Naughty Bits: Too Hot to Print by Rebecca Chance

shot over to answer Jacob’s
summons.
    ‘Two glasses of the Pol Roger,’ he ordered. ‘We’ve got a celebration on our hands here.’
    The champagne arrived almost instantly. Jacob touched his glass to Victoria’s; she had recovered enough by now to lift her own and clink back.
    ‘To the new editor of US Style ,’ Jacob toasted.
    Victoria barely ever allowed champagne to touch her lips. The first taste was deliciously intoxicating, forbidden fruit, sweet and golden, peaches and almonds in a glass. She set the glass down
before she was tempted to finish it in one go.
    ‘Was that a test?’ she asked. ‘One of the games you play with yourself, Jacob – like those chess problems you love?’
    ‘Why, Vicky, whatever could you mean?’ Jacob asked, smiling, one arm thrown along the leather back of the banquette.
    ‘I know you,’ she said. ‘You and your tests. I think you meant to give me the job all along, as long as I fought hard enough tonight.’
    Jacob’s smile deepened, but he didn’t say a word.
    ‘I learned that from you,’ Victoria said, taking a delicate mouthful of steak tartare; it was delicious. ‘How to test people. I remember every single one of the tests you put
me through.’
    ‘And you passed every one,’ Jacob said with great satisfaction, taking a handful of frites. ‘From the very start, when you were a little slip of a thing barely out of your
teens.’ He looked at her fondly. ‘You had no hips at all, honey.’
    ‘Just the way you like them, Jacob,’ Victoria said dryly.
    She was overwhelmed with excitement at having achieved her goal, adrenalin flooding through her veins like liquid silver. But she knew she had to act cool; Jacob didn’t like women who
gushed or sobbed or displayed any emotional excesses.
    ‘Uh-huh,’ Jacob said, quite unfazed. ‘Just the way I like them.’
    He reached out and squeezed Victoria’s leg briefly, high up, his large hand sliding under the hem of her mini-skirt, almost wrapping entirely round her narrow upper thigh. It reminded her
of a trainer she knew assessing a new piece of horseflesh, squeezing the horse’s flanks, checking them for strength and alignment. Victoria smiled, proud of how well she’d kept her
figure; she’d been an American size zero ever since she’d moved to the States and promptly slimmed down to what Manhattan considered an ideal weight.
    ‘You haven’t put on a pound,’ he said appreciatively. ‘Not a single pound. Good girl.’
    His hand lingered for a moment, his index finger reaching up just a little further, tracing slow seductive circles under her skirt, an intimate caress completely concealed from any passing
waiter, anyone at the facing tables. The circles widened, deepened, his hand radiating heat, his finger just grazing the lace trim of her silk Myla French knickers; he flicked his fingertip against
the lace, once, twice, a little tease, but also a gesture of control.
    I know what underwear you have on , his gesture said. I can touch it if I want .
    And Victoria’s body responded. Her thighs relaxed on the banquette, easing apart just fractionally, her groin dipping down, demonstrating to Jacob that his clever, caressing fingers were
having the effect he wanted. It was as if he had stroked a cat just enough to coax it into rich, heavy, satisfied purring before he removed his hand. Giving her leg a pat of approval, he returned
to eating his main course with a complacent expression on his full lips.
    How very Jacob, Victoria thought, raising her own fork to stir capers and onions into her finely-minced steak, tilting the quail’s egg yolk into the mixture and placing the empty shell on
the side of her plate. Her hand was perfectly steady, she was pleased to notice. He’s given me a hugely powerful position, and in return, he’s had his little dominant moment, made
the point that he has the ultimate power.
    Well, that’s fine with me. I’ve always been happy to play Jacob’s games; I’ve