Landon (Swanson Court Book 4) Read online

  Chapter 7

  I’m not naturally inclined to patience, but it’s a habit I’ve learned, for my business and for my life. When you’ve done your homework and put all the pieces in place, all you can do is wait.

  And now I’m waiting.

  At the head of the conference table in my office, I listen as Alex argues with two other lawyers from our legal department about the finer points of the agreement we have with Evans Sinclair. I let them hash it out. It’s what I pay them for.

  “We’ve got him tied up. If he tries to slander Landon or the company, we’ll have him in court before the end of the day.”

  “If he really wants to slander us, he’ll have succeeded, whether or not we tie him up in litigation.”

  “And he’ll pay through the nose for that—”

  “He’s rich.”

  “Not nearly rich enough.”

  I glance at my watch and rise to my feet. “Gentlemen, it’s time you took this discussion to your own offices.”

  They gather their papers. Alex is the last to leave. “I really wouldn’t worry about Evans Sinclair,” he says.

  “I’m not worried.” Evans is like a dissatisfied gnat, and once I focus on him, the buzzing will stop. For now, he is harmless. I return to my seat and study the papers in front of me, a few contracts, schedules, correspondence…most of which I already know by heart.

  Alex leaves. In a few moments, Rachel will be here. Jessica has offered her the feature on the Gold Dust, and it entails a trip to San Francisco.

  With me.

  I rise from my seat and walk toward the door, then stop and return to the conference table. I remove my jacket and drape it on my chair, and then I wait.

  I hear my fingers tapping on the glass surface and realize I’m nervous.

  It makes no sense. She’s just one woman.

  A woman I can’t stop thinking about.

  A woman I’m about to offer a very indecent proposition.

  Because of how much I want her.

  The door opens, and she walks in, clearly hesitant. She’s dressed in a pencil skirt that shows off the lush curves of her hips and a silky blouse that makes me want to run my fingers over the soft material. I force a damper on my lust and smile in her direction.

  “Come in, Rachel.”

  At my words, she looks like she will turn around and walk away, as far away as possible from me, but she comes forward, lowering herself gingerly into the seat I pull out for her. My fingers brush against her shoulders and there’s that buzz again. I pull in a breath and go over to my chair, waiting as Tony sets up a slideshow.

  I leave most of the talking to him. I assume Jessica would have explained the basics of a Gilt Travel feature on the Gold Dust to Rachel. Now, Tony does the rest. He describes the project, and she takes notes, directing her inquiries at him. Her questions are sharp and insightful, and I have no doubt she will approach the feature from a very creative angle.

  At the end of the presentation, she looks from the screen to me, and for a moment, our eyes hold. I don’t want to look away.

  “Is that all?” I ask Tony, still looking at her.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. You can leave us now.” I turn a grateful smile in his direction. “Ms. Foster will communicate any requests for additional information or clarification.”

  With a nod, he leaves, and Rachel starts to rise from her chair. “I should be going.”

  No way.

  I touch her arm. “No, don’t.” My voice is firm, but inside, it feels like a plea. I shift my chair close to hers so we’re facing each other. “We should talk.”

  Her eyes flash. “I know what you’re doing.” There’s hurt and accusation in her voice, and I’d feel contrite or ashamed if I still didn’t blame her for lying to me. “You engineered this assignment so you can get me to spend time with you. Well, guess what? This time, you’re not going to get what you want. You’re wasting your time. I’m not going to let you get away with manipulating my job just so you can fuck me.”

  Her lips quiver on the last few words, reminding me just how much I want to fuck her. I hit a button on my desk and the frosted glass walls of my office darken almost to black, giving us even more privacy.

  “Let’s see,” I say softly, “I generously agreed to a request your boss made a long time ago. How is that manipulating your job?”

  It’s bull, and she knows it. I am using her job to get close to her.

  Her lips curl. “And the article about Insomnia?”

  “I brought you there to give you a chance to tell me the truth, which you didn’t take, for whatever reason.”

  “Maybe because I didn’t want to,” she snaps. “Maybe because I was perfectly fine with you thinking I was a hooker. Maybe because I had no intention of ever seeing you again.”

  I lean closer to her. The quivering of her lips intensifies. Her skin flushes. I can feel the arousal coming off her in waves, but I don’t feel any triumph, not yet. I want so much more than arousal. I want capitulation.

  My voice is a low murmur. “Quit lying to yourself.”

  Her chest rises, and her breath rushes out. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  I ignore the lie. “Tell me the truth, Rachel,” I challenge in a low voice. “What do you want?”

  She doesn’t reply.

  I smile, only a little. “You see, I know what I want. I want you. I didn’t ask Jessica Layner to give you the feature, but I hoped she would, especially after I told her I was a fan of your work. I’ll be in San Francisco for a week, and I want you there with me. I want to fuck you every day we’re there. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since that night at my hotel. I want to make you come until you beg me to stop, and I know you want the same thing.”

  She makes a sound in her throat, but I don’t take my eyes off hers.

  “But if you’d prefer not to…” I shrug and back away from her. “Then we won’t see each other in San Francisco. You’ll do your work, return to New York, and probably never see me again. Is that what you want?”

  Her chest is rising and falling. Her eyes are glazed. Her arousal in like a drug to me. I want to cover her lips with mine, to taste the desire that so closely reflects my own, but I can wait a little longer—though only a little.

  “What do you want?” I ask again.

  Her eyes dip to my mouth, and her lips part. I hold back only for a moment then I’m closing in, unable to wait any more. I cover her mouth with mine, tasting the heat and sweetness that is her, drowning in a nectar that’s more addictive than anything I’ve ever tasted.

  It takes all my willpower to pull away, to tear my mouth from hers. She moans, her eyes unfocused as they roam over my face.

  “This is what you want,” I say, my calmness belying the raging arousal in my blood, the hardness of desire straining in my pants. I want her so badly. I want to devour every inch of her.

  “Your nipples are hard, Rachel,” I tell her, brushing my thumb over one hardened nub peeking through her silky blouse. She lets out a soft moan and I continue. “Between your legs, you’re wet and aching for me, aren’t you?” I hold her gaze, watching desire cloud her eyes. “I know you want me to fuck you, right here, in this office, on the floor, on my desk, against the wall—anywhere. You wouldn’t care. You just want me inside you, right now.”

  She reaches for me, pulling my face to hers. Triumph merges with desire and I claim her with a hunger that verges on madness. I rise from my chair, still kissing her as I lift her off the ground, one hand pushing up her skirt to expose creamy thighs and perfectly curved hips. She wraps her legs around me, and I move toward my desk, carrying her.

  She tastes like desire and heat, and I can’t get enough. I find her breasts through the material of her blouse, letting the soft weight fill my hands. Heaven. Her hands explore my body, almost frenzied. She loosens my tie and tosses it away then starts on my buttons.

  I take her hands, needing her to slow down. I need this, but not s
o fast. I lower my head to her breast, and through her shirt, I take one nipple between my teeth.

  She lets out a groan and pulls her hands from mine, arching and lifting her breasts closer to my mouth. Her fingers thread in my hair, not even close to gentle. I seize her lips again, plunging my tongue deep into her mouth, and push her skirt up around her waist at the same time.

  She spreads her legs for me, and my fingers find her clit through the damp lace of her panties. I stroke her gently and she cries out.

  I can’t get enough of her glazed eyes. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”

  “Yes.” Her voice is hoarse. Her hips move in time to my fingers, rubbing shamelessly against my touch.

  Capitulation.

  With a triumphant smile, I push her panties aside and slide my fingers inside her. She makes a strangled sound and spreads her legs wider, giving me a wide view of her perfection. I drop to my knees, wanting more than anything to taste that sweetness.

  She shudders when my tongue touches her. Impatient with her underwear, I rip it away and dive deep into her moist heat, tasting every inch as she squirms and moans on my desk.

  “Landon.” My name is like heaven on her lips. “Oh God, Landon.”

  I join my fingers to my tongue, bringing her closer and closer to the brink. Her hips undulate with a mad urgency, her entire body trembling as she screams my name, begging for more. I plunge my fingers deeper and find the tiny mass of nerves inside her, stroking her there and watching in satisfaction as she explodes in a rocking orgasm.

  I don’t let her catch her breath before I rise and take her face in my hands. “I love the way you taste, Rachel.” I kiss her gently, sucking on her full bottom lip. “I want to taste every inch of you. Tell me you’ll come with me.”

  She doesn’t reply, and I kiss her again. Her body is soft and pliant against mine. Her nipples are poking through her blouse. I rip the fabric open, pulling down her bra to free her beautiful breasts. I take a swollen nipple in my mouth, and a wordless cry escapes her lips.

  Aching to be inside her, I free my straining erection, releasing her long enough to reach for the condoms I placed in my desk this morning, just in case. I don’t miss the way her eyes devour my cock. I don’t miss the hunger in those green depths.

  Baby, I feel it too.

  I roll on the condom, my eyes on her face.

  “I want to fuck you without one of these,” I tell her, wanting more than anything to feel her flesh against mine. “Will you let me once I prove I’m clean?” She nods, and I touch the tip of my cock to her quivering entrance. “Tell me you’ll come with me to San Francisco.”

  Her hips move, urging me to slide inside her heat. “Yes.” Her voice is a whisper. “Yes.”

  I grip her waist, my fingers digging into her soft skin. I draw her forward and push into her at the same time.

  She’s tight, hot, and sweet. My breath leaves me as her exquisite sweetness envelopes me. I could never ever get enough of this.

  Her body pulses around me, tightening, squeezing. It takes me a moment to realize she’s coming again. I start to move, fucking her as her body comes apart. I lower my mouth to her breast and suck hard on one swollen nipple.

  The spasms of her body pass, and she lifts her hands to my shoulders, gripping me tightly as I move inside her. I can’t stop looking at her. Her hair, her eyes, her parted lips, the flush in her skin…everything about her turns me on. I could do this forever and not get tired.

  When she climaxes again, her body tightens around my cock, and my control slips. I plunge into her, wild in my need for her. A hoarse sound tears from my throat as I slam into her one last time and come so hard, I feel like I’ll explode.

  When I catch my breath, I’m holding her close, and her face is buried in my neck. Slowly, I pull out of her, feeling her body tremble. I want to kiss her again. I want to hold her close until she falls asleep in my arms.

  Instead, I adjust her skirt, smoothing it over her hips. Her panties, I put in my pocket. I fix her bra, but a couple of buttons are missing from her blouse, and there’s nothing I can do about that at the moment.

  Leaving her for a moment, I discard the condom and fix my clothes. She’s still on the desk, looking languid with sex, but also a little pissed. I take her arms and gently pull her to her feet. “Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s get you decent.”

  “Unless you have a blouse exactly like mine somewhere in this office, I don’t see how you can manage that.”

  The primness in her tone amuses me. Smoothing a finger over the fabric, I meet her eyes and give an unapologetic smile. “I doubt a blouse like that would look as good on me as it did on you.”

  She doesn’t reply, and I hit a button on my desk.

  “Mr. Court?” Tony says through the speakers.

  “I’m going out. Reschedule the Clifton meeting.” I end the conversation and usher Rachel out of the office through a rear door. There’s a small waiting room then stairs leading up to the apartment I use when I’m too swamped with work to go back to my apartment at the Swanson Court.

  Rachel glances from the stairs to my face. “Don’t tell me you have an apartment here as well.”

  I lead her up. “I do.”

  “How many apartments do you have?”

  “A few.” I give her a reassuring smile. “The apartment at the hotel belongs to my family, and I spent some of my childhood there. This is where I mostly live these days, especially when I’m busy with work.”

  She follows me inside, looking around. The apartment is much smaller than the one at the Swanson Court, but it works for me.

  “This is convenient,” she says, lips pursed. “Every workaholic’s dream. Why leave work when you can live at work?”

  I hold her gaze. “One more dig at me, and I’m going to have to fuck you again just to keep your mouth otherwise occupied.” I ignore her scandalized expression. “Make yourself comfortable. There’re drinks in the fridge, over there.” I show her. “I’ll be right back.”

  In my bedroom, I pause in front of the closet, surprised by how calm I am. I can still hear Rachel’s moans in the back of my head. I want her again, almost as if I haven’t just made love to her. Now that I know I’ll have her for a week, I’m eager to use that time to quench this wild desire that’s slowly driving me insane.

  I retrieve a sweater from the closet. It’s green, like her eyes. I emerge from the bedroom and find her in the kitchen drinking from a bottle of sparkling water.

  I hand her the sweater. “You can wear this.”

  She accepts it then shrugs off her ruined blouse. My eyes linger on her bare skin, the creamy rise of her breasts, but only for a moment before she pulls the sweater on.

  I fold the blouse and hand it back to her. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me,” I say, referring to the sweater.

  She snorts. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  I can’t help smiling. “I love it when you pay me compliments.”

  She shrugs, resistant to my teasing. “I was only making an observation.”

  “I love your complimentary observations.”

  She chuckles. Not so resistant after all. Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, there’s a startling vulnerability in their depths.

  “So, what now?”

  I reach out and curl a strand of her silky hair around my finger. The mixture of red and gold is entrancing. “Now that there’s no question of how good we are together, I hope you’ll finally agree to spend more time with me.”

  “You mean sex.”

  “Lots of it.”

  She shakes her head. “Actually, I meant, what happens right now?”

  I chuckle and release her hair. “Now, I take you home.”

  She follows me down to one of the underground parking floors and to my Jaguar. I don’t drive often, but when I do, I love a beautiful car. I drive through the busy streets, stopping in front of her four-story walk-up. There’s something I need to say to her, and I spil
l it out before I change my mind.

  “About San Francisco,” I start. “I want us to go together. I want you to stay with me, spend the whole time with me when you’re not working. But, if that’s not what you want, you don’t have to do it because of what happened today.”

  She nods slowly. “What happens after it’s over? When we come back?”

  I don’t know. I have made no plans beyond that one week, but when I recall the sight of her spread out on my desk, I have a feeling a week will not be nearly enough.

  “What do you want to happen?”

  My question makes her pause, as if it’s not what she was expecting. “I don’t want a relationship,” she says firmly. “This is just sex. I don’t want to pretend it’s anything more.”

  I’ve never wanted a romantic relationship either, so I don’t expect the words to sting so much, but they do.

  “I also want exclusivity,” she continues. “For as long as it lasts.”

  I haven’t even thought about another woman since I touched her. I shrug. “Not a problem.”

  She looks at me, and there’s that vulnerability in her eyes again. I’m still smarting from being rejected for a relationship, which is comical, but now I want to ask her if everything is all right.

  Her next words are decisive. “And it only lasts as long as we’re in San Francisco.”

  “A week.” I can almost hear a door close on something ephemeral I haven’t quite grasped yet. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right.” The wide neck of my sweater has fallen over one of her shoulders, exposing the smooth curve. I have an incredible urge to place my lips on her skin, to kiss her with tenderness and extreme care, to love, and not to bruise. I put a damper on those thoughts and glance at my watch. “Why don’t you go up and change? I’ll take you back to your office.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s almost five. I’m done for the day.”

  She doesn’t make any move to leave the car, and I raise an eyebrow. “So, are you going to invite me up?”

  She smirks. “Don’t push your luck. I don’t even like you.”

  For now. She will like me. I’ll make sure of that.