Page 18 of Nothing to You (Nothing to… #7)

IF ONLY IT WASN’T so damn interesting.

The Hope team didn’t appreciate her bailing on them. What choice did she have? Rourke might be a jerk of a friend, but he was still their boss.

Getting through the SIT files was a mammoth task. Especially given she wasn’t familiar with them or the pitches. She had less than forty-eight hours to get through something the original panel had six days to absorb and process.

She worked in Rourke’s office for a couple of hours before packing up. Spreading out at his house would be a better option. At least there, people wouldn’t push into the office to ask if she had permission to be there.

And he could supply sushi. She didn’t know where it came from, but whatever delicacies she requested always somehow showed up at his house right on time.

Dragging the boxes out of the car… the car, that was how she thought of it because technically, it didn’t belong to her.

But it was the easiest way to get between work and Rourke’s.

She’d never given him the keys back. In her defense, he’d never asked for them.

Until he did, they’d live with her. Like they had joint custody.

Didn’t seem like much to ask with her being orally available to him night after night.

More than orally, but the other ways were more mutually enjoyable, so she was fair not to count them as credit to be repaid.

Her laptop was inside the top box. It would be a long night. She went inside, past the stairs and restrooms to go to the hallway that led straight through to the kitchen at the back of the house. The stairs to Rourke’s man cave were halfway along it. His desk should be big enough for—

“…give it another week.” His voice carried from the kitchen.

She dumped the boxes on the stairs and went to see him.

“I will, guy. I will…” He was on the phone and raised his brows when he saw her.

Mmm, in sweats and a tee-shirt, he made an interesting view.

How horny did she have to be to notice that or to be tempted by such little effort?

“Yep. Thanks.” He hung up and slid his phone onto the counter. “Have a good day?”

“Overall?” she asked, taking off her jacket. “I think Johann’s pissed at you.”

“What did I do?”

“No, actually, I don’t think he’s pissed at you.” She went to the perpendicular edge of the counter his flat hands rested on. “I know he is.”

“Good. I must be doing something right. Want a drink?”

She shook her head, buying time to yawn. “I don’t want to lose my momentum.”

“Your momentum, huh?”

Bending over, her elbows met the counter before her forearms. “I would’ve stayed at the office if it wasn’t for people gawping at me in your prized space. I was like a damn exhibit at the aquarium. How often do you let people, other than you, use your office?”

“Mmm…” he pondered, his eyes rising for a second. “Don’t think I ever have.” She just smiled and let her upper body sink down to the counter too. The cool marble chilled her, but that was okay, she needed the stimulation. “Tired?”

“No,” she said and stretched out her arms. “I am eager to get out of these clothes though.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” he said with swagger and reached around to snag her hips. “Let me help you.”

She laughed as he dragged her around the corner of the counter, pushing her down again when she tried to straighten up.

“Xavie—”

“You only call me Xavie when we’re having sex,” he said, his fingers gathering her pencil skirt up to ease it over her ass. No matter he hadn’t given her a chance to say more. “I must be behind schedule.”

“To take the skirt off, typically, it goes down,” she said over her shoulder.

“Huh,” he said, hooking his fingers into the band of her underwear to slide it down. “Like this?”

She laughed again. “Always get your way, don’t you, Mr. Rourke?”

“I do,” he said, massaging her clit. “Right now, that’s working out for you.”

It was. So much for not losing her momentum.

Her hips moved as he aroused her; more than a few blissful whimpers left her lips.

When he dipped his fingers into her, she pushed back.

He was only checking if she was ready, but wasn’t she always whenever he worked on her?

It never took long for him to heat her up.

“Xavie,” she whispered, opening her mouth against her arm.

“I love it when you make things about sex.”

A laugh almost threatened, but she lost it when his cock pushed into her. Wasn’t so funny when it felt so good.

“Shit,” she whispered, her eyes closing tight as he advanced at a delectable pace. “That feels so good.”

“Mm,” he agreed, pushing his fingers up her spine, arching her hips further. “Your pussy takes it good, baby.”

Trying to push back, she was stalled by him grabbing her hips. “Fuck me, Boy Scout. Make some effort.”

His groan of approval was a prelude to giving her exactly what she wanted. Pulling back only to slam in, he forced her hips to advance and retreat as he drove into her. Yes! Shocked delight burst out of her in a yelp the second he hit her g-spot. Oh, shit, she hadn’t expected that, but, fuck…

Taking control, complete control, he yanked her so high that her toes almost left the floor.

Fighting him didn’t occur to her.

Not right then.

“Fuck, Xavie,” she squealed. One palm landed on the counter as her other hand snaked between them to massage her clit. “Like that, right there. Oh, fuck. Fuck!”

Maybe he wasn’t in charge. Everything she asked for, she got.

He knew just how to hit her right, how to tease and satisfy her at exactly the same time.

But she was a thing to him right then. A tool to deliver him to his pleasure.

He hammered into her over and over, using her like he might a sex toy in the privacy of his personal space.

Her pussy swallowed his cock over and over, every minute craving more while climbing closer to the pinnacle of pleasure.

“Xa—Xavie!” she screeched as it consumed her, pulling her under, smothering her.

She couldn’t breathe but didn’t try. He fulfilled every part of her being when he spilled himself within her. That was it. What both of them needed.

As he growled and stilled, he smacked her ass and released her hips. She didn’t move. Even when he slid out, leaving her draped across the counter, she just sighed in bliss.

“Okay, that didn’t help my momentum,” she murmured.

He drew her panties back up her legs and pushed her skirt down too. Wasn’t like him to be dressing her or worried about things like decency or dignity. Whatever. She had work to do.

“All clear?”

She rose a fraction. That was a male voice. Not Rourke’s.

“Yeah, you’re good,” Rourke said.

Planting her hands on the counter, she straightened her arms only to lose all muscle tone when Zairn Lomond came wandering into the room.

“Are you shitting me?” she asked, standing up just as Rourke raised a glass of wine into her line of sight.

“Evening, Roux,” Zairn said like he hadn’t just overheard his buddy screwing her. “Nice to see you again.”

Snatching the glass, her glare landed on Rourke. “You’re fucking me with our would-be donor in the next room?”

“He’ll donate,” Rourke said, beer in hand. “And he doesn’t care about sex. That’s Zairn Lomond, playboy extraordinaire.” The men shared a smile. “You should throw a party for Hope, Radley. Stuff those coffers. Expand those contacts.”

“I can’t throw a party until I have my consortium.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Rourke said.

“You don’t need a consortium,” Zairn said, sitting at the separate long island that had held the buffet the night of the party. “You just need the right foundation beneath you.”

“Our track record isn’t great so far,” she said. “Not easy to impress people when you’re set up to have sex within twenty paces of them.”

Zairn frowned. “Roux, I apologize if—”

“She doesn’t care about the sex,” Rourke said. “She doesn’t mind an audience.”

“I don’t care about my opinion of me,” she said because he was right that she didn’t care about the sex. “How do I tell my group we’re fucked on this because I got fucked—”

“You’re not fucked, not that way,” he said, resting a hand on the counter to lean in. “Zairn likes people who like sex.”

“Do I?”

“Sure,” Rourke said. “Kyst likes it, doesn’t she? You’re always fucking at it.” The seated billionaire bobbed his head on a blink, a concession maybe. “With you, Kintyre, and Collier living in close quarters, I’m surprised it hasn’t been going on twenty-four seven.”

“Lilya thinks we’re back in college.”

Rourke laughed. “That’s funny.”

“Why is that funny?” she asked but was ignored.

“The food on its way?”

“Yeah,” Zairn said and looked at his watch. “I don’t know what—”

Noise from the front of the house stalled him.

“Casanova!” a woman hollered.

Zairn smiled and called back. “We’re in the kitchen.”

Something hit the floor, many somethings maybe, and there was a shuffle before the clack of heels came closer.

“What the hell’s she been doing all day?”

On a head shake, Zairn raised an innocent hand. “I gave up asking months ago.”

Rourke laughed but stopped abruptly. “Wow,” he exhaled, his mouth opening as he nodded from his friend to the gorgeous blonde who just walked in.

“You like it?” the woman asked.

“He like what?” Zairn asked and twisted to look over his shoulder, only to then turn his whole body that way. “Wow.”

Mirroring Rourke’s sentiment, Zairn seemed as surprised.

“What do you think?” the blonde asked, shaking her hair.

“I…” Zairn started. “Um… Why did we do this?”

“Why not?” the woman asked, going over to lay a hand on him and lean in. “Thought men preferred blondes.”

“If you love it, I love it,” Zairn said, kissing the beauty. “Do the cuffs match or…”

The blonde swept her lips back and forth on his. “You’ll have to wait until later to find out, Casanova.”

“Later, huh?”

“If you play your cards right.”

“I have a few minutes now if—”

“Don’t we have company?”

Not that an audience mattered, as Rourke demonstrated not long ago.

“Company, right,” Zairn said, slipping an arm around the woman as he turned back to them. “Roux Radley, this is Roxanna Kyst. She prefers Roxie.”

“Your fiancée,” she said and received a nod. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh,” Roxie said and shuddered. “Roxie is fine. I am not a fan of the ma’am thing.”

“Sorry,” she said and drew in a deep breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

But when she tried to walk away, Rourke caught her shoulder to pull her back. “Do we want to eat outside or inside?”

“Outside,” Roxie said, resting her lips on Zairn. “I don’t have a drink, dear.”

“Right,” Zairn said, rising to take his fiancée’s hand to lead her outside just as a bunch of suited servers came streaming into the kitchen from somewhere.

“Outside,” Rourke said to the guy in the lead. “Follow the blonde.”

The people came through with boxes and went onto the patio. One opened the pocket doors.

Rourke pulled her back, resting his mouth on her crown. “Schmooze.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hang out with me and my friends.”

“I have work to do.”

“This is more important,” he said, threading his fingers between hers. “Trust me.”

“Trust you?” she asked, letting him pull her across the room. “That hasn’t worked out so well for me so far.”

He flashed her a smile. “There’s always a first time.”

Hmm, maybe. Trust him? To what? She shouldn’t be drinking wine and hanging out while two boxes of files sat on the stairs waiting for her.

SIT was important, and she wanted to do the job well.

If someone fell through the cracks or she was too distracted to notice a worthy cause, it could make a difference.

Trust him? He’d been the one to give her the work, and now he was telling her to disregard it. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was up to something.