Indecent Suggestion by Elizabeth Bevarly

“We can’t. Not here. Not now. Not like this.”
    Her disappointment was almost palpable. “Yes, we can,” she insisted breathlessly, crowding against him again. “Please, Turner. I need you. I want you. I want your cock inside me. Now .”
    She moved her hand between his legs this time, finding his dick and rubbing it hard. He cried out at the fire that shot through him, but somehow managed to grasp her wrist and pull her hand away.
    Her eyes, still dark with her passion, clouded over. “Please,” she whispered again.
    He shook his head. And told her again, “No, Becca. Not like this.”
    “But—”
    “McCloud! Mercer!”
    “Oh, shit,” Turner said when he heard the booming voice of their employer.
    Without thinking, he jumped up from his chair, taking Becca with him. She nearly fell to the floor, but he caught her and set her upright, his fingers curled around her bare arms, her naked breasts shuddering. Before he had a chance to say another word, she pushed herself up on tiptoe and covered his mouth with hers, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him close.
    She still wanted to do it, even with their boss within shouting distance. What the hell had gotten into her?
    Through no small effort, Turner disentangled himself from her half-naked body and set her at arm’s length, holding her there firmly when she obviously wanted to lunge forward again.
    “It’s Englund, Becca,” he hissed, as loudly as he dared. “Our boss, remember? Get dressed. I’ll stall him.”
    She didn’t seem to have heard a word he said, becauseshe reached for him again. “I don’t care who it is, Turner, I want you. Now.”
    “Get dressed,” he told her again, more forcefully this time. “We’ll talk about this later.”
    “McCloud! Mercer!”
    Englund’s voice was closer now, and still Becca made no move to do as Turner had instructed.
    “Do you promise we’ll talk later?” she asked.
    “Yes,” he told her.
    “And then we can make love?”
    Good God, what was going on? “If you still want to, yes,” he told her. Though at that point, he would have said anything to get Becca to cooperate.
    “It better not be too much later,” she muttered.
    “Get dressed,” he said for the last time. And without even waiting to see if she followed his instructions, he turned and headed out of her cubicle, calling, “Right here, Mr. Englund! Sorry! We were working so hard on the Bluestocking pitch, we didn’t even know you were here….”
     
    T URNER WAS A TEASE .
    A tempter.
    A breaker of promises.
    A liar.
    Yet, still, she wanted him.
    Needed him.
    Hungered for him.
    Burned for him.
    As Becca lay awake in her bed—alone—tossing and turning and practically on fire with her unsatisfied desires and her unfulfilled needs… Or would they be unfulfilled desires and unsatisfied needs? she wondered vaguely. Oh,well. No matter. ’Cause she had all of ’em, honey, and it was no picnic, that was for sure, and if she didn’t get some relief soon, she was going to…to…to…
    Where was she?
    Oh, yeah. As she lay awake in bed—and had she mentioned she was alone?—tossing and turning and practically on fire with her unfulfilled and unsatisfied…stuff, all she could think about was Turner. About how incredibly sexy Turner had been this evening. About how much she’d wanted Turner. About how much she’d needed Turner. About how incredible it had felt to be in Turner’s arms. About how exquisitely Turner had touched her and tasted her. About how awful and horrible and despicable and nasty and evil it had been that she’d been prevented from having Turner right there in her cubicle because Englund had decided to work late, too, to supervise their progress on their pitch. About how Englund had walked down to the parking garage with both of them so that they’d had to leave in their separate cars without making any plans to meet later.
    About how, when Becca had called Turner to invite him over as soon as she’d arrived