Page 102 of Wicked Fantasies

There had been very few people in his life who’d ever felt confident or comfortable enough to give him shit about anything—his uncle, Carter, and now Frankie made up that short list.

“Um, excuse me, but who was the person who came up with the idea of using photographs for the artwork, mimicking the look of a wedding album? We were stuck until I suggested that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d hardly consider that an earth-shattering epiphany, but who am I to split hairs? I’ll even take one for the team and lose the first item of clothing.”

He leaned forward in anticipation of spending the rest of the night working with a topless Frankie.

She reached up and removed one earring.

“What the fuck? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

She shrugged. “Jewelry wasn’t eliminated as clothing and it certainly qualifies as something you wear.”

She’d fucked him over with semantics. Next hour it would be his turn to lose a piece of clothing, followed, no doubt, by her other damn earring. A quick glance at her hands confirmed she was wearing two rings as well as the bracelet dangling from her wrist. Hell, she even had a necklace on. It would be well past dawn before he ever saw any skin and by then, the game would be over until tomorrow night.

She chuckled softly as she returned to her sketches, and he decided it was time Ms. Carlyle understood exactly who she was messing with.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

She looked up at him, confused. “Am I?”

“Five minutes of fun. Start the clock now.”

Before she could respond, he pulled her out of her chair and on to his lap. She started to protest, but he cut off her comments with his lips on her now earring-less lobe. She moaned when he sucked it into his mouth, and he tucked away the new information that told him Frankie’s ears were definitely an erogenous zone for her. With his teeth and tongue, he teased the tiny bit of flesh, even blowing along the edge of her ear, loving the slight shudder his breath provoked.

Her nipples peeked through her blouse and she began to squirm on his lap. He started to suspect she wouldn’t complain if he shoved her skirt around her waist and took her. But, where would be the fun in that? She’d attempted to play him for a fool with her jewelry trick, and now he was going to make sure she suffered for that gag.

“Time’s up,” he said after several minutes of tormenting her tiny earlobe. She startled at his proclamation, and he hid a grin as he watched her try to shake off the residual effects of his touches. She was horny as shit. Good.

She stood up from his lap, returning to her chair slowly. He ignored her gaze on him and turned back to his computer, pretending to work. He tried to discreetly adjust his pants. It was going to be a long night.

Frankie rosefrom Reed’s lap on unsteady legs. It was well after midnight, and the man had kept her in a state of perpetual horniness since they’d started this damn game. It was her own fault for initiating the stripping idea. She’d been trying to gain back some of the ground she’d lost when she’d lowered her shield, asked him to postpone collecting on a bet he hadn’t even won. What the hell had she been thinking? Why hadn’t she bothered to ask him if he’d even created a campaign before conceding to him?

She knew why. For weeks, she’d lived with an uncomfortable truth. She was falling for Reed Donovan. And that was something that simply could not happen. He was too controlling, too set in his ways. Hell, hadn’t he informed her during her first week at The Donovan Group that it was a man’s world? An image of her father flashed through her mind. She wouldn’t become her mother. She wouldn’t give up a career that meant everything in the world to her simply to appease a man.

She’d asked him to hold off because she needed time to regroup, time to rebuild her walls. Enacting their fantasies had opened her eyes to the very unsavory fact that there was very little she wouldn’t do to please this man in bed. And while that hard truth had so far been contained to the sex realm, she was terrified it could creep over into their professional lives as well.

“How come you never married?”

His question jarred her, dragging her from her worries. She shrugged. “I don’t know. No time, I guess. You know how much work goes into building this career.”

He nodded. “You never wanted to get married? Never met Mr. Right?”

She tried to understand his sudden interest in her love life. “No.”

“Don’t you ever date, Frankie?”

She scowled. “What’s with the third degree? None of this is any of your damn business.”

“I’m just curious. Working on this campaign got me to thinking about marriage and weddings.”

She decided to lob the ball back into his court. “How come you’ve never gotten married?”

His answer came easily. “If you’d asked me a couple of months ago, I would have said the same thing as you. Work keeps me too busy to pursue a relationship.”

“That’s not the answer now?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I think the reason I’ve never taken the leap is because I’d never met the right woman. A woman who made me think forever wasn’t such a bad proposition.”

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