“As much as this?” He pushed her knees farther apart, her feet still on the arms of his chair, then leaned forward and flicked the tip of his tongue over her most sensitive part. She gasped, and he did it again. This time, she moaned.
“That’s what I thought.” Using both hands, he parted her and looked up at her face. The cool air against her wet skin sent a jolt of heat through her, and the thought of how exposed she was caused her to squirm. The table creaked underneath her.
“Will, I need…”
“I know.” He lowered his head and ran his talented tongue from bottom to top several times while she held on to the edge of the table for dear life.
The table creaked again as he fell into a rhythm that drove her wild. One hand splayed across her belly and the other wrapped around himself. She angled her body to give him better access and threw her head back, focusing on the texture and pressure of his tongue as the waves of desire grew and filled her from head to toe.
When he closed his mouth over her and concentrated on the one spot that made her wild, that was it. With only a few calculated circles of his tongue, she shattered apart, calling his name. She was completely lost, oblivious to anything but his touch and the passion rolling through her in waves.
Crack!
The table tilted and she tumbled onto his lap. Their bodies collided, causing both of them to freeze. Knees on either side of his hips in the wide, comfortable chair, she sat astride his lap, completely immobile except for the tiny aftershock tremors still rolling through her.
There was no sound except for the hum of the plane engines and their heavy breathing as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“That would be a Claire-ism,” she said.
“Or fate,” he replied.
“We broke the table.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
She slid forward and back over his erection and he groaned. “I hope you brought some supplies back with you, Mr. Anderson.”
He reached down and grabbed his shorts from the floor, fishing in the pocket. “Lucky for you, I did.”
“Lucky for both of us.”
He pulled her down against his chest and took her lips in an insistent, charged kiss. “We are lucky, Claire. The luckiest people I know.”
Chapter Sixteen
By the time they landed, Will had a new definition for lucky. Claire teased him about being the boss, but hell, he felt like the king of the world.
He slid into the limo buzzing like he’d just run the Ironman. His whole body hummed with endorphins and something else—happiness. For the first time in a very long time, Will was truly happy, and he owed it all to the woman in the seat next to him. He reached over and took her hand.
Jacob paused before closing the door. “I’m sorry about this, sir, but your brother Michael said it was urgent he speak with you. He asked you to call him the minute you land.”
He pulled both phones out of the pocket in the limo door where they’d left them, and turned his on.
“Welcome back to reality,” Claire said, taking her own phone and pushing the power button.
Michael was probably pissed he’d taken the weekend off. Hell, Mikey got pissed about everything that wasn’t on a schedule or color-coded. He’d always thought his brother needed someone in his life who would conform and follow his rules. But maybe Claire was right. The best thing for him would be to have someone come in and shake him up for once. And right now, Will wanted to shake him. Not that way, but until his teeth rattled. He could have at least given them until Monday morning.
“Well, I have good news at least,” she said, scrolling through a message. “Heather’s at my place packing for me.”
“That’s a good friend who will help you move.”
The minute his phone got a signal, “Smooth Operator” started up. “Yeah, Mike. What’s up?”
Claire shot him a nervous look, so he put the phone on speaker. Total transparency from now on.
His brother’s voice sounded benign coming through the tiny phone speaker. “I’m not going to address how I feel about company policy or what a prick I think you are, Will.”
“That’s decent of you, brother,” Will responded, winking at Claire. “So I’ll do the same.”
“Sometimes I fucking want to kill you.”
“Sometimes? I must be losing my touch.” He leaned back against the seat, knowing this was going to be long and frustrating.
“There’s been another one reported while you’ve been…out.”
That, he didn’t expect. He sat forward, phone in palm. “Do you have any details?”
“Whittle’s grandson came in with a set of canopic jars. They were diverted to another dealer the same day.”
“When?”
“The day of the Guidry auction. Whittle said he was approached by a petite blonde in a business suit around nine o’clock.”
Will didn’t answer. Claire had left just after seven. He hadn’t arrived at her place until after ten. No. Just, fucking no. He knew better. He knew Claire.
“Your girl was the only one working on this one,” Michael said. “I’m so sorry. It’s not looking good.”