After-Hours Negotiation: Can't Get Enough / An Offer She Can't Refuse. Sarah Mayberry

she reached for the closure on his pants, even as he pushed her skirt up and pressed a palm against the moist heat between her thighs. She could feel how ready she was, was almost embarrassed by how ready she was, but it only seemed to increase his desire as he helped her push his cargo pants down over his hips. His erection was hard and proud against his belly and she reached for it with sure hands. He was big and beautiful and she wanted him inside her as soon as was humanly possible.

      He must have been a mind reader, because no sooner had she wrapped her fingers around his shaft than he was dragging her panties off impatiently. She got lost in space and time for a beat as he swept a knowing hand across her mound, his thumb finding the sensitive nub of her clitoris unerringly. A shaft of pure desire rippled through her, and while she was still recovering, he slid his fingers down to the slippery folds of her inner lips. She clenched in anticipation of his penetration, but he held back as his thumb continued to work her clitoris.

      “You want me inside you?” he whispered huskily at her ear, his finger circling her slickness now, teasing.

      In answer she raised her hand to her mouth and licked her palm, her eyes holding his as she slid it back between their bodies and slicked her wet hand up and down his shaft, her thumb gliding across the delicate velvet of the head of his penis before sliding down again. As she had before him, he shuddered in response, and she felt a surge of feminine satisfaction as a muscle clenched in his jaw.

      “You want to be inside me?” she whispered back, increasing the tempo of her movements, loving the feel of him in her hand.

      Suddenly he twisted away from her, grabbing his wallet, finding a condom and putting it on, all before she could protest his leaving. Then she was on her back and he was positioned between her legs, his body weight supported by his formidable arms as he hung above her. There was a split second of thrilling anticipation and then he was plunging inside her, filling her completely, so much so that the base of his shaft ground satisfyingly into her swollen clitoris as he buried his length in her.

      She gasped her surprise—it was never, ever this good for her. It was as though he’d been made for her, as though she’d been waiting for this moment for so long that she was on a hair trigger, ready to explode. And then Jack was stroking in and out of her, each sweep driving her crazy. She clutched at his back, his butt, his shoulders, pushed her hips up to him, rocked away, gasped out his name. Straining, wanting all of him, she chased the growing tension inside herself, loving the harsh sound of his breathing as he rode her. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he reached a hand between them and found her clitoris again, swollen with need, ready for him. One, two, three passes of his deft thumb and the tension inside her broke in a cascading wave and she was falling apart in his arms, her muscles clenching around him, her hips bucking, his name on her lips.

      It was as though he’d been waiting for her, because no sooner had she dissolved around him than he’d stiffened with his own orgasm, shuddering into her, his face pressed against her neck.

      For a long time afterward there was nothing but the sound of their harsh breathing. Jack lay on top of her, still inside her, and she tried to pull the fragmented parts of herself back together.

      She felt…consumed. There was no other word for it. Utterly, completely consumed by the magic they’d just created together. The best sex she’d ever had. Ever. Hands down. The most amazing sensual experience of her life.

      At last Jack raised his head, and their eyes met. He looked as blown away as she felt, his blue eyes incredulous as he looked deeply into hers. A smile softened the curve of his mouth, and he opened his mouth to speak—

      The phone rang. They both stiffened. The phone sounded again, and Jack shrugged ruefully.

      “I have to get that.”

      “I know.”

      He withdrew and rolled away from her in one smooth move, and the sudden loss of skin contact made her feel inexplicably cold and alone. Flushed, she watched as Jack reached for the phone.

      “Yeah?” he said, one hand coming up to push the hair back from his forehead. The action hid his face from her momentarily, just when it was very important that she be able to see his face, his reaction. His body seemed tight, defensive. What was he thinking? His hand dropped down at last, and she studied him closely.

      He glanced across at her, his eyes flicking down from her face to her still-sprawling body. Suddenly she felt exposed, spread out in front of him with her skirt rucked up, her bra pulled down. With trembling hands she tugged her bra into place and slid her panties on before pushing her skirt down, listening all the while to the cryptic, monosyllabic conversation Jack was having with whomever was on the other end of the phone.

      “Great, thanks,” Jack said, at last placing the receiver back on the hook.

      He reached for his boxers before he spoke.

      “Ted estimates about five minutes,” he reported, and she nodded her understanding.

      It was over. They were about to be rescued, and their enforced encounter was at an end. Neither of them said anything as they shuffled into the rest of their clothes. Claire didn’t know what to think or feel. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she was shocked at what had just happened. She felt as though she was swimming in treacle as she tried to analyze her feelings. It had been so good…so intense. She’d never felt anything close to the kind of passion she’d just experienced.

      But now it was over, and it was back to the real world, to office politics and maneuvering and executive meetings ad infinitum.

      She shot a glance across at Jack, trying to work out what he was thinking. They’d just had the wildest, most uninhibited sex in all the world. Was he feeling as shell-shocked and shaky and amazed as she was?

      He glanced across at her, his expression unreadable, and her spirits sagged. Of course he wasn’t. She was kidding herself. He was probably thrilled to be getting out of here. As she should be. What had just happened had been an aberration, an insane one-off that would never have happened outside of this very particular set of circumstances. Hell, it probably happened to him every second day—this was the office stud they were talking about, after all.

      “They’re winching us to the nearest floor,” Jack explained belatedly.

      They’d pry the doors open there, and then they would go their separate ways. This moment, this incredible, challenging time-out from the normal world, would be gone forever.

      Claire found herself reaching into her bag, grabbing one of her business cards and a pen. Urgent, she scribbled her home number on it, not thinking, just feeling. She’d just shared the most extraordinary physical connection with this man. It had been more than great sex—surely she hadn’t imagined it? Surely, he, too, must think that there was something undiscovered here—something with so much potential that it would be crazy to walk away from it?

      “Here,” she said softly, and when he met her eyes she saw Jack’s confusion and amazement and she felt a surge of confidence as she slid the card into his hand.

      “My home number,” she said huskily.

      Before he could respond, the elevator lurched up several feet, and the sound of screeching metal filled the car. Slowly the doors slid open to reveal a crowd of onlookers and rescue workers.

      She and Jack were swept up by their various assistants and colleagues, and before she knew it, Jack was heading one way down the hall, and she was being ushered another. She glanced over her shoulder once, but he was listening to something his assistant was saying and he didn’t see her.

      It was almost as though it all had never happened. But she remembered the look in his eyes as she slid the card into his hand.

      He’ll call, she assured herself fiercely. He has to after what just happened between us....

      * * *

      JACK PROPPED CLAIRE’S business card on his hall bureau as soon as he got home, liking the invitation and potential contained in that small piece of card. It was a no-brainer, really.