Secrets In The Boardroom. Fiona Brand

      Zane’s gaze was focused and intent as he pulled pins out of her hair. Heart pounding, she clutched at his sleek shoulders. With slow deliberation, his mouth settled on hers. Automatically, she lifted up on her good foot and wound her arms around his neck.

      The kiss was firm, but restrained. After a night of tortured wrestling with her values, all undermined by a fevered anticipation that had kept her from sleeping, it was not what she had expected.

      Wry amusement glinted in his eyes. “I’m trying to slow things down a little.”

      “Under the circumstances, it’s a little late to worry about being PC.”

      His hands closed on her hips, pulling her in close against him. “Is that un-PC enough for you?”

      She buried her face against his throat, breathing in his scent, reassured by his tentativeness, charmed by his consideration and the touches of humor. “What are you afraid of? That you might lose control and we’ll end up having unprotected sex?”

      He reached into his pocket. Moments later he pressed a foil packet into her hand. “That won’t happen again.”

      Suddenly the murky afternoon was hot and airless.

      His mouth captured hers again, this time frankly hungry. She felt the hot glide of his palms on her chilled skin as he peeled the damp camisole up her rib cage. Obligingly, she lifted her arms so he could dispose of the garment altogether. Moments later her bra was gone.

      She braced herself against his shoulders as he unfastened her shorts and peeled them along with her panties down her legs.

      When he straightened, she unfastened and unzipped his jeans. He assisted by toeing off his trainers and stepping out of damp, tight denim.

      Lacing her fingers with his, he pulled her close. Heat flooded her at the intimacy of skin on skin.

      The sound of the wind increased, damp air stirred through the cavern, raising gooseflesh on her skin. Zane wrapped her close. “This is no place to make love.”

      She buried her face in the muscled curve of shoulder and neck and breathed in his scent. “It was good enough for Sebastien and Sophie.”

      “Almost seventy years ago.” He cupped her nape and fastened his teeth gently on the lobe of one ear, sending a bolt of heat clear through her. “I was thinking modern-day bed, silk sheets, soft music.”

      “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

      “Back in L.A.,” he said drily.

      Releasing her, he pulled her down with him onto the chaise longue, their legs tangling, the weight of him shatteringly intimate. The chaise longue was narrow and unexpectedly hard, but the discomfort was instantly forgotten as the heat of his body swamped her.

      She kissed him, wanting him with a fierceness that shook her. She could feel the heat and shape of him against her inner thigh and remembered the foil packet, which she was still holding. “I might need some help with this.”

      His teeth gleamed. He relieved her of the condom. “Leave it to me.”

      With expert movements, he sheathed himself, reminding her that while she was a novice, Zane operated at the other end of the scale. His experience and conquests were legendary. Seconds later, he moved between her legs. She felt the hot pressure of him, a moment of shaky vulnerability at what she was allowing, then the aching rush of pleasure.

      For long seconds she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Zane simply held himself inside her, his gaze locked with hers. And endless moment later he began to move. Not hurried and edged by anxiety, but a slow, tender rhythm that squeezed her chest tight, gathered her whole being. Lovemaking as opposed to the stormy few seconds they had shared in Sydney.

      Zane’s gaze locked with hers as sensation drew them together, swept her in dizzying waves, shoving her over an invisible precipice as the coiled intensity shattered.

      For long minutes Lilah floated, disconnected and content, happy to wallow in the intimacy of Zane’s solid weight, the heart-pounding knowledge that there was much more to lovemaking than she had ever imagined.

      As if he’d read her thoughts, he lifted his head and braced himself on one elbow. He framed her face with his free hand, stroking his thumb across her bottom lip. “Next time, we’re making love in a bed.”