Married To The Boss Part 9

"R.J.?".

She'd gone still, but he wrote it off as expectant antic.i.p.ation. If she was half as aroused as he was, he could understand her inability to move. He felt clumsy in his urgency to become part of her. He forced another finger deep and swallowed her groan with a long, devouring kiss.

There was a buzzing in his ears, a red haze blotting out the shadows in the room. Unable to wait a second more, he turned and lowered Dana to the mattress. Her legs hung over the side and she started to sit up, but he came down over her, between her widespread thighs. He kissed her quiet, until her arms were wrapped around his neck and her thighs moved restlessly alongside his.

"Don't move," he muttered, then levered himself up enough to shove the gown above her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He couldn't see her in the darkness, and it frustrated him, but he was too close to the edge to start fumbling with the lights. He unzipped his pants and stripped them off, then hurriedly slid on a condom. The shaking in his hands enraged him, but thankfully it was too dark for her to see.

The welcoming softness of her body greeted him as he lowered his weight onto her. He almost growled at the exquisite sensation. In the back of his mind, he kept thinking, Is this really Dana? The reality of being with her like this was almost more than he could take. He'd always seen Dana as s.e.xless, female efficiency in a suit But the heat of her exposed body, the frantic beating of her heart and the soft cus.h.i.+on of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath his chest proved she was very capable of indulging in even the most heated encounters. He'd been duped by her-and now he was learning the sweet truth.

Carefully he parted her with his fingers, struggling to go slowly, despite the urgency surging through him. He guided himself just inside, grinding his teeth at her heat, at her wetness as she closed around the very tip of him. Dana didn't move, didn't even breathe. He pressed forward with an effort, going a little deeper. She felt snug, unbearably so, tight enough to completely shatter his control.

With a rough curse he wrapped one arm around her trim hips, lifted her high and drove into her. He was met with natural resistance for a split second before her body opened to his and he sank deep with a raw groan of indescribable pleasure.

He had a single moment to absorb the pleasure of having his length wrapped tightly in moist heat, then Dana arched so violently she almost bucked him off. Her soft, nearly breathless gasp rang in his ears, and he realized several things at once.

Dana was no longer holding him tight. Her hands were pressed hard against his chest in an effort to shove him away. He didn't move.

Her breaths came in short, harsh pants, as if she were experiencing discomfort. Or worse. And he knew why.

She'd been a virgin.

Never in his life had he felt a woman so acutely. He'd been s.e.xually active since his mid teens, but the tightness he felt now, squeezing him, nearly turning his mind to mush, was unique. He strained to hold himself perfectly still while his mind tried to a.s.similate all the facts. Her shallow, rapid breaths fanned his throat. Her small hands were hot against his chest. Her soft thighs encased his hips. And her body held him as if she'd never let him go.

"Dana?"

Several seconds pa.s.sed in silence. He heard her swallow. "I... I'm sorry."

He couldn't begin to understand what she was apologizing for. "You're a virgin?"

She moved, s.h.i.+fting beneath him, and instinctively he used his hips to pin her down again, grinding into her softness in reaction.

"R.J...." She moved again, lifting her legs so that her feet pressed flat against the mattress.

The position brought him deeper still, and his gut tightened painfully. He didn't know if she was trying to escape him or seduce him. All he knew for certain was that he was so deep, and the pleasure so keen, he was ready to explode.

His arms wrapped snug around her, his face pressed into her neck, he thrust hard, two times, three. He growled like a savage, thoroughly shattered, drained of all rational thought, his body balanced on an edge of pleasure so keen he'd never known anything like it.

Afterward he couldn't seem to do more than breathe-and even that required strenuous effort. They were still hanging half over the bed, Dana's legs now limp beside his. When they started to slip to the floor, he hefted himself onto his back beside her with a groan.

Like a shot, Dana was off the bed.

R.J., trying to regain normal breathing, watched as she hustled into the bathroom, her white nightgown a bright beacon as she dashed across the dark room.

He wanted to call her back, but he remained silent, listening to water run in the bathroom, trying to imagine what she was thinking while his heartbeat gradually slowed and his brain cleared of the fog that had taken over rational thought.

She hadn't found a bit of pleasure.

No, that wasn't true. She'd been every bit as turned on as he before he'd lost control and more or less attacked her. Shame washed over him. d.a.m.n, he'd been like a rutting animal.

He squeezed his eyes shut and silently called himself ten times a fool. h.e.l.l, he'd wanted to explore her entire silken body, yet he'd spent less than ten minutes on that particular pleasure, and had touched her only in the ways necessary to have her, without all the tenderness and detail he knew women wanted and needed.

He'd wanted to taste her everywhere, yet he'd barely kissed her, and certainly not in the ways and places he'd intended. She'd discovered the start of pleasure, the tip of the iceberg, but not the explosive conclusion.

And once he'd gotten inside her, he'd lost all claim to control.

It had never happened to him before and made no sense. She was Dana, for G.o.d's sake, not some femme fatale who'd deliberately seduced him. She'd done no more than stand there in her prim gown with her hair braided like a schoolgirl's, and he'd been as aroused as if he'd been indulging in hours of fore-play.

h.e.l.l, even when he had indulged in hours of foreplay, he'd never been that turned on.

Dropping an arm over bis eyes, he groaned. There was still a pleasant buzz in his body, a s.e.xual repletion that echoed. His muscles felt like mush.

And his bride was in the bathroom, biding, maybe crying.

He couldn't stand it. He forced himself to his feet and staggered to the closed door. "Dana?"

The water shut off. Silence throbbed in the dark bedroom.

"Dana?" he repeated.

"Yes?"

Her voice was too high, too light. Very forced. He moaned low in his throat, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He felt like a defiler of innocents, and he didn't like the feeling at all. He hadn't lost control like mat...ever. Spreading one hand on the wall, he propped himself up, still unsure of his shaky legs. "Honey, are you all right?"

A short, twittering laugh. "Yes, yes, of course. I'm fine."

His free hand curled into a fist, and his eyes narrowed in speculation. He wanted to see her, to judge for himself. She'd been in the bathroom a long time. "What are you doing in there?"

"Oh, nothing. Tidying up."

Tidying up what? Was she torturing her hair back into that twist? Or braiding it again? Surely it didn't take this long.

Another thought occurred to him, making him scowl. Her body had been so incredibly tight, had he hurt her? Would she tell him if he had? The answer to that was a resounding no. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never heard Dana complain, so he knew d.a.m.n good and well she wouldn't start now, and certainly not over this.

R.J. rubbed his face and leaned against the wall beside the door, waiting. He liked to think he would have been more gentle if he'd known she was a virgin, but he couldn't force himself into that lie. He'd known. Not right away, of course, but the second he'd gotten inside her, realization had walloped him with the force of a sledgehammer. It made sense in so many ways. She'd always been reserved, dedicated to work. He'd never heard a single rumor of her dating.

But she was nearly thirty years old, and very, very special; caring, comforting, intelligent. Surely some man somewhere had appreciated those qualities and given it his best shot?

R.J. shook his head in wonder, because he'd known her forever and he'd never even considered such a thing himself. He and Dana had a special relations.h.i.+p, and not once had he thought of risking that by introducing a s.e.xual involvement. He could have s.e.x with other women, but what he had with Dana couldn't be found anywhere else.

He turned his head and stared toward the closed bathroom door. d.a.m.n, but he'd blundered badly. The knowledge of being the first, the only one, obliterated everything else.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and he clutched the doork.n.o.b, rattling it once. He wasn't surprised to find it was locked. "Come on out, Dana. I want to talk to you."

Another lengthy silence, then finally, "I, uh, I'll be out in a bit. Why don't you go on to bed? You've had a long day."

He'd had a long day?

"We can talk in the morning," she added, sounding desperate.

R.J. started to insist, then caught himself. At this moment she wasn't his secretary, and he wasn't her boss. She was his wife, and due some courtesy, belated as it might be.

He couldn't really blame her for not wanting to talk to him. And he wasn't at all certain that now was the best time, anyway. She wanted to be alone.

h.e.l.l, he had wanted to retreat to his room, had planned to do just that. He'd wanted to maintain his privacy and stay detached. Now she obviously wanted the same thing. Here was his opportunity, yet he felt oddly reluctant to leave her this way.

"Dana, I think we should-"

The water came back on, drowning out his words. He didn't feel like shouting to be heard, d.a.m.n it. So he'd goofed? He could explain things to her in the morning. He'd convince her he was a good lover and promise he'd make certain she found her own satisfaction next time. He'd tell her that she'd taken him by complete and utter surprise.

And he'd make d.a.m.n sure she explained a few things, as well. Like how the h.e.l.l an attractive twenty-nine-year-old woman had remained a virgin.

They could both use a good night's sleep to regroup. Then they'd talk, just as she suggested.

R.J. turned away, but he was followed by a feeling of foreboding. He glanced at the bed as he pa.s.sed it, noticing how a shaft of moonlight danced just beyond the reach of the mattress, spreading out over the floor.

He'd made love to Dana, but she hadn't enjoyed it. He'd touched her intimately, yet he hadn't seen so much as that glimpse of an ankle he'd imagined earlier.

He'd had s.e.x with his wife, but he hadn't even had the courtesy to undress her. Her nightgown had been bunched up under her arms, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s had remained covered.

His eyes squeezed shut in disgust and self-loathing. He'd taken his wife with all the finesse and consideration of a sailor on one-day sh.o.r.e leave.

But he had seen her hair loose, he reminded himself, and that alone was enough to keep him tossing and turning for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Dana had never been accused of being a coward, but she felt very cowardly at the moment She wanted nothing more than to stay in her room and hide all day, yet she'd heard R.J. go downstairs some time ago. He'd be wondering where she was, thinking he'd cowed her with his detached, emotionless brand of s.e.x.

What had she been thinking when she'd made that horrendous bargain? She wasn't a woman who could indulge in meaningless s.e.x. Especially not when it was with a man she'd loved for so many years.

She sat at her dressing table and brushed her hair, then expertly twisted it up at the back of her head. A few pins, and she felt more like herself.

Except that she had a hickey on her neck.

She stared at the small mark with appalled fascination, remembering R.J.'s mouth there, the heat of it, the nip of his teeth. He'd made a low, guttural sound of intense satisfaction as he'd come inside her, his whole body rigid, shaking, hot. She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut.

Dana Dillinger, plain Jane extraordinaire, had a hickey from the most eligible bachelor in Austin, Texas!

She almost giggled. Then she remembered her name wasn't Dillinger anymore, and she groaned.

Her whole body bore signs of his l.u.s.t-l.u.s.t for her. Though they'd been covered by her nightgown, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were tender from bis hands and mouth and the press of his heavy chest after he'd climaxed. The insides of her thighs felt achy from the strain of opening wide for him, gripping him, and later, from trying to push away from him.

He hadn't hurt her, not really. In fact, for the most part she'd felt a pleasure beyond any she'd ever imagined. But the depth of his response had left her shaken.

Because it had only been physical for him.

Last night, all pretenses of the civilized businessman had vanished, replaced with ruthless determination and unrestrained desire. He'd shown no inhibitions, no reserve. She knew R.J. well enough to understand he could be that way, but she hadn't expected him to be that way with her.

And she knew she couldn't deal with it.

If he'd been suave and practiced and gentle, she could have held back her emotions and taken what he offered. But R.J. had been sensually intrusive, touching her in ways she hadn't been prepared for, ways that should have been about love, not just s.e.x.

Knowing she'd had only part of him had left her feeling more alone than ever.

She shook her head at her fanciful, old-fas.h.i.+oned conclusions. No, it would be better if they went back to his original plan. Last night as she'd lain in her new bed, painfully aware of R.J. sleeping only a short distance away, she considered everything with new eyes. She loved R.J. enough to do anything in her power to help repair his reputation-anything except pretend she didn't love him while they were intimately joined. That was asking too much.

She couldn't feign an emotionless, loveless physical attraction that would allow them to sleep together. It simply wasn't in her.

And he hadn't even wanted her to. She'd been the one to insist.

Well, he'd be relieved when he found out she'd changed her mind.

Dressed in comfortable beige drawstring cotton slacks and a matching long-sleeved tunic, she left the seclusion of her room.

The house was eerily silent as she made her way downstairs. Surprisingly, the air conditioner wasn't on; instead, R.J. had opened all the windows. In mid-November, the air was cooler, refres.h.i.+ngly so, and she welcomed the breeze that lifted the curtains and filled the house with the scents of the flowers outdoors.

Hoping for coffee to clear the cobwebs, she found her way to the kitchen, glancing at the house as she went. It was cozy and well decorated, and it looked like R.J. If he'd had it done by an interior designer, she was certain he'd had a lot of input.

Smiling, she stepped into the kitchen-and stopped dead.

R.J. stood there sipping steaming coffee from a bright red mug. He was leaning against the counter next to the coffeemaker, ankles crossed, pose negligent.

He was wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans.

Her breath caught and held. Her heartbeat doubled.

R.J. looked up at her entrance, the coffee mug almost to his mouth, and his hazel eyes pinned her, gleaming with intent. "Good morning."

Though she didn't intend it to, her gaze moved over him. G.o.d, he was incredibly gorgeous, all hard bone and smooth muscle and visible strength. His dark hair was still damp from his shower, combed back from his forehead so that his angular face seemed more p.r.o.nounced, more male than ever. His jaw was freshly shaved, and beneath the strong smell of coffee she could detect a spicy cologne. Her skin tingled with awareness.

He had one hand braced on the counter at his hip, and the other held the mug, which he used to salute her. Still she stared. His chest was broad, and she remembered feeling the crisp hair and hard muscle beneath her open palms last night. She wondered what it might have felt like on her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tantalizing her nipples.

A rush of heat rose inside her and quickly spread outward until she knew she was blus.h.i.+ng furiously.

R.J. chuckled. "Cat got your tongue this morning?"

She forced her gaze away from her fascinated study of his hard abdomen and reached for the empty mug he'd left sitting on the counter. The movement brought her close to him, and she did her best not to react to his scent, to his warmth, which she could feel enveloping her. "Good morning, R.J."

She turned her back to pour the coffee-a tactical error. R.J.'s mug clattered down beside her own, and his arms came around her from behind, his hands flattening on the counter, caging her in. She stiffened, the coffee carafe clutched tightly in her hand.

He nuzzled her nape. "Mmm. I've been waiting down here for you, hoping you weren't a slugabed."