Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,29

love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of woman.

Joseph clearly sensed her hesitation. And for a long second he just looked at her, searching her face.

Then his hands were beneath her arms, hauling her onto the white sheets as he followed her down onto the bed, his long, powerful body pressing between her thighs. She gasped, arching up, and he kissed her, his mouth demanding.

All her doubt vanished. She’d never been sexually confident, but now it was as if some other woman had taken over. A demanding woman who knew what she wanted and went out to get it. Her hands began pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his trousers, slipping under the material to touch the bare skin of his back. He was so hot her palms tingled where she touched.

Joseph made an impatient sound and pushed himself away from her. Kneeling between her legs, he then took his shirt off, discarding it over the side of the bed. Christie stared, unable to take her eyes away from the exquisite contours of his chest and stomach. This was a body earned by hard, physical exercise, the lines of his abdomen sharply defined, chest and upper arms corded with muscle. Oh, but he was beautiful. That demanding woman inside her urged her to touch him and she did, Joseph watching, his eyes shadowed in the darkness of the room. His skin felt smooth, roughened by whorls of black hair, and she let her fingers follow the dips and hollows of the sculpted pectoral and abdominal muscles.

“Do you like what you see?” His voice edged and rough with desire.

He really had to ask? But when she glanced up at him she saw that yes, he expected an answer. Almost as if he wanted her approval.

“Yes,” she breathed, loving the fact that he’d asked. Loving the fact that her answer made the look in his eyes intensify. For good measure, she added, “But I have to admit, I’m kind of hoping for the leopard-print thong.”

His mouth curled, his breathing hitching. He reached down and placed her fingers on the zip of his trousers. “Why don’t you find out, Naughtygirl?”

Christie’s mouth went dry. Sitting up, her fingers tightened on the zipper and slowly she pulled it down.

Not a thong. Tight-fitting boxer briefs instead, clearly outlining the long, hard length of him.

“Oh,” she sighed. Releasing the zipper, she reached out a hand, but his fingers closed around her wrist.

“Not yet,” he chided. “Now it’s your turn.”

Christie swallowed.

“It’s okay,” Joseph said. “Let me do it.” He reached for the hem of her T-shirt, beginning to lift it.

But Christie pushed his hands away. And when he dropped them, she grabbed her T-shirt and pulled it off over her head before she could think twice about it. Then she met his gaze, defiant. Man, one word about her skinniness or lack of curves, and she’d be out of here. Out of here so fast his head would spin.

Joseph looked at her, his eyes taking in every aspect of her body before returning to her face.

Then he reached for her, sliding his hands down her body, shaping every dip and hollow with gentleness, reverence. As if she were beautiful.

As if she were perfect.

A small tremor shook her and Joseph’s hands stilled. He looked down into her eyes and she knew he’d felt her shake. Knew he’d seen fear.

Fear that she wouldn’t be good enough for him.

How bloody humiliating.

The need to run gathered inside her, but then Joseph’s fingers slid into her hair, pulling out her ponytail, letting the soft mass of it flow over her shoulders. And as his fingers tangled in her curls, tugging her head back, the need began to seep away. There was a fierce, intent look on his face. He didn’t say anything, just bent his head and kissed her again, gentle at first, then more insistent, drawing their bodies together, skin to skin. His hands slid around her back, undoing her bra, drawing the straps down and off her shoulders. She shivered as it fell away, bringing her hands up to cover herself, an automatic gesture. But Joseph, lifting his mouth from hers, circled her wrists in an iron grip, holding them down at her sides. Her heart thudding in her chest, Christie met his gaze.

“You are beautiful,” he said softly, emphatically. “Believe it.”

And just like that, the urge to run vanished.

Maybe she could believe it. When he looked at her like that, she could believe anything.

Tension eased, loosening its grip on