Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,32

again, and this time he took it even slower, exploring every inch of her with his hands and mouth, bringing her to the very limit of her control, before burying himself inside her body, taking them both right into the heart of pleasure yet again.

It was only afterward, as she fell asleep in his arms, her hair spread across his chest, her breath warm and soft on his skin, that he understood.

One night wasn’t going to be enough.

Chapter Seven

“You’re revolting this morning, St. John,” Marisa commented grumpily.

Christie put the coffee she’d bought on Marisa’s desk. “And a happy Monday to you, too.”

The other woman glowered. “There’s nothing happy about Mondays.”

Christie grinned. “What? Is that all the thanks I get for remembering your triple-shot, soy trim latte with the one sugar?”

Marisa gave her a distasteful look. “Hmm, a smile like Pollyanna, a new haircut, distinct lack of metal T-shirt, and, dear God, you’ve got sandals on your feet.” Her eyes widened. “And they’re pretty sandals! Okay, who are you and what have you done with Christie St. John?”

Christie resisted the urge to pat her newly trimmed hairstyle. So she may have gotten a haircut over the weekend. And she may have splurged on a new pair of shoes. She may have even hesitated with her usual choice of band T-shirt and put on a plain green tight-fitting one that reflected the color of her eyes instead, but what did that have to do with anything?

She shrugged. “Nothing. I felt like a change.”

“A change? Yeah, right. You hate having your hair done and you never wear sandals.” Marisa’s eyes narrowed. “You got lucky, didn’t you?”

Should she tell Marisa? She wanted to. Wanted to shout to the heavens that Christie St. John had had a whole night of hot sex with a gorgeous billionaire. A billionaire who thought she was smart and funny and sweet. And sexy. Definitely not forgetting the sexy!

Christie took a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear, then she sank down in the chair beside Marisa’s desk, giving in to the urge spill her guts. “You know that guy? The one I met for that dating thing?”

Marisa gave a shriek. “Really? Oh my God! Not Mr. You’re-So-Hot-I-Have-To-Have-You-Now?”

“Uh yeah, him. Well, I met him again.”

“Oh my God! Where? When? How? I want details!”

Should she reveal Joseph’s identity? It wouldn’t hurt. Her interview with the guy was going to be featured in the magazine, after all, and Marisa would no doubt guess in seconds flat anyway. She was uncanny like that. “I met him at the product launch.” Christie leaned in a bit closer. “It was Joseph Ashton.”

“What?” Marisa’s shriek made everyone in the office raise their heads and look around.

“Shut up, Mar.” Christie flapped her hands urgently. “No one knows, okay? I’d like it to stay that way.”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. But you had a night of hot, unbridled passion, right?”

“Yeah, hot.” Christie couldn’t stop herself grinning. “And the bridles were most definitely off.”

Both and more. Joseph had been an incredible lover, passionate and demanding, and yet, when she’d needed him to be, also tender and patient. She’d been amazed at how her touch affected him. And how uninhibited she’d been. Like he’d unlocked something inside her. A sensuality she’d never dreamed she’d possessed.

The whole night had been heady, intoxicating. Exciting.

Marisa gave another, more subdued shriek. “Whoa, you go girl. You bagged yourself one hell of a catch.”

“I didn’t catch anything,” Christie corrected. “It was only a night.”

They’d both agreed, hadn’t they? One night was all they’d wanted. Admittedly she’d had a moment’s fleeting regret when she opened her eyes and saw him sprawled beside her the next morning, his restless energy quiescent in sleep. But fleeting was all the regret had been. She hadn’t wanted to stay, hadn’t wanted the whole morning-after-the-night-before awkwardness of whether to swap numbers or who was to call whom and when. And the thought of telling him she’d changed her mind didn’t appeal either. So she’d quietly dressed and left.

It had been her decision and she was happy with it.

Marisa’s brow wrinkled. “But you’re seeing him again, right?”

Christie pushed herself up from the chair, sensing the end of the conversation was now in sight. At least, from her end. “Uh, no.”

The other woman blinked at her. “What. The. Hell?”

“Oh, I’m not into relationships at the moment, Mar,” she said casually. “I’m happy with my life. Guys just make things way too complicated.”

Marisa leaned on her desk, blue