The Billion Dollar Pact: Waking Up with the Boss (Billionaire Brothers Club) / Single Mom, Billionaire Boss / Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      He removed the garment and draped it around her shoulders.

      Then he unpacked the food and made up a plate for her. “This looks good, doesn’t it?”

      “Yes, it does.” She balanced the china on her lap, feeling warm and cozy with his jacket against her body.

      Jake filled his plate, too, and they nibbled on an assortment of fancy appetizers and decadent desserts.

      “It’s a yummy combination,” she said.

      He met her gaze. “And we couldn’t ask for a nicer setting, surrounded by the moon and the stars. You sure look pretty out here. But you’ve looked pretty all night.”

      “Even when I was a nervous wreck in the cage?”

      “Yes, even then. I shouldn’t have suggested that we dance in there.”

      “It’s okay. You didn’t know how it would turn out.” She polished off her champagne. She had no intention of getting drunk, but a little buzz wouldn’t hurt, especially with the way Jake was staring at her. She was curious to know more about him. Things she shouldn’t want to know. Things she shouldn’t ask. But she questioned him, anyway. “Do you do that type of stuff?”

      He put his plate aside. “What stuff?”

      “Like what was in the video.” She refilled her glass, waiting to see what he would say. She’d heard that he was wild in bed, but no one had ever said just how wild. Not even the starlet who’d blogged about him had included those types of details.

      “Bondage? No, I’m not into that.” Without taking his eyes off her, he added, “Why...are you a secret dominatrix or something?”

      If she wasn’t so enraptured with him, she would have laughed. “Are you kidding? Me being a secret anything is preposterous. I just like regular sex.”

      “Truthfully, I was kidding. But I like it regular, too. Only, I think they call it vanilla in that lifestyle.” He gestured to the vanilla-scented candle. “Like that.”

      Had she actually started this conversation? She put down her champagne and reached for a scone that was glazed with white icing. “This is vanilla.”

      Jake shifted on the towel, moving a little closer to her. “I don’t think I got one of those.”

      “I can share it with you.” She held it out to him, caught in a trap of her own making.

      He took it from her, his fingertips touching hers, creating a soft stream of electricity between them.

      While he bit into the pastry, she watched him, anxious to have it back, to put her mouth where his had been.

      “It’s good,” he said.

      Too good, she thought when her turn came. They continued to pass it back and forth. Carol couldn’t deny that it felt like foreplay.

      “What are we doing?” he asked when she finished the last bite.

      “Something we shouldn’t be doing,” she replied. But it felt too incredible to stop.

      As he leaned in to kiss her, she was thrilled, hungry for the taste of him. Their mouths came together in a burst of passion, their tongues meeting and mating.

      When they stopped to catch their breaths, the candle flickered, its vanilla scent swirling around them. He took her plate off her lap, put it next to his and then moved in for the kill, nudging her down.

      Again, she was too enthralled to stop him. She wanted him as close to her as possible.

      He laid down on top of her, and they kissed like forbidden fiends, the sound of the ocean roaring in the distance. Carol’s dress fanned out beneath her, the body veil twisting up with the towel. Jake’s jacket was beneath her, too, where it had fallen off her shoulders.

      He tasted like the pastry they’d shared. She probably tasted that way to him, too—sweet, sugary, filled with warmth and flavor.

      She loved the weight of his body against hers, the hardness pressing down on her. Needing more, she wrapped her arms around him, trailing her hands along his spine, feeling the fabric of his shirt.

      “I have fantasies about you clawing my back,” he said. “I’ve imagined all sorts of erotic things. Even biting you.” He nibbled at her ear, tugging on her lobe with his teeth. “I shouldn’t want you like this, but I do.”

      “I shouldn’t want you, either.” She knew better. She was his employee. His assistant. The woman who was supposed to be so proper and composed.

      His breath rushed out. “I’m so turned on right now.”

      “So am I.” She could barely think straight.

      Jake kissed her again, all rough and sexy and dark, his lips ravishing hers. Then he lifted his head and stared at her. Carol stared at him, too, her heart threatening to jump out of her skin.

      Neither of them moved. If they kept going, they would end up naked in the sand, tearing each other apart.

      Hot vanilla sex.

      She wanted to be with him, but she couldn’t let it continue, not like this. She needed to catch her breath, to clear her mind, to behave like the rational person she was.

      “We need to stop,” she said. Beneath her dress, her nipples were tingling, and her panties were sticking to her skin.

      He sat up, his voice raspy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

      “It wasn’t your fault.” Carol sat forward as well, and grabbed his jacket from where it had fallen. She put it on, needing to cover up. “We both got carried away.”

      He frowned in the candlelight. “We should go.”

      She cuffed the too-long sleeves, trying to make the jacket fit her a little better. “Go where?”

      “Back to our rooms. To call it a night.” His frown deepened. “Unless you want to return to the party.”

      She cleared her plate and wrapped the uneaten food. “Goodness, no. I’d rather try to get some sleep.”

      “Yeah, it’s probably getting late, anyway.” Jake dumped out the rest of the champagne and put the empty bottle back in the basket.

      Together, they cleared the evidence of their picnic, but the memory of their kisses remained, warm and wild on her lips.

      He squelched the flame on the candle, pressing it between his thumb and forefinger. A moment later, he tucked the Victorian poets next to the empty bottle.

      They trailed across the sand, heading for the mansion.

      Once they reached the main entrance, they put on their shoes and made their way to the second floor.

      As they stood in the hallway outside their rooms, she said, “We’re here.” It was better than saying nothing.

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