Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,9
right in front of her. “N-no.”
“But you are Naughtygirl25, right?”
She wanted to say of course she wasn’t. Which was weird because there wasn’t any reason to. Not that she could anyway with the damn brooch on her shoulder, glinting in the streetlight.
Christie tried to get her tongue working again. “Yeah.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I must admit, you’re not quite what I expected.” His gaze began to travel down her figure, assessing her, pausing on her legs before rising back to her face again. “But that’s a good thing.”
A good thing? Something lingered in his eyes, a flame that burned hot. Intent.
She went still, her heart thundering. No guy had ever looked at her like that before. Like she was something delicious he wanted to eat.
“Oh,” she said stupidly. “Why?”
His mouth curved in a slow, sexy smile. “Because I didn’t expect you to be quite so gorgeous.”
Christie gaped at him. Gorgeous? Had he perhaps inhaled something before meeting her? Something illegal? Guys liked her because she was a gamer. Because she didn’t zone out when they started playing their favorite Minecraft YouTube clips or talked about the number of frags in their Halo games.
“What? I’m being inappropriate again?”
Speak, idiot!
“Uh…n-no. I just…just…” She stopped, flushing.
“You just?” he prompted.
“N-nothing.”
His smile deepened. “So do I get to find out why you took one look at me and ran out?”
Ah. Yes, her frightened-rabbit exit. She shifted on her feet, heels giving a dangerous wobble. “I…it was just…I had to leave.” Lame. So lame.
He waited for her to elaborate and when she didn’t, prompted, “Leave for….?”
“Uh, urgent…um…women’s problems.” Oh dear God. Had she really just said that? Was she insane?
But Studman or whoever he was only laughed, the sound of it making her feel good. In the same way licking melted chocolate from a spoon made her feel good. Hot and sweet, and very, very naughty.
“Urgent women’s problems, huh? And here I was thinking it was because you didn’t find me attractive enough.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
His lazy sensual smile went straight to her head like a glass of expensive champagne. “Perhaps. But chemistry is a tricky thing.”
“Chemistry?”
“Yeah, chemistry. We had it online but I wasn’t sure we’d have it in real life.”
“A-and do we?”
His gaze traveled down over the stretchy black dress again before returning to her face, making something way down inside her feel hot and restless and needy. “Oh yeah,” he murmured. “I think we do. Don’t you?”
He seemed to want an answer from her, but the look in his eyes had made her brain decide to take a vacation and she had no idea what to say.
Naughtygirl would know.
The thought hit her like an electric shock.
Yes. Naughtygirl would know. And this was kind of like being online, wasn’t it? He didn’t know who she was and she didn’t know who he was. There were no expectations. No pressures. She could be whoever she wanted to be. Even Naughtygirl25, who took her clothes off and lay on sheepskin rugs with gorgeous, disreputable strangers who called themselves Studman.
Christie swallowed. Then gathered her courage. “Y-yes. I think we do have c-chemistry.”
Way to go with the stutter. Great start.
Both brows drew together this time. “You don’t sound very sure.”
Just pretend you’re typing this into the computer. That he’s not standing right in front of you, blinding you with his hotness.
She lifted her chin. “Well, of course I’m sure. They don’t call me Naughtygirl for nothing, you know.”
“Is that a fact? You were pretty naughty online.” The flame in his gaze burned hotter. “How about in real life?”
Oh wow. Something was crackling in the air between them, a tension that left her breathless.
Was this the chemistry he was talking about? Because if it was…damn.
Christie took an uncertain step toward him. “Oh, I have been known to get pretty naughty there, too.”
He smiled. “Would admitting that I do, in fact, have etchings you can come up and see be too much?”
“Etchings are never too much.”
“In that case, would you like to come up and look at mine?”
“Only if you have a sheepskin rug and Neil Diamond.”
“I don’t. But I can make a mean Bloody Mary.”
“I have a confession. I don’t really like tomato juice.”
“Good. Because neither do I.”
Somehow they’d gotten closer to each other and she had no idea how it had happened. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to get even closer.
Excitement caught in her throat. She took another few steps, her heels teetering, her dress pulling tight around her thighs. Unfamiliar sensations. Reminding her of who she was supposed to