Page 22 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

‘I want you,’ she told him, deciding to be honest. What was the point of lying when he could see her pointed nipples and her skin flushed from need?

‘You work for me,’ he reminded her, resting his forehead against hers, his hands still holding hers so that she couldn’t touch him. And she wanted to, very much. But she hadn’t had sex since she and Fred had broken up three years ago and she never had one-night stands. This was totally out of the ordinary for her and she was winging it here. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t walk away from him, not now, not tonight.

‘We are adults,’ she told him. ‘We can separate work from pleasure. This has nothing to do with my job, with Mat, with why I came to Copenhagen,’ she continued. Then she remembered how Bo must normally deal with situations like this. ‘This is only about sex, about some bed-based fun. I don’t do commitment; I won’t do commitment. And I’m leaving anyway...’

She sounded so much more confident than she felt. And why wasn’t he jumping all over this? Why wasn’t he leading her to his bed? Why was he even hesitating? He was the king of no commitment, so what was his problem?

Deciding that there was nothing else she could say to persuade him, she cupped her hand around his strong neck, lifted her thigh, the ruffled split giving her room to move, and draped it over his hip. Dragging her mouth across his, she whispered against it, ‘I need you to take me to bed, Bo. Can you do that?’

She knew he wanted her, and she wanted him—more than she’d ever wanted anybody or anything in her life—so she decided to stack the odds in her favour. Moving her hand down his chest, she skimmed her fingers over his stomach...yep, there was a six-pack under the fabric waiting to be explored. She cupped him, sighing when her hands couldn’t cover the length of him, realising how big he was.

When his eyes deepened, flaring with lust, she knew that there would be no more talk, only action.

This might be a mistake, but it was hers to make and one she would never regret. She needed this experience. She needed to know him in the most intimate way a woman could know a man.

Ollie had used words he normally would—no expectations, no commitments,blah-blah-blah—but he was tired of doing the right thing, the clever thing, the sensible thing.

Right now, and for the rest of the night, he just wanted to feel.

All reservations about what they were doing, about this journey of discovery they were embarking on, gone, Bo released the air he’d been holding and stopped fighting temptation, currently wearing a long white dress. All night, he’d imagined, hoped and dreamed of watching the garment pool around her feet, exposing her to his hungry, needy gaze. He was going to get to love her and Bo felt like the luckiest man in the world. But he wasn’t about to make love to her in front of this window or on a couch. No, he needed his massive bed, the space to stretch out, to move and to love her properly. They might only ever have this one night, a few hours until morning broke and reality intruded, and he was determined to make them count.

Scooping Ollie off her feet—was that a sigh of relief he’d heard?—he walked her down the hallway to the massive suite of rooms under another high, angled roof. He had a small sitting room and a big bathroom attached to either side of his room but to his mind, most importantly, dominating the centre of the room was his California king. The doors leading onto his private balcony and hot tub were open and in the darkness of the Norwegian summer he could see stars hanging low in the sky, close to the purple sea, and he enjoyed the warm, scented air blowing in from the sea. This was his space, his sanctuary, the place he came to relax. He never brought women back to his house, he always went to theirs—it was so much easier to leave! But it felt right that Ollie was the first woman to share his bed, his space.

When her feet hit the floor, he cupped her face and lowered his lips to hers, keeping his touch gentle. He wanted to savour and sip, to take his time exploring her curves and dips, the secret wonderland that was her body—this undiscovered and wonderful land he’d been given access to. He kissed her again, but her lips were a little hesitant, so he pulled away to look down at her. The difference in their height was exacerbated by the fact that she’d kicked off her sexy heels. He bent his knees so that their eyes were level.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘Do you want to stop?’

If she said she did, he might just howl. But he’d take her back to her room and leave her there. No was no, no matter how far they’d travelled down this road.

She shook her head, then nodded. She looked as confused as he felt. ‘Being in your bedroom sort of broke the crazy spell.’

The crazy spell—that was a good way to describe the wave of lust they’d surfed back in the living room. What they were doing was very real and a little scary, similar to the anticipation he felt when standing on the edge of a steep, untested ski slope, or diving off a boat into the blue ocean. But he also felt so, so alive...

Then Ollie looked up at him with her gorgeous, deep-brown, almost black eyes. ‘Maybe we can...you know...just kiss again?’

Yes, they could do that—absolutely. Bo led her to the bed. ‘Let’s get comfortable while we do that, okay?’

Ollie, unembarrassed, hiked her dress up her thighs and climbed onto the bed, watching as he toed off his shoes and bent down to remove his socks. When he lay down next to her, she rolled into him, half-draping herself across his chest. He dragged his thumb over her cheekbone and explored the pretty shell of her ear. ‘You are so beautiful,’ he told her, his voice sounding as rough as sandpaper.

‘You’re pretty hot yourself,’ Ollie told him, her fingers sliding inside his shirt to find bare skin. He ran his hand down the bumps of her spine and felt her shiver. Yeah, the heat was building. He pulled the grips from her hair, tossed them to the floor and watched, fascinated, as her hair fell to her shoulders and down her back. He picked one curl up and wound it around his finger, thinking it was so soft.

Wanting her to set the pace, his eyes caught hers again and she smiled, a feminine, secret smile that he recognised as being girl code for ‘I’m going to blow your mind’.

He had no problem with that. He really didn’t.

Ollie scooted up onto her knees and held back her hair so that she could kiss him without him getting a mouthful of curls, but he pulled her hand away so that her hair hung like a wavy curtain on either side of their faces. Her curls tickled his cheek and his neck as he plundered her mouth, wanting to get them back to feeling wild and inhibited again. While still trying to kiss him, Ollie fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and, impatient to have her hands on him, he gripped the fabric at his collar and ripped the shirt apart, exposing his chest to her roving hands.

Ollie murmured her approval and her mouth moved across his jaw, down his neck and across his collarbone, tracing the lines of the geometric tattoo that flowed from his right pec across his shoulder.

‘So sexy,’ she murmured.

‘Not as sexy as you,’ he countered, meaning every word. And if she didn’t get out of that dress, if he didn’t get his tongue on her nipples or his hands between her legs some time soon, her dress was going the same way as his shirt. ‘How attached are you to this dress?’ he asked. He’d paid for it, but that meant nothing; she’d worn it, so it was hers.

Ollie’s head snapped up. ‘I rather like it. Why?’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Then get it off before I tear it off you.’

Yes, he sounded bossy, like the CEO barking orders his staff knew him to be. Ollie just grinned. ‘You’re bossy,’ she told him, amused.

---