As the refined cream lace of her bra was exposed, Des reached out to run his fingertips along the scalloped edge. “Beautiful.”

He’d never been so in awe of a woman before, yet there was something special about the way Gracie was showing herself to him. She was entrusting him with her body and it was something sacred.

With every ounce of control exhausted, Des pulled Gracie to him and sought her mouth with a burning intensity. As his tongue met hers she sighed against him, her hands threading through his hair and tugging. She tasted of peaches, her teeth nipping at his lower lip between kisses.

Hooking his fingers into the soft cup of her bra, he dragged the fabric down so her breast sprang free. It was perfect; round, pert, and more than enough to spill over his palm. He brushed the hard bud of her nipple with the pad of his thumb, delighting in the husky moan that escaped her lips. Her breath was hot against his cheek and he rolled the bud gently—tweaking, tugging, and flicking at a leisurely pace.

She pressed herself against him, grinding into his parted legs so that his erection strained harder against the fly of his jeans. He wanted her badly, he wanted to throw her down on his desk and make her cry out his name. Except there was the small problem of the hundred plus people on the other side of the office door.

He pushed the worry from his mind. With Gracie’s curves beneath his hands he didn’t want to think about anything else, about anyone else. He drew her nipple between his lips, scraping the hardened peak gently with his teeth. She gasped, her knees wobbling. Des clamped his thighs around her so she was supported while her head rolled back, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

“Touch me, Des.” She drew his hand to the wisp of cream lace that concealed her most sacred part. “Please.”

A thump on the door broke them apart and Gracie clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Des?” the young, male voice on the other side of the door sounded wary. “You still in there?”

“What is it?” Des growled as he pushed up from the desk and went to the door without opening it. “Can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“Sorry man, I don’t think it can.”

Des opened the door only enough so that he could shield the office with his body.

“There’s a problem with one of the customers.” His trainee barman’s face was pinched and two men exchanged words on the other side of the bar. “How could you not hear them?”

“Where’s Paul?” Des scanned the bar. His brother was nowhere to be found.

The young barman shrugged. “There was a blond girl…”

He sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

Fuck.

Chapter Six

Gracie stood in the middle of Des Chapman’s office in her underwear, with god knows how many people on the other side of a flimsy wall, and she hadn’t had a single drink. Emmaline’s words had unlocked something inside her—a desire to do something for the sake of pleasure. Something reckless and irresponsible and so not her.

What the hell am I doing?

Her body ached, burned, throbbed, and soared in more ways than she knew possible. She could still feel the pressure of his lips around her nipple, the hardness of his excitement between her legs. Stifling a groan, Gracie pressed her thighs together to stop the pulsing there…but it didn’t abate.

“Damn it,” she swore under her breath as the confidence seeped out of her.

She was making a mistake…a huge one. Des was forbidden fruit and she’d come this close to taking a bite. She didn’t do quickies in a public place. She didn’t throw herself at unsuitable men.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Trembling hands made the fiddly buttons on her shirt a nightmare and she let out a steadying breath before continuing. She was zipping up her jeans when Des walked back into his office.

He raked a hand through his hair. The stubborn waves sprang back into position as soon as he released them. “Don’t go.”

“I shouldn’t have done this.” Her voice trembled as she bent down, scooping up her heels from where they lay, overturned, on the floor. She slipped her shoes on and folded her arms across her chest.

“Gracie…”

“This is your place of work.”

“It’s my business. I’m not going to fire myself and with some of the shit the guys pull, no one here is going to say anything.”

“Do they all know what we were doing?” A wave of nausea rolled through her. If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

Twenty-seven years old and she’d never been caught kissing a boy, let alone been caught with both proverbial and literal pants down. She brought her hands up to her cheeks and closed her eyes.

“Of course not.” He swaggered over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “However, if you’re the one making all the noise, I can’t be held responsible for that.”

“Oh, no.” Shame washed over her. Had she been moaning loud enough to breach the walls of the office? When his lips connected with her breast it was like her whole world went blank. She could have been doing anything. “Please stop.”

It wasn’t like she was some virginal innocent. She’d had a lot of sex, but most of it happened to be with her ex. Since then she’d found the few—very few—men she’d let into her bedroom to be lacking in all departments. No guy had been able to turn her on like this.

Des was different…and that was exactly what made him dangerous. She fell apart around him, lost control of her sensibilities. That was never a good thing.

“I have a new rule for you.” He brushed his lips over her cheek, the stubble on his jaw scraping against her skin.

“Really?” Rules were comforting; rules were safe. Right now she could do with a little more of that.

“Yes, the rules according to Des.” His hand stroked her lower back, soothing her. “You should never, ever, ever feel ashamed for being turned on. There is no greater joy in life for a man than seeing a gorgeous woman enjoying herself sexually.”

“That’s not a rule.”

“Like hell it isn’t. Rules aren’t purely to stop you from doing things, you know—you can use them for good instead of evil.”

“I don’t use them for evil.”

“Then come home with me.” His eyes locked onto hers, two sparkling black gems that were hypnotic in their power over her.

“Now?” A breath caught in her throat. “But you have a restaurant full of people, you have a business to run, you have—”

“I have the need to see you splayed out naked on my bed, Gracie.” As if to prove his point he backed her up to the wall of his office and pushed his hips against her. “I have the need to taste every sweet inch of you, to bring you to orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.”

She sighed, her head rolling back against the wall while he trailed kisses up her neck.

“Is that a yes?”

“You had me at naked.”

…

There had been plenty of opportunities for Gracie to back out—from the awkward escape at the restaurant, to the short walk to his car, to the ten minute drive to his house. She’d been quiet the whole way, but she never broke contact with him.

Her hands drew intricate patterns on his thigh while he drove and she snuggled against his back as he unlocked the front door. Part of him had wondered if she might gather her senses and make a break for it.

Yet here she was, standing in his living room among the leather furniture, exposed brick, and polished boards. She radiated at the center of it all and he couldn’t look anywhere else.

“Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Soda?” The courtesy was merely a tick in a box because he didn’t want her to think he’d savage her the second they walked through the front door. Though savaging her was exactly what he wanted to do.