Holy cow.
He was steaming hot. With that disheveled bedhead, broad shoulders, strong chest, and moss-green gaze of his—he belonged on the front page of a fashion magazine. He was dressed in a black well-tailored business suit, white shirt, and a black silk tie. His trademark upper button was undone, allowing a glimpse of bronze, smooth skin. Skin I had licked and trailed with my fingertips all the way down his smooth torso to the narrow line of dark hair that—
“Brooke?” His tone was detached, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed his amusement.
He knew I found him attractive, and he made no secret of it. Damn him and his inflated ego. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that I was still staring. But as much as I tried, I couldn’t peel my eyes off him. The way his slacks rode low on his hips, emphasizing a bulge and strong quadriceps, reminded me I had rode on those thighs merely twelve hours ago. I could still taste his skin on my lips as we moved in perfect unison. Damn! Why couldn’t I get the picture of him naked out of my head?
“You want me to come to your office?” Stupid question since he’d already said so.
He nodded slowly. “Only if you don’t mind.”
“Okay.” I jumped to my feet and wiped my clammy hands on the front of my skirt nervously. Jett held the door open and motioned me to walk past, not moving an inch. I squeezed myself between his towering body and the hard doorframe, my ass brushing the front of his slacks, sending my dirty mind into a frenzy.
“This space is crammed. No wonder people can’t wait to get the hell out of here for an early release,” Jett whispered.
My gaze flew up to meet his. His poker face was still in place, but his eyes seemed to poke fun at me.
“I like crammed places,” I muttered through gritted teeth, and headed down the corridor into what I hoped was the right direction.
“Shame,” Jett whispered behind me.
Trying my hardest to ignore my acute awareness of him, I inhaled a sharp breath and held it as I slowly counted to five. It was my way to keep my calm in the face of a storm, only this storm was raging right inside my panties.
“Next door to your right,” Jett said.
Even without his instructions, I would have been able to distinguish his office from his coworkers because it was the only one boasting blinds that were half-drawn.
Amazed by the design, I stepped into the large room and stopped to admire his workspace. His office resembled the one in his house in Bellagio, minus the mountain views, expensive art, and personal touch. A polished wood desk and swivel chair were set up in front of the window overlooking New York’s skyscrapers. To my right was a huge sofa in chocolate brown leather and a glass table. To my left was a closed door that blended in seamlessly with the light gray wall. Two large palm trees and a minibar gave the impression of a laid-back attitude which, given Jett’s reputation, couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“You don’t work here very often, do you?” I turned to face Jett and instantly regretted it. My statement sounded like he didn’t work at all. The same thought probably crossed his mind, and his green eyes immediately darkened. An instant later, it was gone and his lips stretched into a hint of a smile.
“What gives me away?”
Swallowing past the sudden need in my throat, I pointed around me. “The barely used couch. The plants someone probably picked up at Plantworks. The fact that there’s barely anything on your desk.”
“Good observation skills, Ms. Stewart. I’m impressed.”
His flattery shouldn’t have had the effect it had on me, and yet I found myself grinning, pleased like punch that Jett Mayfield thought I had good observation skills. “You should see what other skills I have in store,” I purred, not quite sure where I was heading with this.
His brow quirked up, and an amused glint appeared in his eyes. “I was planning to…right after discussing new developments in the Lucazzone case. Now that you’re mentioning it, checking your skills is a priority indeed.”
Ever so slowly, he closed the blinds and locked the door, sending my insides into a raging storm. A delicious shiver rocked my body. As our eyes connected, a heated ache began to throb between my legs.
Sweet mercy. He wouldn’t do it here, would he?
With measured steps he inched closer, pushing me against the hard edge of his desk. I fought for breath, suddenly panting even though he hadn’t even touched me yet.
“We’re at work,” was the lame excuse my mind came up with.
“So?”
My pulse spiked. I brushed my hair off my face, outraged. “People could hear us.”