Rules of Negotiation by Inara Scott Page A

pleasure filling the room as she jerked against him. He kept moving, sucking, until the shaking stopped, and her body went limp in his arms.
    …
     
    When the world stopped spinning, Tori lifted her head and opened her eyes. Brit was on his knees, watching her with a steady, glowing hunger. It took her a moment to recall that her legs were spread wide, and her panties lay in a discarded heap on the floor.
    What was he doing to her? She snapped her legs together and pushed herself off the edge of the desk, peeking behind as a hot blush crawled across her cheeks. Had she left a stain on the desk?
    “No, my transparent beauty, you don’t have to worry. The desk is fine.” Brit slowly rose to his feet, watching her with that deep, measuring gaze.
    Tori pushed her skirt back to her knees, barely able to believe the desire still running through her body. She wanted him again. Now. In a bed or on the desk, it didn’t matter. She wet her lips.
    Lord, what had she done? What was he doing to her?
    He picked up her thong and handed it to her. “Someday you’ll have to explain to me why women wear these things. Other than to torment men, that is.”
    Tori snatched the offending garment from his hand, her face burning hotter than before. “I haven’t done laundry for a while,” she said.
    He jumped to his feet and caught her in a rough embrace. The length of his erection pressed against her thigh and she had to suppress an urge to open her legs and give him room. “Tori, I don’t understand why you’re fighting this. We’re good together.”
    “I don’t have time for this, Brit. My life is…complicated.”
    And, if we’re being honest, you scare the crap out of me. All right?
    “Tori, I want a weekend with you. That’s it. No pressure.”
    She dropped her head against his chest, unable to face the knowing look she’d see in his eyes. Why was she fighting so hard? She had Brit Bencher between her thighs, for goodness sakes. He offered pleasure with no strings attached. No hard feelings when they rolled out of bed the next day and went their separate ways.
    What was she so afraid of, anyway? She wasn’t a helpless lamb being led to the slaughter. She was an adult, with a raging sensuality that had been locked up for far too long.
    She had a sudden, irrational urge to call Betsy and ask what she should do. But she knew what Betsy would say. Are you kidding? Have some fun for once, her bubbly secretary would cry, throwing her hands up in despair. He’s offering you the chance of a lifetime. Take it!
    Unbidden, she heard her voice as if it was coming from a distance. “I suppose I could stay the night. But just the night. I’ve got work waiting for me at home.”
    With one large hand, he guided her face to his. “It’s Friday. You’ll stay the weekend. You can go back Monday.”
    “I’ll leave early Sunday morning,” she said stubbornly, looking at his shoulder.
    He chuckled. “You’ve always got to have the last word, don’t you?”
    She pursed her lips and looked him directly in the eyes for the first time, a weight lifting from her shoulders when she saw the pleasure reflected there. No knowing look, no smug grin. Honest pleasure.
    He was right. Why not stay? Why not give in to this unexpected and overwhelming desire? She’d be back to work soon enough, and Brit Bencher would be nothing more than a pleasant memory.
    An answering smile reluctantly formed at the corner of her mouth. “It’s one of my many personality flaws. I’m also moody and argumentative. At least, that’s what my friends tell me.”
    “With friends like that, it’s no wonder you need a weekend away. Sunday it is. But while you’re here, no more pretending you don’t want this as much as I do.” He guided her hand down his chest to the erection that still lay heavy against her leg.
    Unbidden, her fingers closed gently around him. She stroked him with a light touch, feeling herself throb with renewed pleasure when he closed his