Rules of Negotiation by Inara Scott Page B

eyes and leaned against her. Her other hand settled on his shoulder, and she could feel the cords of muscles in his neck tighten as she gave in to the desire to rub her hips against him.
    “I think we’ll need to make a slight change of plans,” he said a moment later, his voice tight. “I forgot something at home. We’ll have to drop by my penthouse. I hope you don’t mind.”
    Tori barely heard him, as she brought her other hand up to his shoulders and gently pushed him against the leather chair. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” She shoved hard and he fell into the seat. She grabbed her purse and pulled a fresh condom from the secret pocket in the back.
    A good attorney is always prepared. Tori’s Rules of Negotiation Number Four.
    She’d refilled her stash the night after she returned home. Not because of Brit, of course. Because a woman had to be prepared.
    When he saw what she had retrieved, he closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure. “How did you guess?”
    She unbuttoned his pants with fingers that had suddenly become nimble with need. Later, she wanted to linger over his body, feel him slowly enter and fill her. But now she wanted it fast and hard. She wanted to forget everything about herself. Her job. The partnership. Long days and lonely nights.
    After a few, impatient minutes, she had straddled him, her knees finding purchase in the smooth leather. She covered his mouth with a deep, searching kiss and tasted her own juices still lingering on his tongue.
    How long had it been since she’d done this?
    You’ve never done this .
    “I can’t wait,” he said against her mouth.
    “Don’t try.”
    He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her hard, their teeth bumping in a tempest of passion. It was quick and hard. He drove into her with a fierce, needy rhythm, and she matched his every move. Though she had not though it possible, she felt her own pleasure rising and building. When she leaned back and arched her hips, he touched a place inside her that no man had ever reached, and it sent her reeling into space. Faster and faster they moved, until he groaned against her neck, his body tensing. When she felt him explode inside her, she let herself go as well. His relief was sudden and violent, and she shattered along with him, their bodies moving in unison. He shook with his release, his arms locking around her as he buried a cry of pleasure against her mouth.
    They lay together, panting, until Tori’s legs began to cramp. Reluctantly, she peeled herself off and stood on shaky legs. The embarrassment she had felt earlier disappeared, replaced by a flood of pure satisfaction.
    “Now that we’ve got that settled…” She pulled the remaining pins from her hair and let it settle around her shoulders. “We should probably give Sam back his office.”
    “I should probably buy him a new chair,” Brit said, crinkling his nose.
    Tori laughed. Who knew sex could be so damn fun? After worrying all day about what to do with her overwhelming attraction, she now felt light, carefree.
    Staring at the hard contours of Brit’s face, Tori made a resolution. She would give herself this weekend—at least, until Sunday—to enjoy this reckless, impossible passion. Her work, Karl Bulcher, and her mother would all be waiting when she went back home. For now she’d forget it all.
    It was no strings, no looking back, and no regrets.
    …
     
    They went to the museum first, but neither Tori nor Brit had the attention span to gaze solemnly at works of art. So they headed for Central Park instead, and spent hours walking around aimlessly in the warm sunshine. It seemed only natural that Brit would reach out and take her hand as he pulled her out of the path of a particularly unstable inline skater, and not let her go as they threaded their way around the groups of people enjoying the early summer warmth. They talked about nothing of importance. Books, plays, music they liked. When they reached the edge of