IN BED WITH THE BOSS

“Just truth” He leaned against the car and the jut of his hips was like an open invitation.

Vivian looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not interested in being one of a long line of willing victims, Scott” she said.

He thought that victim was an unusual choice of word. “I’m not as indiscriminate as you seem to imply, Vivian,” he said softly.

“No? So what was all that? And besides, apart from me, when did you last have a lover?”

He frowned with memory, and the wry knowledge that, having admitted honesty, he could not now refuse to answer her question. “Months ago. I was seeing this… lady, but I haven’t been with her in months.” He met her eyes. He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her that she was the reason why he stopped calling Olivia. “Hardly evidence of a man who’s engaged on a mission to seduce every woman in sight-no matter what my reputation. Satisfied, Vivian?”

It was an ironic and poor choice of word. Satisfied was the last word she would use to describe herself, not when he was looking at her with those smoky dark eyes, his thumb hooked lazily into the belt of his trousers. Promising everything, promising nothing.

“This isn’t what I’m used to,” she admitted. It felt too sophisticated, too calculating. Too lacking in emotion… and trust. For him, certainly. But that didn’t stop her wanting it. The only question was, did she dare run the risk of getting hurt?

He nodded.” You want me to send flowers, is that it?”

“I don’t need flowers from you, Scott” she said.

“So are you going to play games with me, honey? Tease me a little longer? Play the dance of convention? Punish me from walking away from you? Or are you going to come over here and put us both out of our misery? I missed you, you know?” He ran his eyes over her with a proprietorial air which made her heart begin to race erratically. She wanted to run straight into his arms, but an instinct for self-preservation stopped her.

“Just what are you offering me, Scott?” she asked quietly. “Honestly?”..

“Honestly?” Her directness was almost refreshing- if it wasn’t such a bloody challenge!

“First of all, Vivian. I’m offering you your job back. We both know that you don’t really want to quit and whatever excuse you put in that email is a lie. You did it because of me, and I’m sorry. And also, I’m offering…. A relationship- if that’s what you want, and I think you do. No strings. No demands. No ties. No questions.”

“Fidelity?” she asked.

His eyes narrowed. “Always.”

“It’s been more than a week Scott. If I hadn’t sent that email, what then? Would you have come to see me, or would someone else have done?” Deep down she dreaded the answer to that question, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking anyway.

“No, Vivian, no one else would have done. It would have been another time, but I would have still ended up having exactly this conversation with you.”

“I should kick you out right here and now,” she whispered.

“But you aren’t going to. Are you?” he asked.

No, she wasn’t. But neither was she going to fall like a ripe plum from a tree straight into his arms. Even though the taut, hungry set of his body told her that this was what he expected. “Would you like to come inside?” She gave him her politest smile. “And have some tea after your….. long…. drive?”

Scott grinned. She was putting him in his place, and for a moment he enjoyed the unfamiliar sensation of subordination.

“How very nice of you.” he said drily as he fell into step beside her. “Tea instead of going out for dinner. I like the way you think, woman”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

She pushed open the back door. “You’re very welcome, but please pull your mind out of the gutter”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I want to do that.” he replied, enjoying teasing her.

But she had bent over to pull off one of her boots and he thought that he might explode when he saw the trousers tighten over the curve of her bottom. It seemed like an eternity before both boots were kicked off in a muddy heap and they tramped through into the kitchen.

“Indian?” she asked, pulling the elastic band confining her damp hair and shaking it free. “Or China?” The movement of her breasts as her hair came down entranced him and he knew that tea would choke him.

She turned to face him and he met a look of startled recognition in her eyes, a hunger which matched and fed his own.

“You don’t want tea,” he said huskily and pulled her into his arms. “Any more than you want dinner. This is what you want, isn’t it, honey?”

Of course it was-but still some small voice of sanity tried to reason with her. Pull away, she told herself. Even though he’s strong, he won’t stop you. Even though he’s aroused, he will let you go. But she didn’t pull away. “Scott” she said threadily.

“Vivian” he mocked, but his voice was thick with need as he drove his mouth down on hers with a kiss which ignited all the pent-up longing which had been eating away inside him. “Vivian,” he breathed against her mouth. “I missed you… and I can’t wait any more.”

For so strong and so powerful a man, it was an unexpected note of surrender, and surrender where it was least expected had a potent power of its own. It sealed what the kiss had started, and the slow blaze erupted into flames, setting her on fire where their bodies touched.

She caught his shoulders, her fingers sliding luxuriously against the sensual black cashmere, making a mixed moan of protest and delight as he began to unbutton the thin silk shirt which clung damply to her breasts, peeling it away so that her breasts were revealed, the golden flesh spilling over creamy lace.

“Oh, my,” he murmured as he gazed down at them, bending his head to flick a lazy tongue over where a raspberry-dark nipple protruded, hearing her tiny little gasp of pleasure as he felt it peak against his tongue.

Her hands burrowed up beneath the cashmere, feeling skin as silkily sensuous as the sweater itself, the muscles hard and firm beneath the oiled flesh. She could feel the slick rush of heat and her heart was racing out of control as his mouth whispered a slow, erotic trail of delight over her breasts.

“Scott” she managed.

“Do you forgive me, Vivian?” His breath felt warm against her skin.

It was what they called the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. She nodded. “Yes” she whispered.

He lifted his head to stare down at her. The cool, untouchable Vivian Sanchez was barely recognizable. Her eyes were huge, so glitteringly black that the emerald rims were barely visible. Two flares of rose-pink defined the high, aristocratic cheekbones and her mouth was like a crushed rose. He ran his finger along the curve of her jaw and felt her tremble in instant response and knew that he could have her here. Now.

On this table which looked as if it had been here since the beginning of time.

But he needed something to calm him, something which would not have him acting as if he had never made love to a woman before, which was exactly how he felt. With a swift, decisive movement he bent and scooped her up into his arms and her head fell back.

“What’s this?” she whispered.

“You look like some old-fashioned stable wench,” he managed unsteadily. “So I might as well play my part, too. Shall I carry you upstairs to have my wicked way with you?”

“W-wicked?”

“Very wicked. Does that suit you, Vivian?”

Oh-yes! At that moment he was the master and she the slave and she had never felt more deliciously weak. His curved smile of expectation was tinged with danger, and the glitter of his eyes indicated that he, too, was on a knife-edge of control.

In a silence broken only by the sound of their breathing, he carried her to her room. The irony of the fact that he was playing the dominant role and she the subservient one didn’t escape her-but the fantasy was impossible to resist. At that moment he did dominate -by the sheer force of his personality and his formidable sexuality, and Vivian rejoiced in the feeling that a man could make her feel like this. He was staring down into her hot face, at the hectic glitter of her eyes.

“You alright?” he shot out.

“Yeah” she replied softly.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his knee, depositing her in the center of the four-poster, and then looked down at her, a fierce and intense look of longing darkening his features.

“Am I your master?” he questioned silkily.

The fact that he had clicked right into her own fantasy made her want him even more. “Yes,” she whispered , from between parched lips.