Boss With Benefits (Billion-Dollar Bet, #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

E LLA ARRIVED AT the exclusive out-of-town airport first thing on Saturday morning as instructed, practically quivering with anticipation. The excitement leaping about inside her was almost impossible to contain.

For one thing, she’d never been to the Caribbean. Generally, when she took a vacation, she went to Europe to improve her knowledge of geography, culture and history, only occasionally venturing farther afield, to India, Africa, Japan. Secondly, the heat in Manhattan in summer could be unbearably stifling, and a balmy private island which would ensure the discretion they both favoured sounded like a delightful alternative. Far more importantly, however, she was now mere hours away from allowing herself to give into the temptation that had plagued her since the moment she’d arrived at the Courtney Collection.

The last five days had not given either her patience or her nerves an easy ride. Evidently flush with success at having secured her agreement to an affair, Adam had persuaded her not to move downstairs. It hadn’t taken much. He’d suggested treating the countdown to the end of the week as foreplay, and she was all unpacked three minutes later.

She’d half thought she’d regret the added distraction. But she hadn’t, because she’d entered such a state of hyperawareness that the audit had kicked up a gear. Progress had steamed ahead as if on steroids. Long steamy looks across the divide had not derailed it. Nor had conversations that were ostensibly about the methodologies used to value inventory and the whereabouts of documents relating to revenue recognition but at the same time were laden with subtext. Somehow, she’d even managed to rise above the occasional steamy text message he sent.

Where were you at lunchtime?

That was how one such exchange had started.

I went shopping for Caribbean-friendly clothes.

That was a waste of time.

Why?

You won’t be needing any.

The audit had wrapped up to her satisfaction, bang on time on Friday afternoon, and she hadn’t stuck around to celebrate for long. She’d gone for one quick drink with her team, but she’d been too distracted by her own scorching thoughts to stay.

Now, the car that Adam had sent for her was drawing up to the jet that stood on the tarmac and shone bright white in the early morning sun. The driver opened the rear passenger door and Ella climbed out. Her entire body thrumming with adrenaline, she thanked him and then walked up the steps as if she did this sort of thing all the time. She ducked her head and entered the cabin to find Adam had beaten her to it. He was sitting on a buttoned sofa in a space that—with the low lighting, sumptuous furnishings and highly polished wood décor—looked more like the cocktail bar in which they’d met than any plane she’d ever been on.

Watching her with an intensity that ramped up the thrills whizzing through her to an almost intolerable level, he got to his feet, and immediately the cabin seemed to shrink in size and run out of air.

‘Good morning,’ she said breathlessly while trying to keep it cool because a crew member was flitting about, so they weren’t alone.

‘Good morning,’ he said, his voice deep, low and tinged with a roughness that made her shiver. ‘Come and join me.’

Giddy with the realisation that there was no longer any need to keep her distance, Ella did as he suggested. She walked towards him, feeling as though she were tied to the end of a rope he was slowly hauling in, and when he sat, so did she. The cream leather sofa was comfortable but small. Her knee was inches from his. His intoxicatingly masculine scent instantly enveloped her, and she fizzed so badly with the need to touch him that she had to sit on her hands.

‘Coffee?’

‘Thank you.’

He turned a fraction and leaned forward to pour her a cup. His shoulder brushed hers as he moved, and she nearly leapt out of her skin. She was never going to last the flight if she carried on like this, she thought despairingly, letting out a long slow breath and willing her heart rate to slow. She had to calm down. She really did. And what was there to be jittery about anyway? She was being ridiculous.

Mentally giving herself a firm shake, Ella accepted the cup he offered her with a hand that she was pleased to see was now as steady as a rock and took a fortifying sip.

‘How was the show?’ she asked, referring to the Broadway play he’d attended last night with Annabel and stamping out the voice that was whispering dirty little secret in her ear, because this was nothing like the illicit affair she’d had with Drew. Adam had been very clear about what he wanted from her. Exactly why he too was interested in no strings or complications was irrelevant. They were on the same page. That was the main thing. And this time round, she had herself under control. Mostly.

‘Interminable,’ he replied. ‘How were the drinks?’

‘Short.’

Even though she could look at him forever, to do so was sorely testing her resolve. So as the engines fired, she glanced around, her curiosity piqued, her auditing antennae quivering despite being on leave. ‘Is this the company jet?’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’

Her gaze swung back to his. A gleam lit the blue depths of his eyes. The ghost of a smile played at his mouth, and she wanted to kiss him so badly she ached with it. ‘You hired one just for me?’

‘I bought one just for you.’

For a moment, Ella didn’t know what to say. Her brain had completely stalled. She’d never had anyone go to such lengths to address her concerns or want her so much that they bought a plane to facilitate a three-week fling. Drew, who, mortifyingly, had not had to woo her at all because somehow she’d thrown her self-respect out of the window along with her sanity and slept with him the night he’d chatted her up, hadn’t even bought her dinner. ‘I’m flattered.’

‘I’m regretting it doesn’t have a bed.’

That was indeed a shame, she thought, swallowing hard in response to the smoulder with which he was looking at her. ‘How long is the flight?’

‘It’s five hours to Aruba. From there, fifteen minutes in a seaplane.’

‘I believe it’s called delayed gratification,’ she said, wondering how on earth she was going to stand it.

‘I believe it’s called torture.’

‘What shall we do to occupy the time?’

‘How about I tell you everything I intend to do to you when we land?’

A flush hit her cheeks. Her pulse rate rocketed. Her lungs seemed to have collapsed. ‘Will that take five hours?’

‘More.’

Oh dear God. ‘We have company.’

‘Then come closer.’

Helpless to resist, Ella put down her cup and did so. Adam was as good as his word, his level of detail as impressive as it was mind-blowing, and by the time they arrived at the island mid-afternoon, she could barely stand. Her limbs were liquid. Her heart was beating so hard she was surprised she hadn’t cracked a rib.

She’d never experienced anything like the intensity of his focus, she thought as she disembarked from the seaplane they’d transferred to in Aruba and he’d piloted himself. For as long as she could remember, she’d been her number one priority. Now she appeared to be someone else’s, albeit temporarily, and it was a bit bewildering.

However, she must not let it overwhelm her. She must not allow herself to be swept up in the attention. It would do her no good at all to get carried away by the fairy-tale romance of it all. She was an auditor with a fondness for spreadsheets. Practicality and realism were in her DNA. For all she knew, Adam treated all the women he slept with like this. And what they were doing was about getting him out of her system, not allowing him to work his way even further into it.

While he removed their luggage from the seaplane, Ella stood on the jetty and surveyed the landscape. To her left, the rocky coastline disappeared around a curve. To her right stretched a band of dazzling pristine white sand upon which lapped tiny crystal-clear waves. Beyond the idyllic beach, nestled among the palm trees, stood the house, a sprawling white two-storey building with a wraparound veranda on the ground floor and balconies on the second supported by elegant white columns.

It was stunning, classy, everything she’d expect from a luxury goods magnate and nothing like what she was used to, and suddenly an unexpected flurry of nerves swooped into her stomach, because what was she doing? This wasn’t her world. She wasn’t a private-jet-private-island-billionaire’s-plaything sort of a person. She ought to be back in New York, man-free, drycleaning her suits and clearing her inbox. This was reckless, rash and—

‘Are you all right?’

His voice cut through the rising panic, and she blinked and blew out a breath as her pulse began to slow. There was no need to overthink this. It was a fling. That was all. And hadn’t she just told herself not to get carried away? She had to ease up. Focus on the facts. Chill out, as they said, even though she couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually done that. ‘I’m just taking a moment.’

‘Having second thoughts?’

‘No.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then stop dawdling.’

He slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up her case. With his free hand he took her elbow, then led her along the jetty and up some steps. He propelled her along a wide sandy path that led to the house and in through the front door. He dropped the case and the bag and kicked the door shut.

But she didn’t get a chance to check out the light airy space, because in the blink of an eye he’d pushed her up against the wall and slammed his mouth down on hers, instantly wiping her head of the doubts and the nerves, because this was what they were about. Chemistry. Sex. Nothing else.

So it didn’t matter what he was or what she was. All that mattered was that this was a kiss she’d waited over week for, a kiss that had kept her awake at night, twisting and turning in torment, and it was everything she’d been anticipating. More. It was hot. Wild. Electric. Days of pent-up desire exploding in a clash of teeth and a tangle of tongues.

Dizzy with longing, as tiny bombs of excitement detonating inside her, Ella lifted her hands to his shoulders, tracing the contours of his muscles that bunched and flexed beneath the black cotton of his polo shirt. She dug her fingers in his hair. He held her hips and pulled her pelvis to his so she could feel exactly how badly he wanted her.

His erection pressed hard against her and liquid heat pooled between her legs. Fire rushed through her veins. He tasted and felt better than she remembered and her entire world shrank to him, this dominating, punishing, utterly magnificent kiss and the ferocious need that pulsated between them.

He eventually tore his mouth from hers and she dragged in a much-needed breath, only to lose it again when he turned his attention to her jaw, her earlobe, her neck and the pulse that throbbed wildly at the base of it. When he slid a hand up her side to her breast, cupping it and brushing a thumb over her tight, aching nipple, she gasped in response to the lightning bolt of ecstasy that shot through her. Her knees buckled, and if he hadn’t been pinning her to the wall, she’d have collapsed to the floor.

Desperate to arouse the same sensations in him, she disentangled her fingers from his hair and ran them over his hard, muscled chest, down, down, down to the waistband of his jeans—at which point he stilled, lifted his head from her neck and jerked back.

She opened her eyes, suddenly wracked with confusion. ‘Why are you stopping?’ she panted, gazing helplessly into his darkly glittering eyes.

‘I promised you a bed.’

He scooped her up, and before she could protest that she wasn’t some faint-hearted damsel in distress, he was carrying her across the hall and up the stairs. He barged into a room and dropped her onto the vast bed. Thinking that, actually, she would play the damsel in distress any day of the week if it meant being enveloped in all that heat and strength, Ella took the opportunity to whip off her sundress and tossed it aside.

Adam came straight down on top of her, and within moments, her bra had joined her dress on the floor. His mouth landed first on one breast, then the other, and as he began to lavish attention on her, she lost all track of time and place. Her head spun and her breath stuck in her lungs. The sensations sizzling through her were so devastatingly powerful, she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out.

‘There’s no one to hear you but me,’ he muttered, his hot breath tickling her feverish skin as he began to inch his way down her body. ‘Make as much noise as you want.’

When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he deftly removed her underwear. Then he put his mouth on her and she did as he suggested. She couldn’t help it. She was beyond reason and he was just too good at this. Gasping, groaning, parting her legs even further, she clutched at the sheet with one hand and kept his head in place with the other. She tried to writhe to alleviate the throbbing ache, but he held her still. He removed her hand from his head, trapping her wrist on the bed, and took full command, dictating the pace, ignoring her pleas and increasing the torment until she was sobbing and begging for release.

She’d never felt desperation like it, never wanted something so badly, and when her orgasm finally hit, it struck with the force of tsunami, drenching her in such pleasure so intense she felt as though she might drown in it.

With stars still exploding in her head, her breathing still ragged and shallow, Adam reared up. He stripped off his clothes and rolled on a condom, and then he was back between her legs, angling her hips and sliding his gloriously thick length into her. And although it did not seem possible—surely her body couldn’t recover from something so exceptional so quicky—a fresh wave of desire surged through her.

He kissed her deeply, fiercely, the taste of her on him scattering what few wits she’d managed to gather. When he began to move, she clung to his broad shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. His skin was hot and slick. The friction of his hair-roughened chest against hers was sensational. With every slow, controlled thrust, she lost a little bit more of her mind.

And she could tell that he was losing his too. He’d wrenched his mouth from hers and buried his head in her neck. His thrusts were becoming less measured and increasingly frantic. Astonishingly, the exquisite pressure was building inside her again, like a bonfire that had merely been doused, not wholly put out.

She tightened her legs around his hips and dug her fingers into his back, her blood on fire, her breathing rough. Then somehow, he slipped his hand between them, skilfully finding the spot where she pulsed and burned, and she shattered, gasping, panting, crying out his name. A second later, with a muffled roar, he buried himself deep inside her one last time and collapsed.

‘Well, that was worth waiting for,’ she murmured once she’d regained her breath and he’d lifted his weight off her.

‘That’s just the start of it,’ he muttered raggedly, staring down at her, his glittering gaze filled with promise. ‘We have days to make up for, and as you know, my imagination’s been hard at work.’

‘So’s mine,’ she said with a delicious little shiver.

‘Show me.’

While Ella lay sprawled on the bed beside him, the midnight moonlight giving her skin a silvery glow, Adam reflected that she had been bang on with her observation about delayed gratification.

The last week in the office had been insanely tough. Never had his self-control been so tested. He lost count of the number of times he’d been forced to remind himself of his commitment to the bet and the significance of the audit for his takeover in order to stop himself from buckling beneath the overwhelming crush of desire and taking her where she sat. And he’d evidently developed masochistic tendencies, because he could have drummed up any number of meetings to spare himself the torment of having her constantly in his line of sight, but he hadn’t. He could also have let her move downstairs as she’d wished, but he hadn’t done that either.

So much for the assumption that arranging an affair would ease what remained of the audit, he’d thought every time he’d stepped into the shower and flipped the dial to cold. In practice, the unbearable week had crawled by so slowly it had frequently felt as though time were going backwards. The plane ride down here, during which he’d let his imagination run riot and caused himself a whole lot of pain in the process, had seemed to last years instead of hours.

And yet he’d undergo every single second of it all over again if it meant the kind of sex they’d spent the afternoon having. What they’d got up to had far surpassed anything his feeble imagination had managed to conjure up. One minute it was feverish, frantic and explosive. The next it was slow and thorough, though nonetheless earth-shattering. There was barely an inch of her he hadn’t explored at length, and she’d spent a good hour tormenting him with her hands, mouth and hair while he simply lay back and surrendered. Her insatiability—and his—would be the death of him. Not even in his wildest days as a reckless teenager had he lost it so hard and so often. And best of all, they had an entire three weeks of it.

The intensity of the experience was greater than he’d been expecting. Greater than anything he’d come across before, in fact. But he had no doubt that it would soon fade. It invariably did. And most likely it was caused by a five-day run-up that had been as hot as it could be without physical contact anyway.

Nor was he overly concerned by the efforts he’d made to arrange the affair. Practically speaking, all he’d had to do was make some calls and get out his cheque-book. Annabel, who’d been intending to spend the summer at an Austrian health retreat before he’d asked her to escort him around the city, had had no problem reviving that plan. It was the work of a moment to instruct the house to be opened up and another couple of hours to purchase the plane.

Telling Ella about the bet had not been difficult either. He wasn’t remotely concerned he wouldn’t win it, despite what she’d said. He’d briefly checked out the Blush magazine website for the latest tally, and it was true that Cade and Zane had gone rather quiet on the dating front, but it was early days.

Furthermore, as he’d suspected, revealing the bare bones of his interest in Helberg had been fine too. She hadn’t pushed him further on why Montague’s was so important to him, which would certainly have been a trickier conversation to navigate, so on the whole, he was extremely satisfied with how everything had played out. And there was no denying that a plane for personal use would come in handy once the takeover was complete and he had more time on his hands.

The only thing he didn’t much like was the fact that she believed herself to be his dirty little secret. Despite the planning he’d done, he’d failed to consider the possibility she might think that. It disturbed his already compromised principles and left the hint of a bitter taste in his mouth. But if she could get over it, then so could he.

The crucial thing was that they were singing from the same hymn sheet. They were both in this just for the sex. Why that was important to her didn’t matter. All he needed to know about her was which position she fancied trying next.