Dirty Filthy Rich Love (Dirty Duet #2) Page 11

  Warmth spread within me. It was a nice thing to feel wanted.

  "I'm glad I could help you out," he said into the phone. "Or not help you out, as the case may be. I'll pull my man off the case immediately."

  He was quiet for a moment, obviously listening, but all the while he ate me up with his gaze. Slowly, he traced up my Dolce & Gabbana knee-high boots, higher along my tight-fitting pencil skirt. Then he scaled the curve of my abdomen and the swell of my breasts to follow the arch of my neck, the line of my lips.

  By the time he reached my eyes, my skin was hot and my panties were slick. He shifted in his seat and I wondered if he was turned on.

  "I hate to interrupt you Cade, but an urgent matter has just made itself known." He paused, and I bit back a giggle. "No, no. Nothing to worry about. I can handle her. Er, it. I'll see you later this week."

  I crossed my arms casually across my chest. "Cade Warren?" It wasn’t my fault that I’d been eavesdropping. He’d been the one to leave the door open. “Was that the Cade you were talking to?”

  Cade was the fifth founder of Reach. He ran the Tokyo office and rarely made it to the United States. As such, I hadn’t met him yet.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact. He was having a little trouble finding someone he used to know. I was helping him out with some of my resources." Donovan leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other at the knee.

  "You are good with those resources, aren't you?" Everything he’d done for me without me knowing? That took a man who knew people.

  "That I am. But he’s found who he's looking for now. So he doesn't need me anymore." With barely even a breath to note the change in subject, he said, "I'm hard."

  "Because of Cade?" I teased. "Apparently he'll be here later this week for Weston's wedding. We'll have to make sure you two schedule some alone time."

  Weston's fake wedding. It seemed silly that Cade was traveling halfway across the world for that. But I was looking forward to meeting him.

  "Not because of Cade." With a nod of his head he gestured for me to come farther into the room.

  I waited a fraction of a beat then pulled the door closed behind me. Anyone lingering around the office might be able to see us through the glass, but they didn't need to hear this conversation. It was private.

  "Something on your mind?" he asked as I walked toward his desk. "Because if you just stopped by to visit, I am more than willing to occupy your time."

  I had to clench my thighs together to distract myself from the buzz between them. There'd be time for that later. There'd be time for everything later.

  First…this.

  "I wondered if your offer was still on the table." My voice sounded breathier, more seductive than I meant it to. Or maybe it was exactly as seductive as I meant it to sound.

  "Why yes, Ms. Lind." Even with his devilish grin, his statement managed to sound sweet. "Are you ready to get down on your knees?"

  I rolled my eyes. "We’re still negotiating."

  He raised a brow. "Then you're ready to negotiate?"

  "I'm ready, yes. I'm ready to tell you what I want." I felt shaky all of a sudden, excited. I was eager to say what I had to say.

  If he was nervous, he didn't show it. "Sit," he said, and pointed at the chair across from him.

  "Like a real business meeting.” I slunk down in the chair. I crossed my legs, letting my skirt ride up my thigh. "Nice." I was being sassier than I needed to be simply because the business terms still prickled at me.

  "Keep provoking me, Sabrina, and we'll both have a good evening.”

  A delicious shiver ran down my spine. I had to keep focused. Because the sooner I got through this, the sooner I'd have his mouth on me.

  And I really needed his mouth on me.

  "I hope that's a promise,” I pushed one more time.

  It was perhaps pushing a little too far because his response was serious. "What do you want, Sabrina?"

  I swallowed, letting my tone match the somberness of his. "You. I want you."

  My words hung in the air like the tinsel and the mistletoe of the season. Donovan heard them, absorbed them. I saw them sinking into his skin, saw the flicker of his eyes as they started to form meaning inside him.

  I went on.

  "I wanted you at Harvard. I couldn't admit it to myself back then, but I wanted you. I wanted you all the years we were apart. Every night in the dark, it was you I thought about. I wanted you when I got here, from the moment I saw you. I wanted you even when I was with Weston. I wanted you when you flew across the ocean to get away from me. And when I found the file showing me all the ways I had you? I wanted you all the more."

  He tilted his head just a bit to the right, not enough to disturb my train of thought. Just enough to show he was listening.

  "And if that file represents who you really are—which isn’t all of you, trust me, but let's say it's a significant part of you—then I don't want to change any of that."

  Not any of it.

  Okay, maybe some of it. Small modifications. But we’d get there momentarily.

  Donovan's eyes narrowed. "I don't think you know what you're saying, Sabrina."

  "Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me like that. I know what I'm saying. I’m saying go ahead and butt in. Interfere. Take care of me." Wasn't that what even Cinderella wanted?

  He started to say something else, but I jumped in. "With some understandings in place."

  "Right. Terms." He didn't sound angry about the idea. In fact, he seemed quite comfortable with this direction. "Name them."

  I glared at his word choice but decided not to argue about semantics. "Mainly, transparency. I want to know what you're up to. If you're maneuvering things behind the scenes, I want to be behind the scenes with you." I winked, just because it sounded dirty.

  "The benefit of maneuvering behind your back," he said purposely changing my choice of words, "is that I don't have to justify myself to you." Apparently he did want to argue over semantics.

  "Oh, like you mean if I might not agree with your choices for my life?" I over-enunciated the words ‘my life’.

  "Something like that." His lips were tight, his jaw tighter.

  "Then I guess we’ll argue about it until one of us wins, like all couples do. I think that's the very definition of a relationship."

  I stared hard at him.

  His shoulders loosened as he chuckled. "How very quaint."

  My mouth gaped and I fluttered my eyelashes in bewilderment. "Were you not serious about negotiating terms? Was that just a thing to say to sound noble?"

  "Were you not serious when you said you took me how I am?"

  I scowled. He smirked.

  I must've won because then he said, "Yes, I was serious. Very serious. If you need transparency, I'm happy to give it to you." His teeth were clenched as he said it, but his expression seemed sincere.

  I believed him anyway.

  "Thank you. I appreciate that." Point for me.

  Scratch that. Point for us.

  "Is there anything else you desire, Ms. Lind?"

  There was so much I desired. And all that was wrapped up in on Armani suit and sitting two and a half feet away from me.

  "Along with transparency, I think honesty is a given. But I'll mention it anyway because it’s important." This was mandatory. I would not tolerate lying. "I need to know that everything is out in the open. That there are no more secrets. I don't care if you have someone tailing me and I'm unaware. I'm pretty much going to assume that for the rest of my life now, you know. But decisions that affect my life? Those things can't be kept from me. You have to tell me, or it's a deal breaker."

  He nodded before I’d finished my monologue. "Of course."

  "I mean it, Donovan. I know you're a secretive person. Things affecting me though, you have to keep completely out in the open." I sounded redundant. But it was well worth repeating.

  "I get it. Complete honesty."

  He was already looking me straight
in the eye, and I didn't want to beat a dead horse, but I had to be sure. "And there's nothing from the past? Nothing left that I don't know? Now would be the time to tell me if there is."

  He paused as if mentally going through a tally of the years, making sure that everything was checked off. It was a little unsettling that he couldn't answer right away. I would've been even more unsettled if he had.

  "Everything was in that file," he said after a few seconds. "You know everything."

  "Okay." I let out a slow breath of air that I didn't know I'd been holding. "Okay," I said again. We were really doing this.

  "Then we’ve come to an agreement?" Donovan asked with a tone that hinted of hopefulness.

  I considered but was already nodding.

  "And exclusive commitment," I added, as he got up from his chair and walked around to lean on the other side of the desk just in front of me.

  "We already have an exclusive commitment. So that goes without saying " He was semi-aroused. Hard to miss when his crotch was now at eye level, but let’s face it, I probably would have looked anyway.

  "Except we've never said it. I had no idea you weren't sleeping with anyone else." I pressed my hand along the inside of his knee. It was right there. It was impossible to resist.

  "If you had any idea what goes on inside of me, Sabrina, you would know—I'm not sleeping with anyone else. There's not going to be anyone else.”

  I pushed my hand flat, on his inner thigh and stood so we were face to face. "You know that’s what all cheaters say."

  "I guess you'll just have to trust me." His thigh muscle flexed under my palm.

  "And I guess you'll just have to… Well. You have private eyes on me." My hand drew closer to the bulge in his pants. He was now fully erect.

  Before I could reach the prize, however, he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. He sucked one long finger into his mouth. "And are those private eyes going to bother you?"

  "The private eyes won't." I shivered as he drew my next finger into his mouth along with the first. "I'd like the cameras off, though."

  "We'll only use them to make dirty movies." Three fingers in his mouth now, and I wondered if I'd be able to come just from this. "And you agree we can be public?"

  This one I'd been iffy about. On the one hand, we couldn't really have a grown-up relationship if we were sneaking around everywhere. On the other hand, his reputation was secure. Mine, not so much. I was still really new to the company. I didn't need my whole team thinking their leader was only here because she was fucking the boss.

  Though it was kind of true. Just wrong boss.

  "How about we don't announce anything?" I offered as a concession. "We can be private without being secretive. We don't need to be obvious."

  He rocked his head back and forth, considering, then drew all four of my fingers into his mouth, sucking on them hard before answering. "I suppose I can agree to that."

  Next, he licked his tongue along the surface of my palm. I shifted my weight from one hip to the other, entranced by the erotic tingles that traveled down my spine.

  I had no idea how I had the sense to remember the last thing I had on my agenda. But somehow I did. "Oh, and I'd appreciate a little more romance."

  His eyes burned into me. "And I'd appreciate a few more hand jobs."

  I nodded as his mouth closed down over mine. His kiss was teasing, nipping at my lips. He pulled my hand down to his pants, a silent command, and I began unbuckling him eagerly.

  "Darken the glass," I whispered against his lips.

  "I'll worry about the glass. You worry about my cock." He didn’t darken it.

  So much for not being obvious.

  We’d played this scenario out before, touching each other when others were nearby. The risk of being seen thrilled me to no end. My heart was pounding. I was breathy, as though it were his hands on my sex organ rather than my hands on his. Some responsible area of my brain shouted a warning to me, begging me to ignore the high I was riding and demand some privacy.

  But another part of me reasoned: it was late. Most everyone was gone. And hadn’t I just agreed to let him take care of me?

  So he’d take care of me. He'd watch out to make sure we weren't caught. And in return, I'd take care of him.

  His cock was thick like steel in my hand, still wet from his attention. It was slick enough to run down the length of him, up and down. A burst of pre-cum formed at his tip and I drew it down his shaft, pumping him the way I knew he liked. Soon he wrapped his hand in my hair and pulled my face up so he could kiss me as I stroked him. Deep, lush, possessive kisses. Kisses that told me exactly the way he imagined fucking my cunt.

  It was so fucking hot. His mouth. The low groans in the back of his throat. Knowing there could be anybody walking by behind us made me moan along with him.

  When he was close, he broke his kiss so he could ask, "Where do you want it?"

  I was prepared to swallow, but I'd let him choose. "Wherever you want to put it."

  "I want to put it on your tits."

  My knees buckled. Thank God he was holding onto me or I might've lost my balance. The image sounded so sexy.

  But the windows…

  "Trust me, Sabrina." He could read my hesitation every fucking time. "Or don't. But you have to hurry." The strain of his voice told me, even if his words hadn't, how near he was to climax.

  "Unbutton my shirt," I told him without another minute’s pause.

  He was fast, and my shirt was undone and my bra cups tugged down before I could second-guess myself. Then he put his hand over mine, taking over the action of the hand job. I knelt down as he stood, just in time. With a guttural moan, he shot his load over my bare breasts. Cum dripped along my décolletage, down over my nipples. I was covered with him.

  I peered up and grinned, feeling as satisfied as if I'd been the one to orgasm.

  He matched my grin with one of his own. After tucking himself away, he helped me to my feet. "If I offered to go get something to clean you up, would that count as romantic?"

  Considering how sex had ended often for us in the past… "I'd say that's a good start."

  The next afternoon, I received flowers by delivery. A large beautiful mixed bouquet that was impossible to miss as the deliveryman walked in through the office. Everyone was talking about them, about who sent them. At least that's what Ellen said when she brought them in to me.

  "Some are saying you have an admirer," she said. "But most are sure you must be seeing someone."

  Yeah, the secret wasn't going to last. Particularly since it seemed like Donovan didn’t care if it didn’t.

  Well, people could talk. It didn't mean they knew.

  "Are they from Kincaid?" she asked.

  Okay, she knew. And if she knew, it wouldn't be long before everyone did.

  "I guess I should open the card." I found the envelope buried in the stems and tore it open. Inside was a simple note in Donovan’s handwriting. He must have gone into the shop and ordered them in person. Would you be my date for prom (a.k.a. Weston's wedding)? –D.

  He definitely had no intention of keeping our relationship low key. If I showed up as his date to Weston's wedding, everyone in the office would know we were together.

  But, wow.

  What a way to ask. Here was the romance I’d requested. My heart was racing and I could feel the flush on my cheeks.

  Suddenly, I didn't really give a fuck who knew about us either. I would go to his prom with him. I would be his date.

  In fact, I couldn't think of anything better.

  Twelve

  "Holy shit," I exclaimed as we walked past the divider in the middle of the ballroom, leaving the ceremony portion of Elizabeth and Weston’s wedding to go to the reception. Everything about the event was incredible, from the décor to the uniforms of the wait staff. The location itself was very highbrow—the Park Hyatt’s Onyx Ballroom, a luxurious venue, steeped in glamor with floor-to-ceiling watercolor panels.

&nb
sp; "That's what I said when I saw you walk out to the car this morning," Donovan said, squeezing my hand.

  I heard him, and my chest did a silly little flutter, but I was too wrapped up in the scene in front of me. Though it had been an early evening wedding, hors d'oeuvres were the only food being served. There were probably too many guests to accommodate a full-service dinner logistically. But it was an open bar, and the food on the trays that the waiters passed seemed substantial. A live band played jazz music, and there was a table with a nice sized-gift bag for every guest to take upon their departure.

  "All this for a fake wedding?" I wouldn't even do this much for a real wedding. Of course I'd always planned on eloping somewhere, so maybe I wasn't the best judge.

  "Hush." Donovan scanned the nearby vicinity to make sure nobody had heard me. "You want to be careful what you say. Elizabeth apparently has a few family members suggesting this marriage is a sham. There's nothing like a fifty-thousand dollar wedding to say true love."

  My jaw might have dropped.

  Well, if that's what it took to access her trust fund… I assumed her inheritance was exponentially more.

  "I guess I'm amazed she could pull it off so quickly." They'd only had a handful of months to plan the whole shebang. If I ever did get married, I was definitely hiring her wedding planner to handle everything.

  And why was I thinking so much about my own possible wedding? Spending so many nights with Donovan the past week, maybe. Funny how having a relationship got me thinking long term, even when it was such a newly formed relationship.

  "It helps to have friends.” He pulled two glasses of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed and handed one to me. "The hotel belongs to the father of a friend of mine. Elizabeth knew the woman who brought in the flowers. Her wedding dress came from Mirabelle's. Mira is Hudson Pierce's sister. Hudson has done some business with Reach recently, as you know. They agreed to only one attendant each, which made the rehearsal quick and simple for everyone, especially when Weston realized Brett would be a more enthusiastic best man than I would. It all came together."

  "You mean, you made it come together." If there was one thing I was learning about Donovan, it was that he knew how to maneuver. Knew how to pull strings. No wonder he'd once had the nickname The Puppet Master.