His lips move against mine with the force of a wild hurricane flying through the skies. It’s raw and uncontrolled—a series of desperate movements that have my whole body burning.

His strong hands grasp mine and pin them above my head. Once again, he has me at his mercy, and I’m nothing but a victim as his desire attacks mine in the most brutal way.

Except I like it.

God, as our lips dance against each other’s and my heart pounds beneath him, I like it.

Somehow, I manage to pull away, and I breathe in deeply. “Do you always kiss people you could potentially hire?”

“Only the ones I don’t like,” he retorts.

Fucking smartass.

His lips fall back onto mine as soon as the final word has left his body, and I’m helpless once again.

The man has the mouth of the devil, and he tastes exactly like sin.

I manage to wrench my wrists from his grip and push him away. I step to the side—well, stagger, whatever—and touch my thumb to my lower lip. I can feel it’s swollen from him, and my chin is raw from the stubble that coats his. “You should leave. Now.”

“I’ve heard a variation of those words before.”

“I mean it. Leave. Now.” My heart is thundering against my ribs, the pounding of my blood so intense that I can hear it thrumming in my ears almost deafening. My clit is aching like a motherfucker and my pussy is practically screaming at me that I’m a stupid bitch, but no.

No damn way is it going that far again.

No horizontal tango, no wall waltz, and definitely no bending over a table sex.

Carter stares at me for a long moment, and I can’t help but glance down. His erection is straining against his black pants. My tongue flicks out and sweeps across my lips, wetting them. His gaze darkens as he registers the movement.

He takes three slow, calculated steps toward me. My lungs burn with the harsh breath I take, and I keep my gaze trained on him in warning.

No more kissing.

That is not professional at all.

He reaches onto my desk and takes the file containing his designs and tucks it under his arm. Without another word, he walks across my office, side-stepping a half-fallen pile of design magazines. Tension hands heavy in the air as he moves for the door handle and pushes it down.

“If you need to discuss anything, my card is in there. It has my direct number on it,” I say quietly, my hand now clasping my throat. “If I don’t answer, leave a message. I try to get back to everyone within an hour.”

He nods his head sharply. “You’ll have an answer within twenty-four hours, Ms. Donnelly, either way.”

“Thank you. Good night, Mr. Hughes.”

He turns his face to me, his eyes glinting with something indiscernible. “Good night, Ms. Donnelly.”

Silence reigns as he closes the door behind him, and I can’t help but think that I’ve just sealed my fate.

I can only think one thing.

My mother is going to kill me.

Chapter Seven

My office door swings open and my mother steps through the empty space, standing formidably tall. A frown mars her usually wrinkleless forehead, and she zeroes in on me instantly. “Bee!”

“What did I do now?”

She reaches behind her and slams my door with such a force that it bounces open before settling against the frame. She gives it one last shove and it clicks shut. “I was just on the phone with Carter Hughes.”

Oh sweet fuck. Here we go.

I may as well say goodbye to my ovaries because I think I’m about to shit them out.

“Everything okay?” I ask nonchalantly.

“Do I sound like everything is okay?” she retorts sharply.

I get the feeling that’s a rhetorical question.

“He informed me you were incredibly rude during your meeting yesterday.” Mom smacks her lips together. “Care to explain yourself?”

“He’s a very frustrating man,” I answer carefully. “And as for rudeness, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“Bee!” Mom snaps. “You can’t be rude to a potential client like him!”

“Then he shouldn’t be rude to me!”

“Bee…”

“No, Mom.” I shut down the website I was on and focus on her fully. “We have a way of business—one that we both decided on. He wanted me to drop off the designs and I refused. I had rescheduled appointments I needed to be at. I told him to come here, and when he did, he was like a petulant child.” And I was like a dog with a bone, but I’m hardly going to mention that.

Mom sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Either way, he’s requested you meet him at six p.m. at his restaurant. I told him you’d be there.”

I wrinkle my nose. “How do you know I don’t have other plans?”

“Do you?”

I’m not sure my mother will count a movie night with Charley as ‘other plans.’ “Yes, actually.”

“A date?”

Again… I’m not sure Charley counts. “Sure. I just had a new vibrator delivered.”

“Bee!” She steps back, a look of revulsion on her face.

Clearly my mother hasn’t experienced the wonders of a battery-operated boyfriend. No wonder she’s so uptight.

Also, a perk of having the kind of name that can’t be shortened? It’s really not threatening when it’s yelled at you like that.

“What? I’m just being honest.”

“Well, don’t. Behave yourself tonight and try not to alienate Carter Hughes. You probably have just enough manners left in your body to convince him why your design is best.”

And failing that, I have a mouth, a hand, and a vagina, but I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate that comment. “Sure. I’ll try my best.”

She pauses, as if she weren’t expecting me to respond so amicably. “All right, then. Try not to alienate any other clients between now and then.” She turns toward the door.

I salute her behind her back and turn back to my screen, her words flowing in one ear and out the other.

I haven’t alienated a client yet.

Except perhaps Carter Hughes.

But let’s be real. He was a conquest way before he was a client… at least in my world.

***

Charley tilts her head to the side, repeatedly capping and uncapping her water bottle. “Do you think he’s going to offer you the contract?”

“I’ve been to his restaurant twice. The first time, I screwed him. The second time, he told me the numerous ways we should repeat our first meeting.” I frown at the bottle. Jesus, that’s annoying. “I think his order for me to meet him has more to do with the fact he slammed me against a wall and kissed me last night opposed to a contract.”

“Huh. You may as well run away if he doesn’t offer you the contract. Your mom will lose whatever sanity she has left.”

I groan and knock my head against the window of the booth we’re sitting in in the cafe. “I know. What’s wrong with me, Charley? Why can’t I keep myself under control?”

“Uh, he kissed you.” She clicks the bottle again.

I snatch it from her and slam it on the table. Thank God. “I know that. I’m just saying that maybe I should have, you know, pushed him away from me sooner.”

“Like a slap to the face?”

I was thinking a little less violent, but it works. “Something like that.”

The waitress brings Charley’s sandwich and my Caesar salad over and sets them on the table. We thank her, and then Charley focuses on me. “Did he specify the reason for the meeting?”

“No!” I furiously stab at a piece of chicken with my fork. “Mom would have said. Just that he wants to see me tonight. Outside of office hours. In his restaurant. Alone.”

She shrugs and bites into her sandwich. “So tell him you can’t go,” she says around the food in her mouth.

I frown at her then shake my head. “I can’t do that. What if it is for work?”

“Then he should use his words and tell you that.” She snorts. “Honestly, Bee. Just call him and find out.”

“Like he called me?” Yeah—it hasn’t escaped my notice that I gave him my direct number on the card, and he called my mother to bitch about me. I know why he did it. He’s trying to get under my skin, because clearly, my panties aren’t enough.