple with his tongue. She shuddered, glad she was seated. Amazed, she watched as he flicked the other one, then planted his mouth over her breast in a hot, sensual kiss, hands wrapped around her rib cage holding her immobile.

  Ordinarily, being pinned like this would be unpleasant or ma
ybe even scary, but for some reason, with Will, it was liberating. She didn’t have to do anything. She could simply revel in the sensations caused by his hot mouth and powerful body and give herself over to the pleasure of his touch. And the pleasure was considerable.

  He moved his attention to her other breast as she watched transfixed.

  “Never have I wanted anyone like I want you. Never.”

  Ditto, she agreed in her head, but was too caught up to even manage that one word.

  He ran his tongue in a circle around her nipple, but not over it, which made her light-headed and one shade short of insane. Then his hands trailed down her sides and over her thighs, and back up again before he took that breast in his mouth as he had her other. She cried out with pleasure as he barely scraped his teeth across her erect nipple. Too much. Almost too much, yet not enough. His hands skimmed across her belly on their path down her body, then under her skirt and up her thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake. When his fingertips ran under her panties and lightly sifted through her curls, her lower body tightened with a jerk. “Easy,” he said, pulling away from her breast to look up at her.

  It had been a long time since she’d been touched by a man like this. Honestly, she’d never been touched like this—as if her pleasure was the most important item on the agenda.

  “Do you want me to stop, Claire?” he whispered against her ear, hand still between her legs. “Because I will if I’m out of line or pushing too hard.”

  She tried to answer, but she was too lust-dazed to form words. The best she could manage was a shake of the head.

  “Thank God, because I really want to feel you come.”

  Oh, magic words. It had been ages.

  She whimpered when he pushed the lace aside and his fingers explored her folds, sending electric bolts through her body. “I can’t even tell you what being near you and touching you does for me,” he said.

  She couldn’t tell him what it did for her, either, because she couldn’t talk; she could only feel, as her body hummed and heated with need from his touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he slipped a finger inside her. His mouth covered hers, cutting her cry short. Then he began moving his finger in and out in a rhythm that matched the thrust of his body against hers and the strokes of his tongue in her mouth.