Under normal circumstances, Ben would pass on the challenge and focus his energy on a woman who actually wanted to be around him, but there was nothing normal about this situation. Or about Maggie.
Since he’d met her, he’d barely thought about the recent scandal hanging over his head, or the fact that reporters were camped outside his home. Because of Maggie, he’d managed to think about something other than his own troubles, and he wanted to hang on to that liberating feeling for a while longer. Like he’d told his agent, he would lay low, and truth be told, he couldn’t think of anyone else he wanted to lay low with than this sassy redhead, no matter how annoying she found him.
“You should take a break,” he spoke before he could stop himself, hoping Maggie wouldn’t reprimand him for breaking his oath of silence.
“I just have to write up my conclusion,” she said absently without turning around. She rapped a few keys with her fingers. “Give me a sec.”
He tried to tell himself he wasn’t thinking of his own needs as he rose from the couch and walked toward her. Instead, he focused on the fact that Maggie had been working for five hours straight without so much as a bathroom break.
Standing behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and started rubbing the knot between her shoulder blades. She flinched for a second and then leaned into his massaging fingers, sighing softly.
“See, you need a break,” he chided. “You’re so stiff.”
And boy, did he know what stiff felt like. Although the material of her green long-sleeved shirt was woven from thick cotton, he could feel the heat of her skin underneath his fingertips. From there, his mind played a torturous game of What other parts of her body are hot? Her breasts? Her thighs? Her—
“I can feel you poking against my back, by the way.” The chair’s backrest left a gap between her lower back and shoulders, and she wiggled her tailbone against his growing erection.
Her teasing voice brought the warmth of embarrassment to his cheeks. Jesus. He was Ben Barrett. He didn’t get embarrassed when he sprang a boner.
“Don’t act like you’re not getting wet feeling me against you,” he growled.
“Wet? No. But I am a little hungry. Should we order a pizza?”
Some primitive part of him made him swivel the chair, determined to prove to this woman that his aroused state turned her on as much as it did him. Her eyes widened as he sank to his knees and dipped both hands under the waistband of her black fleece track pants.
“What are you doing?” she practically squeaked out the question. “I told you I have work to do.”
“And I told you it’s time to take a break.” He forcibly lifted her ass off the chair so he could peel her pants off her legs, running his hands over her as each smooth inch of skin was revealed. “You don’t need to wax your legs,” he murmured as he tossed the track pants aside.
She sighed. “I know. I lied.”
His mouth lifted in a grin, partly because of her admission, partly because that agitated look on her face was completely foreign on her. Since he’d met her, she’d been cool and composed, her green eyes flashing with fire on occasion, her cheeks reddening with arousal. He liked it all, but not as much as he enjoyed the vulnerability and raw desire currently expressed on her dainty features.
He continued to stroke her legs, and then moved his hands north again. Stroking the damp crotch of her bright yellow panties, he managed a chuckle. “Told you you’re wet.”
“You’re imagining it.”
He dragged his fingers up to her waistband.
She groaned and tried to wriggle away from his caress. “I don’t have time for this,” she grumbled.
“Sure you do.”
“I have homework…”
“It can wait.”
Before she could object further, he removed her panties and threw them out of her reach, then lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her clit.
She gasped.
Then sighed.
Then moaned.
Fighting back a smile, he kissed her again, and again, and again, until it dawned on him that he wasn’t out to prove a point anymore. He’d intended to show her she couldn’t hide the effect he had on her and prove the attraction between them was oh so mutual. But as he ran his tongue over her wet pussy, he forgot about all that.
She tasted like heaven. He swirled lazy figure-eights over her clit, savoring the sweet taste of her, groaning against her when she released a whimper of pleasure and widened her legs. If his cock wasn’t throbbing relentlessly and his head wasn’t buzzing with lust, he might have kept up the slow pace.
As it was, all he could do was speed up, suddenly anxious to bring her over the edge and make her scream his name as she came.