Page 61 of Sinful Beauty

How dare he? His attorney probably totally outed us. Tristan might not care about this job, but I do. My hands ball into fists, not that I would punch him, but I might jump out of my skin otherwise.

“Graeme is retiring before the end of the year. The man is as apathetic as they come. And he’s been a family friend for as long as I can remember. He will do nothing that would jeopardize?—”

“You.” I glower, pacing the floor. The logical part of my brain weighs in, saying that his logic isn’t off. Tristan might view the world differently, but he’s intelligent and has considered all angles. And he’s doing this for me, which is kind. That he’s attempting to help me tempers my anxiety. We might not be forever, but he cares. And what he’s saying makes sense. Graeme won’t do anything that poses a danger to Tristan’s ascension to the corporate throne. “But your mother. Can you imagine your mother’s reaction if he mentions it to her?”

He brushes it off like I’m speaking gibberish. She’s one that definitely won’t hurt her son’s career prospects, but she won’t be pleased others know he’s dipped his quill in the company ink well.

“What about your father?”

He stiffens. “What about him?”

“Would he be angry at you? If Graeme mentioned something to him? You know, your father has lunch with Graeme and Nelson regularly. I make the reservations.”

“My father dines with anyone. And I can assure you. If Graeme mentioned you to my father, he’d call to ask me about you. And he hasn’t.”

“Do you see your father often?” I’ve spent so much time with him, but I rarely hear of him spending time with his father. If I lived in the same town with my father, I’d meet up with him regularly.

“Let’s not talk about my parents.” He swirls his wine. “This conversation got off track. We live far enough apart that it would make sense for us to keep a change of clothes at each other’s place, don’t you think? Or, since you insist on arriving at the office before anyone else, you should at least keep some options here.”

I roll my eyes at him, mainly because of his lackadaisical attitude. If he stays at my place, he has no problem strolling through the door close to noon.

It’s troubling actually. In my life, everyone I’ve known worked hard, as if our very survival depended on it, and it has. And here he is, loaded beyond my wildest imagination, and he treats work like it’s an afterthought.

But none of that matters. Earlier, I spoke the truth. We’re having fun. Enjoying one another. And as scared as I have been about the office uncovering whatever is going on between us, the Wagner name offers a shade of protection. It’s office politics. The rules exist for some, not all.

He bites on a cheese slice, then drags the tip of my finger through honey, and brings it to his mouth. He licks, then sucks my tip. I feel the suction through my center, straight to my core.

“Take off your clothes.”

I swallow, hesitant. His steele gray gaze unnerves me when I’m the sole object of his attention, but then I remember who I am. I won’t be intimidated by him as I’ve come too far. Worked too hard to make it on my own without the benefit of having a prestigious family or heritage. If we’re going to play, we’ll play as equals.

I lift the sweater over my head, and place it on the kitchen island. His gaze falls to my breasts, supported by a plain black bra.

“Continue.” One eyebrow lifts and heartrate kicks up a notch.

I reach behind me and unbutton my skirt, unzip it, wiggle my hips and let it fall to the floor. I’m in thick tights, which aren’t exactly the sexiest, but you wouldn’t know that from the heat in his gaze.

He steps forward and bends to his knees, His hands go to my waist, and his lips to my waist, then lower. His warm breath caresses my sex through the tights, and he presses his lips right there. Every muscle clenches. He pulls the tights down, and peers up me.

“Lift.” He caresses my right calf, and I follow his instructions. He tenderly removes the tights, and kisses along my thigh, before caressing my left leg. “One more.”

I obediently lift my left leg, mesmerized as he slides the tight down from my knee, over my calf, to my ankle, and then over my foot. He’s like a prince, kneeling before me. I half expect him to present me with a crystal heel.

I’m completely bare to him except for my bra, and the way he’s looking at me, you’d think I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

“Up.”

I don’t understand.

“On the counter. Here.” He grips my hips and lifts and I find myself seated on the island.

“What–”

“Tut tut. You said you brought me dinner. Lie back.”

The marble cools my skin.

He twirls a small spoon in honey and drips it along one thigh. “Lean back.”

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