Part 27 (1/2)

'Does it feel good?'

'Oh G.o.d, yes!' I scream as all breath leaves my lungs and I'm a.s.saulted by his greedy mouth.

'I said, quiet.' He bites at my lip, the pressure bordering on painful.

The blazing fire attacking my core cracks, fizzles and ruptures, pus.h.i.+ng me into a fevered bliss as I climax on a loud cry, his mouth capturing my screams as my mind goes blank.

I shake uncontrollably against him, but he drives on, shouting on his own explosion, his erection pulsing and jerking as he spills himself deep inside me.

Oh, good Lord, that was way hard and way fast. My head is spinning wildly. I'm in complete awe of what this man does to me. He's a b.l.o.o.d.y genius. And in his office?

'I might bring you to work every day.' he breathes against my neck as he slowly pulls out of me, letting me slide down the door. 'Are you okay?'

'Don't let go of me.' I mumble into his shoulder. I can't find my balance.

He laughs lightly, wrapping his arm around my waist to steady me. I blow my hair out of my face and find his stunning eyes in my field of vision.

I smile. 'Hi.'

'She's back.' He presses his lips to mine and picks me up, carrying me to the sofa and placing me down before he sets about tucking himself in and refastening his flies.

While he collects my bag from the floor, I rearrange my dress and flop back on the sofa, a smile tickling the corners of my lips. The contrast of his persona, from wild and demanding to tender and attentive, is a real brain burner. But I love both sides. He's just way too good.

He comes and sits next to me, pulling me in under his arm. 'I thought you could go up to the extension and start drafting some ideas.'

'You still want me to design?' I sound confused. That's okay, because I am. I thought it was all a ploy to get me into bed.

'Of course I do.'

'I thought you just wanted me for my body.' I tease, earning myself a flicked nipple.

'I want you for a lot more than your body, lady.'

He does? Like what? 'It's Sunday,' I pull away from his embrace. 'I don't work on Sundays. Anyway, I don't have any of my kit with me.'

His frown line jumps onto his forehead as he reaches over and yanks me onto his lap on a slight scowl. 'A pencil and a piece of paper?' He nips my ear playfully. 'I'm sure I can provide you with those, but I'll be deducting it from your final bill.'

Essentially, yes, a few pieces of paper and a pencil is all I need at the moment, but its Sunday. I can think of a million other things I could be doing and would prefer to do. Besides, I don't need to be sitting in the extension to start pulling ideas together.

But then I consider the possibility that he wants me out of his office. He's got his rocks off and now I'm in the way. I can't even get in my car and go. I remove myself from his lap as the door knocks.

'Come in.' he instructs, his questioning eyes resting on me.

I ignore them. The grey haired chap from the restaurant walks in with a tray and places it on the coffee table.

'Thanks, Pete.' His probing eyes stay on me.

'Sir,' He nods at Jesse and flicks a friendly smile in my direction before leaving.

'Can I have some paper?' I ask, picking the tray up and throwing my bag over my shoulder.

'Are you going to eat your breakfast?' He stands, his brow still furrowed.

'I'll take it upstairs.' I don't want to get under your feet!

'Oh, okay.' He walks over to his desk.

I try my hardest to ignore his perfect, jean clad a.r.s.e as he bends and opens a drawer, pulling out an art pad and a tin of drawing pencils. What's he got those for? They're not your average stationary essentials. He walks back over, handing them to me. I accept, tucking them under the tray and making my way to the door.

'Hey, aren't you forgetting something?'

I turn, finding his questioning look has morphed into more of a glare. 'What?' I ask. I know what, but I'm not in the mood to stroke his ego.

'Get your a.r.s.e over here.' He flicks his head.

My shoulders drop slightly. It's just easier, all round, if I give him what he wants and get out of his hair. I reach him, trying my hardest to put on a cheerful face. I know I'm failing miserably.

'Kiss me.' he orders, his hands draped casually in his jean pockets. I reach up on tiptoes and push my lips against his, ensuring I make it more than a peck. He doesn't respond. 'Kiss me like you mean it, Ava.'

He's not buying my half-hearted attempt to satisfy him. I sigh. I've got a tray in my hands, my bag over my shoulder and a pad and pencil buried under the tray. This is proving to be tricky, especially when he's not a.s.sisting. I place the tray and drawing equipment on his desk and delve my hands into his hair, pulling his face down to mine. It takes a nanosecond for him to respond. Once our lips meet, he takes me completely, his arms snaking around my waist as he bends slightly to accommodate our height difference. I don't want to enjoy it, but I do a way too much.

'Better,' he says against my lips. 'Never hold out on me, Ava.' He releases me, leaving me feeling slightly dizzy and disorientated. Someone knocks on the door. 'Go.' He nods at the door.

I collect my things and leave without a word. I've got a proper sulk on. I'm on stupidly dangerous ground here, and I know it. This man has broken heart written all over him.

I open the office door and find Big John waiting for me. He nods, taking up position beside me to escort me upstairs.

'I know where I'm going, John.' I offer. He doesn't have to flank me all of the way.

'S'all good, girl.' he rumbles, continuing his long strides besides me to the stairs.

When we reach the stained gla.s.s window at the bottom of the stairs to the third floor, I glance up the wide staircase. At the top, there's a set of wooden doors with pretty circle symbols calved into the wood. They're closed and quite intimidating.

What's up there? It could be a function room. I'm distracted from the imposing vastness of wood when I hear a door open. I look over the landing, seeing a man walking out of a guest suite doing his flies up. He looks up, catching me staring. My face flames as I look at John, who's eyeing up the guy, shaking his head menacingly. A wave of worry washes over the guests face, and I scuttle off through the archway that leads to the extension to try and escape the embarra.s.sing situation. John did not look impressed. Why men think it's acceptable to exit toilets and hotel rooms still arranging themselves is beyond me.

I let myself into the furthest room. With the lack of furniture, I slide down the wall to my b.u.m.

John pokes his head around the door. 'Ring Jesse if you need anything.' he grunts.

'I can go find him.'

'No, ring Jesse.' he affirms, closing the door.

So, if I need the toilet, have I got to ring Jesse then? I should have stayed at home.

Gazing around the sh.e.l.l of a room, I start nibbling at the salmon bagel, which I reluctantly admit is lovely. I try to recall my specification. What did he say? Oh, yes a sensual, stimulating and invigorating. It's not my normal brief, but I can work with it. I pick up the pad, slide a pencil out of the tin and begin sketching large, lavish beds and sumptuous window dressings. Losing myself in some sketching is the perfect way to divert my mind from the more troubling thoughts that are currently swamping my poor brain.

A few hours later, my a.r.s.e is dead and I have a rough draft of an amazing bedroom. I flick the pencil over the paper, shading and blending here and there. Okay, now that's sensual. He said a big bed was essential, and the huge four-poster, positioned in the middle of the room, screams luxury and sensuality. I study the picture, blus.h.i.+ng at my own work. Jesus, it's almost erotic. Where has that come from? Maybe it's all the incredible s.e.x I've been having. The bed dominating the room is a replica of one that I spotted at a reclamation yard a few months ago. With ma.s.sive, chunky, wooden posts and a lattice style canopy, it'll look amazing with gold silk dressing it. I don't know what to put on the walls because Jesse didn't elaborate further than large, wooden wall hangings a probably something resembling what I saw in the other suite when Jesse cornered me.

My line of thought is interrupted when the door opens and I'm presented with Sarah's pouty face. I inwardly groan. The woman is everywhere a everywhere Jesse is.