the day?’
‘We’re only just getting started,’ he murmured against her neck, his hot, moist kisses sending shivers of need through her.
‘Now you’re talking.’
She wanted this, wanted him desperate and panting for her, unable to get enough.
But she couldn’t dismiss her conscience all together.
‘You make that conference call to London yet?’
‘Forget about the conference call.’
She couldn’t agree more.
‘Good attitude.’
With a wide sweep of her arm she sent the documents covering the desk crashing to the floor, enjoying the clatter of pens against the polished wood.
‘Wow, I’ve always wanted to do that.’
‘And I’ve always wanted to do this.’
She’d expected him to be annoyed to have his precious work strewn across the floor. Instead he picked her up, placed her butt on the desk and ripped open her cover-all.
‘Hey! That’s the only cover-all I own.’
‘Tough. Besides, you won’t need it. I much prefer you strutting around in a bikini anyway.’
‘I like the way you think.’
‘And I love the way you feel.’
His fingertips skated across her skin, dippingbetween her breasts, teasing her nipples through the bikini bra.
‘And taste.’
He dipped his head, his mouth replacing his hands, nipping the swell of her breasts, tender little bites that tore a low moan from her throat.
‘And sound.’
His mouth covered hers in a blistering kiss that reached down to her soul and beyond, and she gave herself over to the mind-blowing pleasure of making love with a master hell-bent on her pleasure.
Thanks to Callum, she’d discovered more about her body, about sensual pleasure, than she’d ever dreamed possible.
A small part of her had thought the lacklustre sex with Sergio had been her fault, but Callum had blasted that misconception with every expert touch of his hands, his tongue.
She couldn’t get enough—couldn’t get enough of him.
When he’d untied her top, he feasted on her breasts for an inordinate amount of time until she writhed and groaned beneath him, begging for more.
When he peeled off her bikini bottoms she lay splayed on the desk, not caring how wanton she looked, desperate for him—all of him.
And when he finally plunged into her, again and again and again, each time harder and deeper than the last, she came apart within moments.
‘That was unbelievable.’
He collapsed against her, held her close, her legswrapped tightly around his waist, the welcome hardness of him still buried within her, and for a long, exquisite moment in time she found the security she’d always craved.
Callum perused the same spreadsheet for the tenth time in the last few minutes, his mind wandering from the figures at hand to the figure he’d like in his hands.
He’d never been this distracted, had never allowed anything or anyone to distract from his goals. And his goals were clear: make Cartwright Corporation the number one financial institute in the country, be a suitable stand-in for Archie, stay in control always.
Right now his goals were teetering.
Bringing Starr to Hayman Island had been a bad move, and if he continued dwelling on her business would suffer.
He wanted her, every second of every day.
Madness.
He was obsessed with her, would find his mind drifting as she took notes, would find erotic memories filtering across his mind while discussing an agenda.
His fabled control was shot, along with any chance he had of fooling himself this was nothing but a fling.
Working together, playing together this last week, had him craving her more than ever.
Which begged the question: what would happen when they returned to Melbourne, she inevitably found a job in dance, and left?
What then?
He didn’t do relationships, couldn’t promise a woman anything beyond physical pleasure. Getting emotionally involved wasn’t an option.
So how the hell had he landed in this predicament?
He snapped to attention the second Starr entered the conference room,
‘We’re only just getting started,’ he murmured against her neck, his hot, moist kisses sending shivers of need through her.
‘Now you’re talking.’
She wanted this, wanted him desperate and panting for her, unable to get enough.
But she couldn’t dismiss her conscience all together.
‘You make that conference call to London yet?’
‘Forget about the conference call.’
She couldn’t agree more.
‘Good attitude.’
With a wide sweep of her arm she sent the documents covering the desk crashing to the floor, enjoying the clatter of pens against the polished wood.
‘Wow, I’ve always wanted to do that.’
‘And I’ve always wanted to do this.’
She’d expected him to be annoyed to have his precious work strewn across the floor. Instead he picked her up, placed her butt on the desk and ripped open her cover-all.
‘Hey! That’s the only cover-all I own.’
‘Tough. Besides, you won’t need it. I much prefer you strutting around in a bikini anyway.’
‘I like the way you think.’
‘And I love the way you feel.’
His fingertips skated across her skin, dippingbetween her breasts, teasing her nipples through the bikini bra.
‘And taste.’
He dipped his head, his mouth replacing his hands, nipping the swell of her breasts, tender little bites that tore a low moan from her throat.
‘And sound.’
His mouth covered hers in a blistering kiss that reached down to her soul and beyond, and she gave herself over to the mind-blowing pleasure of making love with a master hell-bent on her pleasure.
Thanks to Callum, she’d discovered more about her body, about sensual pleasure, than she’d ever dreamed possible.
A small part of her had thought the lacklustre sex with Sergio had been her fault, but Callum had blasted that misconception with every expert touch of his hands, his tongue.
She couldn’t get enough—couldn’t get enough of him.
When he’d untied her top, he feasted on her breasts for an inordinate amount of time until she writhed and groaned beneath him, begging for more.
When he peeled off her bikini bottoms she lay splayed on the desk, not caring how wanton she looked, desperate for him—all of him.
And when he finally plunged into her, again and again and again, each time harder and deeper than the last, she came apart within moments.
‘That was unbelievable.’
He collapsed against her, held her close, her legswrapped tightly around his waist, the welcome hardness of him still buried within her, and for a long, exquisite moment in time she found the security she’d always craved.
Callum perused the same spreadsheet for the tenth time in the last few minutes, his mind wandering from the figures at hand to the figure he’d like in his hands.
He’d never been this distracted, had never allowed anything or anyone to distract from his goals. And his goals were clear: make Cartwright Corporation the number one financial institute in the country, be a suitable stand-in for Archie, stay in control always.
Right now his goals were teetering.
Bringing Starr to Hayman Island had been a bad move, and if he continued dwelling on her business would suffer.
He wanted her, every second of every day.
Madness.
He was obsessed with her, would find his mind drifting as she took notes, would find erotic memories filtering across his mind while discussing an agenda.
His fabled control was shot, along with any chance he had of fooling himself this was nothing but a fling.
Working together, playing together this last week, had him craving her more than ever.
Which begged the question: what would happen when they returned to Melbourne, she inevitably found a job in dance, and left?
What then?
He didn’t do relationships, couldn’t promise a woman anything beyond physical pleasure. Getting emotionally involved wasn’t an option.
So how the hell had he landed in this predicament?
He snapped to attention the second Starr entered the conference room,
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