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234 pages, Paperback
First published August 6, 2015
Fraudulent financial statements. Submitting false IRS reports. And if she didn’t marry Lucas, he would ruin Jason.
“Have I mentioned how much I adore your mouth? I do. It was one of the first things I noticed about you. Your pretty, wide, sexy-as-hell mouth. I’ve lain awake nights wondering…how would your lips feel on my skin? How would they look stretching for me, taking me? How much could you take? I’ve had your kiss. I know what you taste like, and that’s only worsened the need. Made me crave more.”
“Is this your way of shutting me up, then? ... If I speak out of turn, will you put me in my place with humiliating, vulgar talk? Shame me into being quiet?”
“First, you can lie to yourself if it makes you feel better, but your body betrays you every time. You like my vulgar talk, sweetheart. Probably too much, which is why you’re trying to verbally castrate me now. Understand one thing, though. Yes, I can be ruthless, unforgiving, and a manipulative bastard. But I don’t play games with sex.”
And so the furious bidding began. Many paddle flicks later, bachelor number one went for seventy thousand dollars to a woman old enough to be his grandmother. For his sake, please let her have bought him for her granddaughter, or even her daughter. Otherwise… Sydney shuddered.
“Good morning,” Sydney greeted the receptionist stationed outside her father’s inner sanctum. The lovely brunette returned her smile with a cool, professional version. Hmm. Sydney studied the twenty-something who couldn’t have been much older than her. She’s new. Had her father slept with this one yet? Well, if they were lovers, she hoped the woman didn’t embrace illusions that Jason would leave his wife for her like the last assistant had.
With a bite of cynicism, he swept his gaze over the sensual swell of her hips. She probably detested their roundness, as most of the women he knew craved to own the body of a prepubescent child rather than a grown, real woman. His uncle, the man who’d raised him after his father’s death, had a saying: “Only dogs want bones. And they bury them.” He and Uncle Duncan had disagreed on many subjects, but this one thing—the beauty of a woman’s curves—wasn’t one of them.
He slowly tunneled his fingers under her bun, maybe giving her time to push him away or step out of his embrace. Her carefully styled hair started to loosen and unravel as his blunt nails grazed her scalp and he gently pulled her head back. This time, she couldn’t contain the moan. It slipped free of its own will.
“I love that sound coming from you. Is that what you were trying to hold back from me?” He smoothed another caress over the lip she’d closed her teeth over. “Why? When this”- he brushed a kiss over the corner of her mouth-“is the only honesty we have between us.”
He tugged her head back farther and covered her mouth with his. His hand returned to her chin, keeping her steady for the plunge of his tongue. While his grip might have been devastatingly tender and sensual, the kiss wasn’t. He didn’t cajole or tease playfully. He took, and God, she gave. Surrendered. Submitted.