Page 23 of Dante (Members From Money Season 2. #153)

The svelte quartet of receptionists barely glanced up as she walked in, the phones already ringing off the hook and keeping them busy.

Taking a deep breath, she hurried to the private elevator, more than happy that she did not encounter anyone on her way up and grateful that his offices were the only ones on the top floor.

Settling behind her desk, she made some tea and got straight to work. Before long, she was buried in paperwork and phone calls.

When he called an hour later, she was on her way to being composed and answered the phone in her usual polite and professional manner.

"Mr. Livingston's office, how may I help?"

"I thought I told you to come in late."

His deep voice shattered her careful composure and had her going still.

"I... er. Hi. Uhm, you have messages. I..."

"That can wait. Are we going to have to fight about this all the time?"

She busied herself by shuffling documents. "I wanted to come in and it was later than usual. Are you coming soon? Not that it's any of my business..."

"Of course it is. I'm on my way."

"Okay. Good. I'll see you then."

"I'm looking forward to it." He hung up before she could respond and for a few seconds, she just sat there.

"Oh God," she whispered, pressing a hand to her stomach. "Calm down, girl. And try to appear normal." Right, she mused and shook her head. That's going to happen.

Dante could not believe how eager he was to get to the office to see her. And resented being stopped on his way to the elevator by an associate who insisted on talking his ears off. He had to excuse himself by telling the man he had a meeting and was running late.

By the time the elevator doors sprung open and he reached the outer office, he was a mixture of anticipation and excitement and just simply leaned on the jamb to take her in.

She had sprung for a clingy cashmere emerald green sweater that looked great against her skin tone and her hair was brushed back from her face, the side secured with a silver clip.

The lower holes in her lobe had swingy hammered gold earrings that shimmered against her cheek when she moved. And he ached to feel her against him.

She looked up and saw him, her fingers hovering on the keyboard. Silence hung between them, potent and intimate. Her heart fluttered as she took in the expression on his face. He was wearing a suit, ash gray with a ruby red shirt, the two top buttons undone, revealing his strong tanned throat.

His hair was tousled whether by the wind or his fingers, giving him a sexy earthy look that had her going weak. One hand fluttered to her chest as she continued to stare at him. He held her eyes as he crossed to the desk.

"Come into my office," he murmured. "Now." Without waiting to see if she was following, he moved towards the doors and pushed them open.

Picking up her device, she followed him and closed the doors behind her. "I have some messages and the reports..."

"Come here," he interrupted softly. He was standing behind his desk, ignoring the mounds of paperwork piled in front of him.

Her breathing was shaky, and her legs weren't cooperating.

"Mr. Livingston..." She realized how foolish she sounded even before he lifted his brows at her. "Dante, we don't have time..."

"Come here."

She crossed to him, how could she not, when she felt as if she was being drawn by a magnet. Stopping in front of him, she stared at his throat.

"Are you going to look at me?" Amusement laced his deep voice as he pinched her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"I've been thinking about doing this all morning.

" He laid his mouth on hers and she was lost. He kissed her with all the pent-up frustration and desire he had been feeling since she left this morning.

When he felt her acquiescence, he deepened the kiss, his arms banding around her waist to draw her closer to him.

The ringing of the phone had her pushing at him and he was forced to end the kiss. "I have to answer that."

"Hmm." He brushed his lips against hers and reached for the phone.

"This is Livingston." He listened for a moment, never taking his eyes off her face.

"Push back the meeting for five more minutes.

Yes, that's what I said. Do it." He hung up and continued to torment her by nibbling at her bottom lip.

"Dante..."

"I love hearing you say my name."

"We should stop."

"I don't want to."

"We need to talk."

"Hmm." He was nibbling the seams of her lips, his hands roaming her back restlessly.

"I cannot think."

"That's the idea. Kiss me back, baby."

His tone and words had her melting and turning into a puddle. With a helpless moan, she obeyed, her tongue diving into his mouth. He went mad. With a tortured groan, he wrapped his hands around her waist and took them deeper, until they were both lost in the swirl and clinging to each other.

They lost track of time as the kiss went on and the passion escalated.

"Jesus Christ!" His voice was ragged. He eased her away from him and tried to compose himself.

It took several minutes to bring his breathing under control.

His desire for her was monstrous and overpowering.

"Go," he whispered harshly. "And call down to the finance department. Tell them I need a few more minutes."

When she hesitated, he gave her an impatient look. "Please. If you don't leave now, I won't be responsible for what happens next."

She fled on trembling legs. Waiting until she had closed the doors, he took a few seconds before marching over to the cabinet. Pressing the button, he grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured two fingers into a glass and took a healthy sip.

The burning from his throat to his gut did nothing to quell the raging desire going on and he took another sip and tried to quiet his heart.

This was getting ridiculous, he thought furiously.

Taking the glass with him, he went to stare out the window, a frown creasing his brow.

He could not concentrate on anything for thinking of her.

She was on his mind every goddamned minute of the day.

He wanted her constantly. And felt like a schoolboy with his first crush. He had never been that boy. In fact, he had never been young, he recalled bitterly. Growing up, his main task in life was to escape his mother's drunken and heavy hands.

Girls were the last thing on his mind. It wasn't until he was in his twenties that he started fooling around and then it had been with prostitutes. Tossing back the drink to get rid of the bitterness, he realized he had not told her anything about himself.

And if they were going to be a couple... the thought skidded through his mind and had him stumbling back.

He wanted to marry her. A derisive laugh escaped him. After avoiding the trap of matrimony, he was contemplating it. More than that, he was relishing it, eager to make her his. He wanted her. The woman was like a fever in his blood, and he could not get enough of her.

Finishing the drink, he turned towards the desk and went to answer the intercom.

"They're waiting for you."

"I think I'm ready. I'm assuming you brought some clothing with you?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Stop playing games with me, Courtney."

"I don't appreciate your tone."

He hung up from her. Grabbing his files, he marched towards the doors and flung them open, ready for battle. "You're coming home with me. I suggest you take some time to go home and grab clothing you want to wear for the morning."

Her tapered brows lifted as she looked up from her typing. "I did not hear a request in that sentence. You might be my boss, but you're not my father. In fact, I don't know who my father is, you should know that right now."

"Since we're discussing paternity, my old man left when I was barely out of diapers. But that's neither here nor there." He was pissed with her, but mostly with himself. He had allowed her to have power over him, and he did not like it one bit.

"You're coming home with me tonight and spending the night. I'm not asking."

"You think because we have sex..."

She edged back in the chair as he took several threatening steps towards her. "You don't want to test me. Not now." His voice was dangerously soft. "You will not win." His gold eyes were molten dark with temper. "I cannot get enough of you, and I don't intend to spend a night without you."

"Go home and pack a bag, Courtney, or run the chance of coming here tomorrow morning wearing the same outfit. Your choice." Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked out, leaving her fuming.

The nerve of the man! Shoving from the desk, she grabbed a file at random and pulled open the steel file cabinet. She was leafing through the files when she heard someone behind her. Thinking it was him coming back for round two, she whirled, dark eyes glittering.

"Whoa there!" Donald held up his hands and approached the rest of the way cautiously. "Whatever you heard, I did not do it."

"I'm sorry." She suddenly felt dizzy and sick to her stomach. Dropping into the chair, she took a deep breath.

"Does your mood have anything to do with our esteemed boss?" He sat on the edge of her desk. "I mentioned something to him, and he almost bit my head off. What's up with him?"

She almost blurted out that she was the cause of his fury. Although what he was so angry about was beyond her.

"The usual."

"He pissed you off."

"He's very good at that. Did you need something?"

"Always. I'm here to drop off some info and as a bonus, I get to see you." His friendly smile settled her frayed nerves and within minutes he had her laughing at some of the antics in his department.