Page 36 of Sinful Attraction

I weigh the conflict inside of me and set my jaw. I’ll find a way to handle this. I just have to admit that actually doing the big idiot harm is off the table. I’ll find another way to own his ass.

My grand plan lasts only long enough for him to step, naked except for a condom, into the shower behind me. I know about the rubber because my only warning that he’s on his way is the rustle of its wrapper being torn open.

I can’t see a goddamn thing since my hair is full of conditioner, and I’m head-down working it through. “Uh, hey, wait a sec—” I start, but he’s already in behind me and yelling in shock and dismay.

“Oh, God, what the fuck?Why is it cold?”

“I... I was trying to...” I flail for the shower knob and turn the water to warm quickly.

He lets out a sigh of relief and catches his breath. “Jesus Christ, cold showers? Are you secretly a Navy SEAL or something?”

I can’t help but giggle at the absurdity as I start rinsing out my hair. “No. I was just...”Trying to stop being horny for you.“Trying to wake up.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve got an entire fucking coffee counter for that.” His tone is gentle but a little exasperated. “I’ve even got a milk steamer. I promise you that will do the job just as well as ball-shrinkingly freezing water at six in the morning.”

I finish rinsing out and turn to look down at him. “They look fine to me.”

He scoffs. “You’re biased,” he challenges, and I just roll my eyes at him. That makes him laugh.

“Guess I ruined things without meaning to, huh?” I confess as I look up at him. His dick is at half-mast, and he’s only starting to recover from being all-over gooseflesh.

He looks down at himself and shrugs, then raises his head, smirking. “Nah.”

He pins me against the wall under the spray and covers me with kisses, one hand busy between my thighs, until I’m trembling, wobbly, and clutching at him. Finally, when I’m breathless and squirming against him, he crouches down and settles me over him, gripping my hip with one hand.

He pushes up into me, and I squirm between him and the tiles, and the pressure in just the right places sends tingles through my clit that make me whimper and moan into his mouth. We move together roughly, and his hoarse groans in my ear turn me on as much as the sensations.

I almost want to fight the pleasure about to overwhelm me, to spend more time with him deliciously moaning while he fights not to blow his load until I’ve climaxed. The look on his face is priceless: eyes closed, lips parted with bliss, then widening to let out another hoarse, animal groan as I rock against him.

His cock jumps inside me, and he thrusts upward roughly as I hear him shout, “Oh,” so that it echoes inside the shower stall—and then my pussy clenches around him hard, and I sob and squirm with ecstasy. He squeezes me close and moans my name in my ear, and the way he says it hits me right in the heart.

This feeling is the antidote to everything my family makes me feel. I’ve wanted to find it for years. And now, I’m feeling it from my most dangerous professional rival. This happiness, this peace.

He helps me back to bed, my hair in a towel but my body naked and tingling. Many soft kisses and a fresh condom later, he’s inside me again, slowly rocking against me while we gasp, whisper, and stroke each other.

He makes me come twice that way, the first long and luxuriant, the second, like slow sweet ripples in a summer pond. Then, he groans long and low in my ear and fucks me for a few slow, hardstrokes before arching, shuddering, and finally settling over me gently.

I lie there staring at the ceiling with blurry eyes, rosy from orgasms and more scared than I should be. I feel out of control. He could exploit this. He could use me, humiliate me. He could break my heart on top of everything else.

But that doesn’t change what I’m feeling. It’s raw vulnerability, and it’s probably unwise. It doesn’t matter. I want Michael. I don’t want to walk away from this, whether or not I spank his ass for crossing me.

We go over the guest list for Michael’s parents’ party and check through all of them. No guest from the party entered any of the rooms where a login was recorded during the corresponding login time. Since most people logged in from bedrooms and private offices, it makes sense... but it’s another goddamn dead end.

“Fuck. Thought maybe we had something,” he quietly grumbles as he pushes back from his laptop.

“It was still worth checking out,” I say gently. I’ve been subdued ever since I drowsed off in his arms again. Too much to think about. “Look, since you’re feeling more focused now, let’s see what other visitors your family has had.”

He nods... reluctantly. He seems embarrassed that we’re still not on top of this. Of course, the reason we haven’t been is mostly because we’ve been on top of each other. But I refuse to have any regrets about that, and I hope he doesn’t either.

We’ll figure it all out now.

“So... none of the guests were involved, and nobody else had access during these hours except your staff and your family.” I venture this somewhat gently as we watch screen after screen of time stamp comparisons between video logs and Net logins.

“And some of my father’s men, yes,” he grunts and nods. “That doesn’t mean the perp was family. They could have prepared for the cyber intrusion physically days in advance.”

I nod, but I feel troubled as I look at him. This is a real sore point for him, and I hate pushing about it—but it’s the fucking truth. “No, it doesn’t. But it very likely means he or she had help from an insider.”

His jaw works. “I won’t believe that until I have real proof of it.”

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