…
Will had never had this kind of reaction to a woman before and it unnerved him. It took everything in him not to shuck his pants and shove himself deep inside Claire right there, in the limo, which was not how he had intended this to play out. “My God, what you do to me, Claire.”
And then she did something completely unexpected. With lust-darkened eyes, she gave him a pointed stare and motioned him closer. Without hesitation, he complied.
“I want you, Will,” she said, slipping first out of her shirt and bra, then her skirt, reclining against the leather in nothing but lavender lace panties. “Now,” she said, leaning forward to undo his pants. She parted her legs and pulled him even closer.
Heart hammering, he knelt on the floor between her feet, hips between her knees, and once his zipper was down, she lifted his shirt and ran her warm hands over his abdomen. She leaned forward to kiss a trail from his sternum to his navel, then shoved his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.
An involuntary groan escaped his throat as he ran his fingers over the lavender scrap of lace barely covering her, feeling dampness through the sheer material. And right as he slipped his fingers under the elastic to remove this final barrier, his phone rang.
Fucking “Smooth Operator” played from his phone in the door pocket. He should have turned it off.
She groaned and leaned back against the seat, legs on either side of him, lavender-clad heaven still within his reach. “Just take his call and get rid of him,” she groaned.
“Dammit!” He had to take the call or his brother would probably send Chance out to find him. “Hold on a fucking minute,” he shouted into the phone before putting it on hold. He’d talk to him, but not with his pants down. He slid his clothes back in place but stayed unzipped to save that time when he got back to Claire. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “Don’t move.”
She grinned and ran her fingers over herself. “Even to do this?”
“Especially to do that.” Fuck, she was hot. He’d kill Michael for this.
Taking a deep breath and not looking at Claire, he plopped his ass in the seat on the opposite side of the limo facing her. When he went to push the “resume call” button, he noticed a text from Jim: 5 mil.
Clarify, Will texted back.
$5,000,000 wired into Claire Maddox’s account yesterday. Source unknown.
He looked over at Claire. Her hair was fanned across the back of the seat and she looked completely relaxed with her legs just far apart enough for his hips to fit between her knees.
Five million dollars was a shit-ton of money. Surely there was a valid explanation other than that she was on the take. There was no way she was the spy. No way in hell. He’d ask her about it and clear it up after he spoke with his asshole brother.
He pushed the button. “Okay. What’s on fucking fire, Mikey?”
“Obviously your pants. Chance tells me you’re out with the Maddox woman.”
He shot a look across at Claire and she smiled. “Yeah. Don’t start.” He needed to be careful with what he said so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea—or so she wouldn’t know what was actually being said if Michael came unhinged over his dating a sort-of employee.
“I thought she was our prime suspect?”
Will kept his voice calm and conversational. “Not anymore.”
“Do you have evidence to clear her?”
“Not yet.” He tried to make it seem like a friendly conversation from his side.
Michael’s voice rose even louder. “So you’re fucking someone who might be fucking us over?”
Will turned so his head was between the phone and Claire. “Not yet, but I hope to be soon.” A quick glance at Claire revealed she had pulled her knees together and was sitting upright. He pressed the phone tighter against his ear to muffle the sound in case she could hear, which he knew was impossible over the road noise and soft music playing. “Please keep your voice down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Will! I gave you one simple task.” Will fumbled with the volume button on the side of the phone, but didn’t find it before his brother shouted, “I told you to find out who the spy was. I didn’t tell you to fuck her.” Will hung up on his brother, but it was too late. From the opposite side of the limo, Claire was shaking, staring at him like he’d sprouted a third eye.
She didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. This was bad. Real bad. Like drop-and-cover bad.
“Smooth Operator” started up on his phone again. He ignored it.
He held his palms up and used the most soothing tone he could conjure. “Claire…”
“Don’t.” It didn’t even sound like her voice. It was distant and threatening. “Don’t say a word.” She snatched her bra from the floor and put it on.