The Elliotts: Mixing Business with Pleasure. Brenda Jackson

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      “Never? You never had a rebellious moment as a teenager or as a college kid?”

      “Okay,” he relented. “So there was a week or two when I seriously considered becoming a fly fisherman’s guide in Montana.”

      She laughed. “I’m trying to picture you in rubber waders instead of a Brooks Brothers suit.”

      He moved his hand to her mouth and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Are you mocking me again? There was also that summer in high school when I was determined to play in a garage band.”

      Surprise raced through her. “Oh, I never knew. You never mentioned that before when we—” She broke off. “When we were involved. There’s still a lot I don’t know about you.”

      “You don’t sound happy about that,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

      She wasn’t, and the knowledge irritated her. “Not much I can do about it, is there?”

      “You can do more than you think you can,” he said and leaned back to toss back the rest of his champagne.

      What an obscure comment, she thought, watching the muscles of his throat as he swallowed. She remembered kissing him there on his throat and hearing him groan in pleasure. The sounds he’d made when they’d made love had made her crazy to please him.

      He tilted the bottle of champagne and filled his glass and topped off hers again. “Almost done.” Meeting her gaze, he leaned closer. Then closer. So close her vision blurred.

      “I’m going to kiss you.”

      “I didn’t beg,” she said in the only protest she could muster. She hadn’t begged. Not aloud anyway.

      “We’re not in my apartment,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

      All the breath left her lungs. He moved his mouth over hers, caressing, exploring. His tongue slipped over her lips and she instinctively opened, letting him in.

      He made a ghost of a groan that melted her thighs and turned her to liquid. He pulled back slightly. “Take a drink of champagne,” he told her. “I want to taste it on your mouth.”

      Oooooh, wow. With a not-so-steady hand she lifted the flute and took a sip.

      He slid his hand underneath her jaw and lowered his mouth again, slipping his tongue over her mouth and then over her tongue.

      The kiss went on and on and she felt as if she’d been injected with a drug that made her move in slow motion. Nothing moved quickly except her heart. She felt the flute lifted from her hand.

      The kiss turned deeper and Gannon pulled her from her chair onto his lap. A sliver of caution dented the thick aura of desire infusing her brain. “Is this a good idea?” she managed.

      “We’re just kissing,” he said.

      But her body wanted more, she thought. A lot more. He slid his hand around the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth.

      Almost of their own accord her hands went to his hair. His groan of pleasure rewarded her and she felt his hands on the sides of her breasts. Her nipples immediately peaked against her bra. One, two, three seconds passed and he touched her nipples.

      The sensation sent a ricochet of tension down between her legs, where she felt wet and swollen.

      “Do you want more?” he whispered.

      The forbidden offer tantalized her unbearably. “How can I possibly think straight with the way you’re touching me?”

      “Is that good or bad?”

      “Both,” she muttered, biting her lip as he continued to rub his thumbs over her tender nipples.

      “Tell me you want me to stop,” he said, stopping the sensual movement.

      So she was going to have to be a big girl after all. Responsible. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel him, every way, everywhere. She closed her eyes. “I can’t say that I want you to stop,” she admitted in a low voice.

      He tugged her mouth back to his and took a long draw from her lips as if she were a drink he couldn’t get enough of. At what felt like the speed of light he unbuttoned her blouse and unfastened her bra. With restless fingers she unfastened his shirt and pushed it down his arms, but he wore a T-shirt underneath.

      Frustration bubbled from her throat. “Not fair,” she said.

      He quickly obliged her by removing his undershirt. She slid her fingers over his pecs and down his torso, thrilled by his quick intake of breath when her fingers dipped to his waistband.

      He buried his face in her breasts, sliding one of her nipples into his mouth. The way he tugged on her nipple sent her temperature soaring and tightened the empty ache inside her. She shifted restlessly on his lap, sliding against his hard arousal.

      He gave a groan that mixed frustration and pleasure. “You get me so—” He broke off and stood her between his legs, pulling down her stockings and the skirt she wore. She’d ditched her boots late afternoon in the middle of their intense work session.

      His gaze dark with the same need she felt, he pulled a condom from his pocket, unfastened his belt and shoved down his slacks and briefs. Sinking down onto the chair, he pulled her onto his lap.

      He kissed her while his fingers searched and found her sweet spot. “Wet and good,” he murmured in approval. His tongue stroked hers while his fingers caressed her intimately.

      Erika got so hot she could barely breathe. Anticipation warred with anxiousness. “I want you inside me,” she whispered to him. Then more to herself, “This is insane,” she said, overwhelmed by the need to be with him, by the need to be as close to him as humanly possible.

      Gannon lifted her hips over him and she slid down his shaft, taking him inside her. The way he filled her took her breath away.

      He shuddered. “You have no idea how good …”

      She lifted her hips and slid down him again, the friction stimulating all her most intimate nerve endings. “Oh, I think I have an idea.”

      And the rhythm began. He thrust upward when she rippled down over him. He drew her breasts to his mouth, sucking her nipple while he thrust inside her. The dual sensations made her crazy.

      He slid his hand between them and stroked her sweet spot, and Erika felt an explosion of pleasure kicking through her blood like a current coming in fits and starts. He continued to move and she felt herself clench in a mind-blowing climax.

      She heard him mutter something that was either an oath or a prayer. Or both. And he rocked his hips upward, thrusting, his body arched in release.

      Squeezing her bottom, he swore under his breath. “Oh damn, that was amazing.” He met her gaze with eyes dark with arousal and fulfillment. “You’re incredible. Just—”

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