Talking Dirty with the CEO

chapter Seven


“You’re revolting this morning, St. John,” Marisa commented grumpily.

Christie put the coffee she’d bought on Marisa’s desk. “And a happy Monday to you, too.”

The other woman glowered. “There’s nothing happy about Mondays.”

Christie grinned. “What? Is that all the thanks I get for remembering your triple-shot, soy trim latte with the one sugar?”

Marisa gave her a distasteful look. “Hmm, a smile like Pollyanna, a new haircut, distinct lack of metal T-shirt, and, dear God, you’ve got sandals on your feet.” Her eyes widened. “And they’re pretty sandals! Okay, who are you and what have you done with Christie St. John?”

Christie resisted the urge to pat her newly trimmed hairstyle. So she may have gotten a haircut over the weekend. And she may have splurged on a new pair of shoes. She may have even hesitated with her usual choice of band T-shirt and put on a plain green tight-fitting one that reflected the color of her eyes instead, but what did that have to do with anything?

She shrugged. “Nothing. I felt like a change.”

“A change? Yeah, right. You hate having your hair done and you never wear sandals.” Marisa’s eyes narrowed. “You got lucky, didn’t you?”

Should she tell Marisa? She wanted to. Wanted to shout to the heavens that Christie St. John had had a whole night of hot sex with a gorgeous billionaire. A billionaire who thought she was smart and funny and sweet. And sexy. Definitely not forgetting the sexy!

Christie took a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear, then she sank down in the chair beside Marisa’s desk, giving in to the urge spill her guts. “You know that guy? The one I met for that dating thing?”

Marisa gave a shriek. “Really? Oh my God! Not Mr. You’re-So-Hot-I-Have-To-Have-You-Now?”

“Uh yeah, him. Well, I met him again.”

“Oh my God! Where? When? How? I want details!”

Should she reveal Joseph’s identity? It wouldn’t hurt. Her interview with the guy was going to be featured in the magazine, after all, and Marisa would no doubt guess in seconds flat anyway. She was uncanny like that. “I met him at the product launch.” Christie leaned in a bit closer. “It was Joseph Ashton.”

“What?” Marisa’s shriek made everyone in the office raise their heads and look around.

“Shut up, Mar.” Christie flapped her hands urgently. “No one knows, okay? I’d like it to stay that way.”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. But you had a night of hot, unbridled passion, right?”

“Yeah, hot.” Christie couldn’t stop herself grinning. “And the bridles were most definitely off.”

Both and more. Joseph had been an incredible lover, passionate and demanding, and yet, when she’d needed him to be, also tender and patient. She’d been amazed at how her touch affected him. And how uninhibited she’d been. Like he’d unlocked something inside her. A sensuality she’d never dreamed she’d possessed.

The whole night had been heady, intoxicating. Exciting.

Marisa gave another, more subdued shriek. “Whoa, you go girl. You bagged yourself one hell of a catch.”

“I didn’t catch anything,” Christie corrected. “It was only a night.”

They’d both agreed, hadn’t they? One night was all they’d wanted. Admittedly she’d had a moment’s fleeting regret when she opened her eyes and saw him sprawled beside her the next morning, his restless energy quiescent in sleep. But fleeting was all the regret had been. She hadn’t wanted to stay, hadn’t wanted the whole morning-after-the-night-before awkwardness of whether to swap numbers or who was to call whom and when. And the thought of telling him she’d changed her mind didn’t appeal either. So she’d quietly dressed and left.

It had been her decision and she was happy with it.

Marisa’s brow wrinkled. “But you’re seeing him again, right?”

Christie pushed herself up from the chair, sensing the end of the conversation was now in sight. At least, from her end. “Uh, no.”

The other woman blinked at her. “What. The. Hell?”

“Oh, I’m not into relationships at the moment, Mar,” she said casually. “I’m happy with my life. Guys just make things way too complicated.”

Marisa leaned on her desk, blue eyes level with Christie’s. “Two words. Bull. Shit.”

Before Christie could reply, Ben came out of his office. “Hey, Chris.” He dropped a sheaf of papers on Marisa’s desk. “Sorry, Marisa, just another couple of letters.” Ignoring Marisa’s audible groan, he turned to Christie. “Got that interview for me yet?”

As it happened, she had.

The morning she’d left Joseph’s place, she’d arrived home to find an e-mail from him with an attached bio that seemed to cover all Ben’s questions. Plus he’d told her that anything the bio didn’t answer, she could e-mail him with.

The bio had made for fascinating reading. She’d known all about how his business had grown but not that he’d been a high school dropout. Or that he’d had to take a number of lowly paid, menial jobs in order to survive when Ashton Tech had been in its infancy.

From there though, his small business had expanded into a major company that always seemed to be at the forefront of technology thanks to a heavily funded research-and-development arm, and a flair for design that was second to none.

Pretty good for a guy with no qualifications to speak of.

No, not pretty good. It was brilliant. He was brilliant.

She’d found she had a hundred other questions for him, none of which were appropriate for the interview. But one night was one night, no matter how fascinating she found his story.

Unable to resist the urge to contact him, she’d ended up e-mailing him a couple of silly questions, which he’d responded to more or less instantly. He’d even signed them Love Machine, which had given her a tiny thrill.

The result was an interview that Christie was sure no one had been able to get from the mysterious Joseph Ashton before. Ben was going to love it.

“Should be in your in-box,” Christie said, unable to keep the note of pride from her voice.

And she felt even prouder when Ben rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Excellent. I’ll go check it now.”

Twenty minutes later, Ben called her into his office, grinning like a maniac.

“This,” he said, gesturing to his computer screen, “is brilliant.”

“You mean the interview?” Christie bit her lip to stop from smiling.

“Yes, of course the interview. How did you get him to open up like that?”

She shrugged, as if encouraging reclusive tech CEOs to open up was something she did all the time. “Oh, it’s all part of my natural charm, I guess.”

“However you did it, well done, Chris,” Ben said, his gaze full of new respect. “Well done.”

The good feelings lasted for a couple of days, buoyed by Ben’s praise of her interview. But as the week went on and normality reasserted itself, they began to dissipate, leaving her restless and grumpy, as if she was missing something.

On Friday, even more grumpy and depressed, Christie opened her e-mail to find a message from Joseph.

Her heart gave a funny jump as she saw his name. She’d sent him a copy of her article a couple of days before as a courtesy gesture, but hadn’t expected a response.

But you wanted one.

No. She didn’t. Not at all. Why would she? She’d had one night with him and that’s all she needed. She didn’t care if she didn’t hear from him again, right?

And yet as she hit open on his e-mail, she found her finger trembling.

Hey Naughtygirl, the article was great. I’m impressed. You write extremely well, you know that? But of course you know that. Just like there are other things you can also do extremely well. But I’m not putting those in an e-mail.

BTW, if you ever want a hands-on tech job (and no, not that kind of job), come see me. There’s a position in our research department that I think you’d enjoy.

Call me.

Love Machine

He liked it. And she hadn’t known how much she’d hoped he would like it until now.

Christie reached for the bottle of Coke on her desk and took a swallow, moistening her dry mouth. For a brief moment she hovered over the reply button, an urge to send him something back, maintain that contact, filling her.

Then again, what was the point? She didn’t want a relationship. He’d been a great ego boost but that was as far as it went. They had nothing in common but chemistry and stereos. Yeah, he’d already told her he wasn’t into gaming, and although he headed a major technology company he so didn’t look like the type of guy who’d enjoy tinkering with motherboards and circuits. Hands-on tech job or no.

Oh darling, no one’s interested in all that computer stuff. Absolutely no one. Why can’t you find something more interesting to do?

Christie growled and pushed Helene’s intrusive voice out of her head.

It was his loss, not hers. His. With a certain amount of determination, she deleted his e-mail.

She felt good about it for the rest of the day. Like the kind of woman who could have mad, passionate sex with a hot guy then leave him without a backward glance. Strong and confident and kick-ass.

But when she got home that night, all the kick-assedness had vanished, leaving a creeping kind of loneliness in its place. Her apartment, in the inner-city neighborhood of Ponsonby, had always felt safe. But tonight the familiar untidiness of it, with her Star Wars posters on the wall, the bits of electronics from the PC she was rebuilding all over the table, the remains of a half-eaten pizza from the night before still on the couch, felt kind of sad.

A computer nerd’s bachelorette pad.

For some reason it made her think of Joseph’s pristine apartment. How tidy it had been. How clean. God, if he ever came here and saw the filth she lived in, he’d have a heart attack.

Not that she cared about that. It was her home and she had nothing to be ashamed of.

And why was she thinking of him anyway?

Christie tried to wash away the annoying thoughts of Joseph in the shower, thinking instead about logging in to Zombie Force Online. Hopefully she could get rid of the stupid, lonely feeling with a good round of blasting aliens with awesome lasers instead.

…

Joseph couldn’t concentrate. He felt restless, edgy. Even more wired than normal.

He frowned at the sales figures he was supposed to be looking at but couldn’t seem to get them straight in his head. Always a bad sign when he couldn’t concentrate on sales.

He flicked another look at his in-box. No e-mail from her. Again.

Cursing, he pushed himself up from his desk and stalked around his office. There was a treadmill in the corner he often used for burning up excess energy, but he didn’t feel like running. He felt like something else. Something that burned up the same amount of energy but in a far more pleasurable way.

He wanted Christie.

His brain fixated on her. He couldn’t get her out of his head. All unpredictable passion and vulnerability. Courage and determination. He burned to know more about her and he was annoyed—no, extremely pissed off—that she hadn’t replied to his e-mail.

At the very least a thank-you for the job offer would have been nice.

Joseph made another restless pass around the office. It was dark outside the windows, all the rest of his people having long gone home. But not him. Him and his restlessness.

He moved to the desk and sat down again, opening up the Internet search page and Googling her name. It felt a bit pathetic to do so, a bit too teenage boy, but the curiosity inside him refused to let go. Anyway, he reasoned, if she did happen to accept his R&D job offer, it would be good to know something about her, right?

A whole host of hits came up and he scrolled through them, eventually finding what he was looking for.

Christie St. John. Features writer for Total Tech. Who also, it appeared, spent a lot of time on gaming chat forums, not to mention participating in online gaming tournaments. No surprises there, and great scores, too, from what he could see. Not much else apart from the fact that she seemed to be related in some way to a well-known Auckland society family.

He scrolled through some of the online gossip columns as more hits came up. Not just related as it turned out. She was the daughter of Helene St. John, ex-beauty queen turned socialite, one of the undisputed divas of the Auckland society circuit.

A picture popped up on his screen. An old one from the looks of things, at least a few years. A tall, slender, stunningly beautiful older woman with perfect blond hair and wide green eyes stood smiling at the camera, a glass held in one elegant hand. And behind her, partially obscured, another, much younger woman…a girl, really. Standing there in that awkward, gangly way teenage girls had when they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Christie. In a pretty dress and heels, peering out from the Pre-Raphaelite mass of her hair.

Joseph frowned. His Naughtygirl in her Docs and skull T-shirt a society maven? And yet there was the evidence. God, she’d been gorgeous even then. Was that where her insecurity came from, maybe? Her mother was hard as nails from the looks of things.

Going back to his list of hits, he clicked through to Total Tech’s website and found her mobile number.

Ringing her was a bad idea, he knew that. He’d gotten what he wanted, one night of hot sex. She hadn’t wanted any more and he hadn’t questioned it because neither did he.

But perhaps he should just check about the job offer. He’d been quite serious about it and it would be good to know what she thought.

At least that was his excuse, and he was sticking to it.

Picking up his phone, he dialed her number. It seemed to take a while for her to answer and when she did, her voice sounded huskier than he remembered. But man, the sound of it still made parts of him directly south of the border start to harden.

“Hey Naughtygirl,” he said, kicking back his chair and putting his feet up on his desk.

“Joseph?”

God, he loved the way she said his name. “Yeah, it’s me. You were supposed to call, remember? About the job offer?”

“Job offer? Oh, the e-mail. I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Of course I was serious. I would never offer you a job if I didn’t mean it.” And he wouldn’t. He only took the best for Ashton Technology. “Your writing is fantastic but I’m wondering if you’d prefer something more hands-on. My research department could use someone who thinks outside the box and who’s passionate about tech. Someone like you, in other words.”

A small silence down the other end of the line. “I…well…thanks. Can I think about it?”

Something in her tone made him frown. She sounded quiet and almost fragile.

It made his chest feel tight. “Are you okay, honey?”

This time the silence seemed to stretch forever.

“Yes,” Christie replied, but she didn’t sound okay. That note in her voice gripped him and wouldn’t let go.

“Well, I’m not.” He paused. “I’m feeling lonely here and I keep thinking of sheepskin rugs. And you naked on them.”

A soft intake of breath. “Oh, are you?”

“Yeah.” A strange feeling swept through him. Almost as if he was nervous or unsure of himself. Which was just damn weird since he was never either of those things. He shook it off. “What do you think?”

“I…I don’t know.” She sounded hesitant. “I thought we weren’t going to see each other again.”

“We weren’t.” Words on his tongue, words he never thought he’d say. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. I want another night, Christie.”

Another long silence.

He found himself gripping the phone tight. “Don’t say no.”

Finally, she spoke. “Okay. I won’t.”

Ridiculous to feel so relieved but nevertheless he did. “Then give me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You want to come here?” More surprise.

“I want to see where you live.” To sate the curiosity burning a hole in his gut.

For a long moment he thought she wasn’t going to agree, then rather abruptly, she told him her address. In Ponsonby, not far from his downtown office. Fantastic—at this time of night it would only take him five minutes at most.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she told him, a defensive edge to her voice. “It’s just a crummy apartment.”

“How could it be just a crummy apartment with you in it? I’ll be there in five.”

…

Christie stared around the apartment at the wires, cables, and electronics tools scattered all over the table. At the clothes draped over the couch, the tech magazines spread untidily over the coffee table, the books facedown, spines irretrievably broken. The half-eaten pizza and the half-drunk coffees.

Ugh.

She should never have said yes. What had she been thinking only a little while ago about his apartment? Neat and tidy and clean. Full of expensive furniture and art. And hers was…

Ugh. Just ugh.

Her jaw tightened as she battled the urge to do a frantic cleanup. No, why should she?

Yeah, she had a sad computer-geek type of apartment. So what? He was only coming around to have sex, nothing more. And she had no problems with that.

A shivering excitement welled up inside her at the thought of seeing him again, and she found herself surveying the mess and deciding that perhaps he was worth neatening up for after all.

Springing into action, Christie got rid of the leftover pizza and coffee mugs, chucked the clothes into her bedroom, did a double-take once she actually saw the state of the bedroom, realized the bedroom was actually going to be used, chucked everything off the bedroom floor into the wardrobe, then stuffed everything that didn’t fit in the wardrobe into the tiny hall cupboard.

When she’d finished, the apartment was looking…okay. So not all that tidy but at least it had lost that sad, unkempt look. Unlike her, alas.

Christie stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway and pulled a face at her reflection. In a faded Yoda T-shirt with “Do or do not. There is no try” on the front of it and a pair of comfy, baggy gray sweatpants, she knew she looked like the kind of person who never left her apartment.

Pride, St. John?

The doorbell rang and Christie sighed. Too late for pride. Perhaps now Joseph would see what he was really getting himself into.

Swallowing back a sudden burst of nervousness and the even stronger burst of excitement, Christie walked sedately to the door. No, she would not run to open it. She wasn’t a teenage girl and he wasn’t her first date. She would be calm and cool. Casual even.

And then she pulled open the door and her good intentions scattered like a flock of nervous hens.

Joseph, all lithe, athletic grace, lounged in the hallway outside. Dressed in black jeans, a snug dark-blue T-shirt, and Chuck Taylor sneakers, he looked even more handsome than he had in his suit at the product launch. Oh, boy, was she in trouble. Big trouble.

“Hey, Naughtygirl,” he said and gave her the grin she remembered. The grin that made it difficult to breathe. “I like your hair.”

Pleased he’d noticed her haircut, she blushed like a fool. “Uh, thanks. Come in.”

As he stepped inside and she shut the door behind him, an arm snaked around her waist, drawing her close. Then he turned her in his arms, sliding his fingers into her hair and pulling her head back, his mouth covering hers.

A sigh escaped her as desire began to build, filling her up like a rain-swollen river. Why did it feel like she’d missed this? They’d only been to bed twice and yet she felt like a starving woman given her first taste of chocolate. Could she really have built up such a craving for him after so little time?

Joseph lifted his head, smiling at her soft sound of protest. “You know I’m not just here for sex, right?”

Christie lifted her arms around his neck, an absurd dart of happiness going through her. As if his presence had somehow lifted the cloud she’d felt settle over her all week.

“Well, I hope you didn’t come here just for conversation.” She pressed her body against him, feeling the hard evidence of his desire, loving the way the blue flame leaped in his eyes in response.

“Considering I’ve never had a proper conversation with you, I’m kind of thinking that mightn’t be a bad idea.”

She pulled a face. “Why?”

“Christie.” His fingers circled her wrists, drawing her hands away from him. The look on his face told her he intended to get his way. “I’m curious. Indulge me.”

Blowing out a long breath, she tried not to feel sulky and failed. “Fine.” She waved an arm at the tiny space of her living room. “Well, ta-da. Welcome to my humble abode. Pretty much all you see is all you get.”

Joseph stepped away from her and she had to close her hands into fists to keep from reaching after him. He began to prowl around the room, all fluid grace and power. Like a lion in a cage and just as restless. It made her feel nervous again, though she didn’t really understand why.

“It’s great,” he said. “Small and perfectly formed.” He flashed her a glance. “Just like you.”

Christie felt her cheeks go hot. “Hey, I’m not small.”

“But you are perfectly formed.”

Which only made her blush harder.

He made another pass around the room before stopping by her dining table, the surface strewn with electronics and computer parts. He frowned at it and then said, in tones of deep surprise, “My God, is than an Arkon 75?”

The question startled her. Not many people recognized the vintage computer she was in the process of rebuilding. They’d first come out about thirty years ago and she’d been enjoying the challenge of trying to get it going again.

She wandered over to the table. “Yeah. How did you know?”

He didn’t look up, his attention caught by the half-built computer sitting on the dining table. “Are you kidding me? My dad had one of these. I grew up with it.” He leaned over to peer inside the computer box. “This is incredible. You’re rebuilding it?”

Christie leaned her hip against the table, feeling oddly shy. She’d gotten into fiddling with electronics after she’d discovered her brother’s forgotten crystal set. Her mother had disapproved of her interest, naturally enough. In her opinion, teenage girls should be into clothes and makeup, not wires and circuits. But for Christie it had been like finally finding the thing she was really good at. That and writing.

“Um…yeah, I am,” she admitted, biting her lip.

Long, clever fingers touched some of the wires.

“Be careful,” she said automatically.

He gave a soft laugh. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing, believe me.” His eyes glinted as he glanced up at her. “When I was a kid, I pulled dad’s computer apart because I wanted to see how it worked. Admittedly that was before I knew how to put it back together again. My mother…” He stopped suddenly. Looked away.

“Your mother?” she prompted, looking down at him.

Black lashes feathered his cheekbones, his attention on the computer. “Was angry with me,” he said after a moment. “I could never sit still, always had to be doing something. I once took apart her washing machine because I wanted to see where all the water went. She was not happy.”

“I can imagine. Mothers, huh?”

“So, what’s the deal with vintage computers then?”

Christie stared at him. That had been a very definite change of subject. Was there something about his mother he didn’t like talking about? If so, she could relate. Boy, could she relate.

“I just like messing around with electronics,” she said, too unsure of him to push it. “And my dad had an Arkon, too, and I used to spend hours playing Time Thief. I thought it would be cool to get one going again.”

Joseph straightened, the look on his face bright with interest and curiosity. He looked like an excited boy. “Please tell me you’ve got the rubber keyboard that used to come with them?”

His grin was so infectious she just had to grin back. “Oh yeah. And remember the tape deck? Instead of a disk drive?”

“My God, yes.” He pulled out one of the dining chairs. “Come on, show me,” he said imperiously. “I want to know where you’re at.”

Christie didn’t know quite how it happened but the next time she looked up, a whole hour had passed. A whole hour spent playing with computer parts, reminiscing about old computer games and arguing happily about the advances in gaming technology.

So much for her thinking he wouldn’t be interested.

She should have been pleased about it but she wasn’t. She was anxious.

She didn’t know all of a sudden. A few days ago the thought of him wanting a night with her seemed like the biggest thrill ever. But now it was like that wasn’t enough. It was like she wanted more, which was dumb because she’d been telling herself all week that she didn’t.

Why? What had changed between them?

Christie turned her head, watching his face as he looked down at the piece of circuitry in his hands, his brows drawn down in intense concentration. One leg jogged constantly and yet his hands were still, handling the delicate electronics with care. The strange mix of movement and stillness, impatience and care, made her heart give an odd sort of lurch.

And she knew what had changed. She liked him. Liked being with him. Liked his interest and enthusiasm in something that interested and excited her. It made her feel good in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

“Do you really want to be here?” The words popped out before she could stop herself.

Joseph’s head jerked up in surprise. “What?”

“Do you really want to be here? You know, fiddling around with bits of crappy electronics and talking about gaming?”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he put down the circuit board he was holding and leaned his elbow on the table. “Yes, of course I want to be here fiddling with bits of crappy electronics and talking about gaming.”

“But it’s not what you came for, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You came here for sex, not this.” She gestured toward the table strewn with wires and screws and all sorts of other paraphernalia.

“Christie, I came here because I wanted to see you. If you don’t want sex, that’s fine. I’m happy sitting here talking to you. And that’s the truth.”

Her throat felt tight. “Oh. Well…great.”

“Hey, what’s up?” He searched her face. “Why all this doubt?”

She opened her mouth, the usual denials at the ready. But that wasn’t what came out. “Because I like doing this with you. And I’m afraid you’re not enjoying this. I’m afraid you’re only doing it to pass time before we went to bed.”

An expression she couldn’t interpret shifted in his gaze. “Honey, there’s something you should know about me,” he said softly. “You remember what I said about my mother not liking the fact that I couldn’t sit still as a kid? Well, I can’t even as an adult. I hate it, in fact. After a couple of minutes I have to get up and do something else. Yet you’ve kept me here in this chair for a whole hour. And I didn’t even notice. What does that tell you about how I was enjoying it?”

The blush came without her permission as always, but this time it wasn’t wholly because of embarrassment. This time there was pleasure there, too. A tendril of warmth uncurled inside her.

“Oh.”

“You say that a lot.”

The tendril uncurled a bit more. “I don’t like compliments.”

“I noticed.” He smiled, his gaze dropping to her mouth and back again. “How are you with kisses?”

The tendril uncurled into a small flower, blooming in her heart. “Kisses?” Christie swallowed. “Actually, I don’t mind kisses.”

Joseph stared at her. “Show me.”

And just like that, she wanted him. So much she trembled. Slowly she leaned forward and brushed his beautiful mouth with hers. A tentative kiss.

His hand caught the back of her head, holding her there. His mouth beneath hers opened but without demand, letting her take control. Letting her kiss him, letting her explore him. An intoxicating feeling, to have this man so quiet under her hands, this man who was always moving, always restless.

Her excitement began to build along with her confidence, and she found her hands in his hair, fingers curled in the silky strands as she kissed him deeper, exploring his mouth with an insistence she hadn’t realized was in her.

“Oh, Naughtygirl,” Joseph murmured. “I like you being demanding. Show me more.”

She didn’t know how it happened. One moment she was sitting in her chair kissing him, the next she was in his lap, straddling him, her mouth exploring his strong jaw, his neck, the column of his throat. He gave a soft growl of approval, his hands sliding beneath the waistband of her sweatpants and then beneath that of her panties, to smooth over the bare skin of her bottom, squeezing her gently.

Christie shuddered, finding his mouth again, kissing him harder, wanting to show him exactly how demanding she could be.

Joseph’s hips flexed beneath her, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against the damp heat between her thighs. It felt so good, so intense.

“Give me more,” he said against her lips. “I know you can.”

Her mouth dried. Yes, she could. And she would. For him she could do anything.

Christie slid off his lap.

“Hey,” he protested, “where are you going?”

She met his gaze, the blue gone dark with desire. He looked hungry and she liked it. Liked it more than she’d ever thought possible.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. And before she could change her mind, she shucked off her sweatpants, taking her underwear off with them. Then she walked back over to his chair and climbed back into his lap, facing him.

Joseph gave a soft curse, his hands on her thighs, stroking her. “Dammit, Christie. Are you trying to make me lose it here or what?”

“You said wanted more.” Her hands dropped to the buttons of his jeans and unbuttoned them, fingers pulling down the waistband of his boxers, setting him free. “So I’m giving you more.”

He said her name as she touched him, gripping him, the velvet heat of his shaft against her palm. She closed her hand on him, reveling in the evidence of how much he wanted her.

Joseph arched his hips as she moved her hand, a groan breaking from him.

It gave her such a thrill to see the stark need on his face, gave her such a sense of power that her touch could do this to him. Could make him gasp her name. Make him groan with desire. She didn’t think she’d ever get sick of it.

Then one of his hands moved, fingers curling under her thigh, sliding higher to stroke the damp folds of her sex, making her shudder, setting her on fire. Then he slid a finger inside her.

Her soft gasp turning into a groan as he eased in a second, thrusting gently.

“Yeah, honey,” his voice a growl. “Keep doing that. I want to watch you come.”

She’d never been the type for dirty talk or letting it all hang out. Sex had always been awkward and if it hadn’t been awkward then it had just been…nice.

But this wasn’t nice. Straddling a guy in a chair while he brought you to orgasm with his hand? Oh, that wasn’t nice. That was dirty. And hot. And so erotic she almost came there and then.

Christie arched back. Her grip on him faltered, became jerky as the movement of his fingers became faster. Harder.

She screwed her eyes shut, panting. It was too much. Way too much. “Joseph, I can’t…I’m going to…”

But then he brushed her * with his thumb and the climax roared over her, unstoppable. She cried out, shuddering, losing herself for a couple of seconds.

“Come back to me, beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, his hands sliding up her spine. Then, husky and soft, “Wallet. Back pocket.”

It took her a moment to process what he was actually talking about. Then another to come back to earth. Then she couldn’t get to it fast enough, leaning around to grab his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. There were several condoms in it, and thank God for that because she certainly didn’t have any.

She ripped open the packet.

Joseph watched her, his eyes half-closed, blue glittering from beneath black lashes. “You do it this time.”

And Christie found that this time, she wanted to. She took him in her hand, rolling the latex down over him, feeling his thighs tense underneath her, hearing the sharp hiss of his breath. His response made her heart pound with excitement. With anticipation.

Yet she found herself wanting to draw it out, tease him even more.

“Do it,” he ordered roughly as her hands lingered on him. “I need you now.”

I need you now.

A demand she’d give in to every time.

Christie lifted herself up, positioning him, then she sank down onto him. He was big and hard, and he stretched her, making her tremble, making her grasp.

He groaned her name, his head falling back, his hands gripping her hips tight. She began to move on him, a deep, slow rhythm that had her panting, the tight burn of pleasure starting again, becoming more intense with every lift of her hips.

Joseph shifted, one hand sliding up her spine under her T-shirt, pressing her close, while the other gripped the back of her head. Then he pulled her mouth down on his, hard and hot and demanding, the flex of his hips driving her further and further into madness. Further and further into pleasure.

Until everything fell away and there was nothing left in the whole universe to hold on to. Nothing except him.