Falling For The Mob

42 Count

Sam

As my father's voice drones on through the speakers, my thoughts drift off to the naked woman I left sleeping in my bed. I would much prefer to be there than on a three-AM conference call with Paris.

For weeks, I have been in negotiations with Majestueux but have gotten nowhere. To them, I am nothing but the little girl sitting in Jack Claymore’s seat, making it impossible to get an agreeable deal. My reputation hasn’t crossed their borders, and as much as I wish that fear could coax them into agreeing, I am forced to seek help from my father.

From his home office, his role is to run interference if needed, but it seems they have other plans. For the last fifteen minutes, they made bland, humorless jokes that my father plays along with perfectly. He has always had a talent for convincing people of his sincerity. But I know better, the mere fact that they have him awake at this hour must be irritating him just as much as it irritates me.

A slight shift in the corner of my eye pulls my attention to the door, which opens on a crack. At this hour, there could only be one person wandering my halls. With half-opened eyes, she smiles at me when poking her head into my office.

Noticing I am alone, she begins walking toward me with the covers wrapped around her clearly still naked body. I should be focused on the conversation on the other end, but nothing can pull my attention from her. I shift, my thighs causing just a bit of friction. Within seconds, I am already turned on.

Silently, she takes a seat on my lap, leaning her body on my chest. “Having trouble sleeping again?” Her warm breath against my neck erupts in a wave of goosebumps as she whispers. Half asleep, she places a few kisses on my neck.

It may not have been her intention when walking in here, but the woman must be insane to not expect me to become tempted. Her tired smile is timid, innocent even, but it’s too late.

With a slight tug, I drop the sheets to the floor, and her cheeks immediately tint.

The voices coming from the speakers have long drowned into the background as my flat hand makes contact with her lower abdomen. The part of her I desire most is still hidden, buried under the sheets pooling around her waist, but I will get to that when I am ready.

She holds her breath as my hand moves up her stomach and between her breasts. The sudden exposure makes her nipples hard and begging to be tasted. As our eyes meet, I see hers have become darkened as she silently lets my hands move over her body. There is nothing innocent playing behind those eyes.

“You are distracting me from my work, Dr. DeLuca,” I whisper just loud enough for her to hear and soft enough that my microphone won’t pick anything up.

A challenging smile appears on her face. “Then send me away,” she whispers back.

Her boldnes sends a shock through my body, awakening something I have been trying to keep dormant. Could Zoë possibly be a brat? I would rather die than send her away at this moment. The potential alone has my mind racing. “You may stay as long as you behave.” My hand pinches her right nipple as I watch her eyes roll to the back of her head.

She leans back into me. “The bed is cold, Sam. You should come back to keep me warm.” She nuzzles her face back  into my neck, making my body temperature increase. She rarely makes direct advances like this.