“I don’t have latex,” he said. “So I’ll do this.”

He dropped to his knees and put his mouth to her.

She almost screamed, the sensation was so intense. He felt the flinch and murmured soothing, incomprehensible things against her groin as he rubbed his cheek against her thigh, petting her. His breath felt so soft, like a brush of fine silk, and his fingers were so skillful, parting her, and then his tongue, warm and soft, swirling and fluttering, and the pleasure grew too intense to differentiate sensations.

She collapsed back onto the table, and a tiny part of her brain stood apart for a moment, astonished at how her life had upended itself. Last night, celibate, and crushed out on an unattainable man. Today, spread-eagled and pantiless in his conference room, getting marvellously tongue-lashed by that same unattainable guy.

Yeah, and if she didn’t attain him all the way, she was going to collapse into a screaming, writhing human black hole, the hunger bit so deep and hard. She pushed his face away. He looked up in silent question, wiping his mouth. She saw his grin flash in the dimness.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “Good. More?”

“What about you?”

His soft laughter tickled her pubis. “I’ll live.” He paused for a moment, and added, “Somehow.” He pressed his lips to her, fluttering his tongue around her clit in a way that sent her spinning into a dizzying vortex. The man was amazing. And her body was a fire gone wild in a fireworks factory. She pushed his face away, struggled up onto her elbows. “Please,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”

He stared at her, and she wished she hadn’t used a silly romantic euphemism. It made her vulnerabilities so obvious. She should have just said, “Fuck me.” It would have been clearer, more honest. They’d both know where they stood. Or sprawled, as the case may be.

But she couldn’t. Such a blunt, crude phrase would not come out of her mouth. Romantic, old-fashioned idiot that she was.

He gripped her hips, fingers digging in. “No latex,” he repeated.

She gulped in air and exposed herself still further. “I have some.”

He froze. “No fucking way.”

“Um, actually, yes. In my purse. My co-worker bought them for me today, as a joke. She was roasting me. I never thought I’d—”

“Where’s your purse?”

“On the chair, I think, on the other side of the—”

He’d already yanked it open and flung its contents onto the table. He found the box, and seconds later he was back, opening his belt and opening the shrink-wrap in a show of manual dexterity that would be dazzling if she’d been in any condition to appreciate it. She caught a glimpse of his big, thick phallus as he sheathed it, and then he pushed her back down onto the table and folded her legs up high.

The bulb at the end of his cock seemed impossibly big, pressing against her. He slid it tenderly up and down the length of her labia, caressing her with it until he was wet, and she was squirming against him, in silent pleading. And he drove slowly inside.

Duncan counted back from ten, holding his breath. Please, God, not yet. He breathed the climax carefully down, but the second he opened his eyes and looked at her again, spread out beneath him, he was in trouble again.

So beautiful. Fuck. His body shook with excitement. The jealous, eager grip of her pussy was an agonizing torment. Each stroke was another torturous lick of the lash.

He was glad he’d gotten her good and wet, or he’d never have gotten inside. As it was, each stroke was slow, pushing against the hot, plushy resistance of her body that enveloped him, throbbing with the heavy beat of her heart.

Again…and again, and finally the tight, careful strokes relaxed and they found their rhythm of deep, swirling, rocking thrusts, punctuated by wet slaps of contact, his labored breathing, her breathless gasps. She was working up to another climax. And now his own orgasm was crashing down on him like a falling meteor, the sky was in flames, but God knew how, he held it off…until she took flight.

They soared together, through that inner nowhere. Fused.

He collapsed over her, panting. His mind wiped clean. He’d never imagined feeling so close. Feeling the essence of her, in the heart of that burning, twisting glow. So beautiful.

His eyes fluttered open. He was pinning her soft body onto the hard table with all the weight of his torso. He lifted himself hastily up.

Her face was turned away. He felt shy, humbled. He didn’t know if she’d felt what he’d felt. The postcoital crash chilled him with doubts. He pulled out of the excellent, tight clutch of her body.

The condom was a problem. No way in hell was he leaving it in the trash can in the conference room. He rummaged on the table for the drugstore bag the box had been in. Peeled the condom off, sealed it up. Tongue-tied as a thirteen-year-old boy who’d just had his first lay. He hastened to shove his still-turgid dick back into his pants, and fasten them, with some discomfort, over the bulge, before he even dared to look at her.

She’d straightened her clothing in the meantime, too. She’d pulled her panties back on. Her stockings were up, skirt tugged down. She was fastening her garters. Waiting for him to speak first.

Damn. Women were always the talkative ones. This was the first time in his life he’d ever longed for one of them to break the silence.

“Are you, uh, okay?” he ventured. She nodded. He kicked himself for his lack of inspiration. So much for that stellar, brilliant attempt.

“That was incredible,” he offered.

“Yes,” she agreed.

He was heartened. “I didn’t mean for things to happen so fast between us,” he said.

She stifled a soft, whispery giggle. “Me neither,” she murmured.

It looked like she wasn’t getting all emotional on him, thank God. Maybe she was a reasonable female. “Well, there’s no going back now.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, I think we’re on to something here. It’ll be complicated, but it’s worth it to me. Let’s go get some dinner, and we can hammer out the details.”

“Details?” she repeated slowly.

“Yeah. Our mutually beneficial arrangement. It’ll need to be secret, for obvious reasons, but we can swing it. I’ll take you to my condo. We’ll order in. I’ll show you how beneficial it can be.”

She flipped the light switch on, unexpectedly. He blinked and took in the blazing fury on her face. It rocked him back on his heels.

“Not.” She grabbed her purse, began shoving things into it.

He was perplexed. “Nell—”

“That’s Ms. D’Onofrio to you, Burke,” she said, scooping up the scattered stuff on the table and stuffing it into her purse. “You can take your mutually beneficial arrangement and shove it right up your ass.”

She shrugged her purse over her shoulder and strode out. Her mane of black curls bounced with each brisk, angry step.

He lunged after her, grabbed her shoulder to spin her around.

“Don’t touch me.” She flinched away.

“You didn’t complain about me touching you ten minutes ago. Are you fucking with me? Because we both know that was mutual.”

“I am not fucking with you.” She spat each word out. “It looks like we were fucking with each other, but we’re done with that. Definitively.”

He shook his head. “I don’t get it. Just tell me if I need to call my lawyer.”

She blew out an explosive breath. “No, Burke. I’m not setting you up for a lawsuit. I’m not an extortionist or a con woman. If you want me to sign and notarize a piece of paper saying I came six times, I’ll—”

“Eight,” he specified.

“Do not push me,” she said, biting the words out. “The sex was great. You’re amazing in bed. Actually, that’s a misnomer. I’m sure you’re amazing on the floor, in the shower, up against the wall. But the minute you zip up your pants and open your mouth, you’re a rude, crass, graceless clod. So get out of my way.”