Page 23 of Nothing to You (Nothing to… #7)

THE COFFEE HAD to go faster. It wasn’t that she was desperate to drink it, just watching it drip through was driving her nutty.

Impatience was not a virtue, but she had plenty of it.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee,” she muttered, bending at the waist to get closer to the pot. Maybe proximity would speed it up. “Mornings mean coffee. Even on a Saturday. Play nice, huh?”

A knock at the door straightened her up. A visitor? Who would look for her there? Roxie maybe. Was it too early in the day for Rox?

Franco came walking in the second the door was out of the frame. “I was thinking about the theme thing.”

“Please, Franco, come inside.”

As she turned, it seemed to dawn on her colleague that she was only wearing a shirt.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be up.”

“I am up,” she said, going back to the coffee machine. “My coffee is on a go slow.”

“Did you read my proposal?”

“Yes,” she said, propping her elbows on the counter, supporting her head on her fists. “I think so. Which one was yours?”

They had read them all. It wasn’t like they’d completely slacked off all night. Though the details were always second to his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

“I said the eighties,” he said, his voice moved further away to the other side of the breakfast bar. “Pop music, Madonna, you know?”

“She prefers Cyndi Lauper.” That was Rourke. Obviously, the boss was joining them. A yawn followed the words, and he smacked her ass hard. “Took my toy out of bed.”

“We’re waiting for coffee,” she said, her jaw staying on her fists. “Why don’t I have one of those bean to cup machines we have at the house?”

“I don’t know. Why did we sleep here last night?”

In only black boxers, he opened the fridge to grab juice that he drank straight from the bottle.

“He builds a multibillion dollar multinational but can’t figure out how to use a glass.”

She snatched the juice from his lips, leaving him with a dribble on his chin. Snagging the back of his neck, she yanked him down to clean it up with the tip of her tongue.

“I know how you like to school me, Mistress,” he said, reaching for her ass, but she swerved out of the way and put the juice on the counter. “When we going back to bed?”

“We have a guest,” she said, folding her arms to lean back on the counter in front of the coffee. “Franco wants to talk about the party.” Though he was kind of slack-jawed. “Who likes Cyndi Lauper?”

“Thought you were talking about Rox,” he said. “On the Madonna score, she does an amazing ‘Material Girl’ number.”

“She does not.”

“Calling me a liar?” he asked, grabbing an apple from the bowl on top of the fridge.

“Unless you can prove it, yeah. When did you see her—”

“On stage at her birthday gig.” He took a big bite of the apple and spoke around it. “Bet there’s footage somewhere. Seduce Z, he’ll show you.”

“You can’t hack it for me?”

“I could, but my way’s funnier.” He nodded at Franco. “Who’s this guy again?”

“A loyal employee. Ignore him, Franco. He aims for funny and misses every time.”

Leaning in, Rourke buried his face in her hair. “There’s one spot I hit every time,” he grumbled.

When his hand swung toward her panties, she swatted it away. “You wanted to change something?”

But her colleague’s mind was elsewhere. “What about…” Franco said. “What I said about… Joyner?”

“Who’s Joyner?” Rourke asked. “Darts Man?”

“No, that was a one-night thing, and that’s not what he meant.”

“What did he mean?” Rourke asked, slipping his hand into her shirt to caress her breast, scooping her body in front of his.

She stepped away from him, not away from him because it was him, but toward Franco, the breakfast bar still between them.

“Franco, you’re a great guy, and we can totally grab a drink sometime,” she said. “Screwing Rourke does not change my availability.”

Although it didn’t help that he came up behind her and crouched to hold her hips.

“Good luck to the guy who follows my example,” her arrogant friend said. “But I’ll let you take her for a spin around the block if you’ve got something I want.”

Her head turned ninety degrees. “What does he have that you want? And who gave you the right to pimp me out?”

“My house, my car, my building, your employment—”

“Oh,” she said, spinning on the spot to glare. “I should be grateful?”

“You’re beholden to me.”

“Far from it,” she said, serious in the face of his amusement. “Just because I allow you the privilege of pleasuring my body, does not give you the right to own or control it.”

“What about the credit card?”

“No.”

“The sushi?”

“No sushi is worth my self-respect.”

“My charming personality?”

“Maybe if you had one.”

“Because I’m male and superior to you?” His eyes glittered as they flared, daring her even as he addressed Franco. “Get ready for fireworks, loyal employee. You might need goggles and a cup for what she’s brewing.”

“Superior to me?” she spat back at him. “You’re inferior to the coffee in that machine; I need it more than I need you. Superior? Men like you delude themselves into believing they are superior to make themselves feel better about their weakness.”

“I’m weak?”

“If you’re one of those males, you are.”

“Didn’t I prove that last night?”

“That you’re male and weak? Yes. Only weak men find it necessary to exert dominance over women. Only weak men are threatened by strong women. Only weak men—”

“Ah! Shit, I get it. You need me to show you!” He stepped right up close, sandwiching her between him and the breakfast bar. Bending his knees on either side of hers, he crouched lower, leveling their eyes. “To take you to your happy place.”

“I don’t need you for anything.”

But when he skimmed both hands onto her upper chest beneath the shirt and scooped the fabric over to the back of her shoulders, exposing them, he proved he didn’t need permission. And then he started working on the buttons. One, then the other, and the next…

“You want me for something though,” he murmured, his low voice thick and smooth.

Fuck him. Her lumbar trembled with the tickle of anticipation that accentuated the arch of her spine. “You don’t deserve to touch me.”

“Be a good little woman and submit to your superior.”

“Like hell!” she said and tried to shove him away.

He shoved back harder, pushing the small of her back into the harsh angle of the counter. When his fingers curled slowly around her jaw to tip her head back, he held her lips in place to trace his across them.

Damn him. She jerked up, grabbing his lower lip in her teeth.

A rumbling groan shook his throat. That strain on his control put a smug smile on her face. If she wanted it, he did too. Neither of them lost, they both won. Though she didn’t mind reminding him of her altruism.

Snatching her hips, he spun her around. “We’re gonna do it whether you stand there and watch or not, employee,” Rourke said, bending her over the counter. “Get! Go on. Shoo!”

Franco bolted, dashing away before the door slammed.

“That was rude. Xavie—”

“Stop talking…” he prodded her ass with the head of his dick, “or I’ll put this in your mouth, and I won’t be any gentler.”

No, never. Gentle wasn’t what she wanted. Her desire came when—slamming himself into her, he didn’t take the time to test or tease her. His groan let loose when he was up to the hilt and a shiver went through both of them.

“I felt that.”

“Quiet. There’s etiquette for being a billionaire’s whore.”

“Good thing I’m not one,” she said, stretching her arms across the counter. “Do your work, Boy Scout, and maybe you’ll get a cookie after.”

She didn’t have cookies or know where the apple had gone, but fuck, he filled her up in all the right ways.