I want to lick these lips .
He absentmindedly brushed aside a lock of midnight-black hair when it fell over his eyes, smoothing out his stern and stiff stance. She wished she could repeat the gesture herself. To delve her hands into that hair and grip it to bring his head to her and kiss those dark-pink lips.
How could pink be so male? Sophia shook her head, as if to free herself from the spell that he had cast on her. But he had ensnared her in his trap. She turned to glance at Edward, who stood behind her, as if asking his permission. She bit her lip.
Permission? Permission to do what? She didn’t know. It seemed Edward knew, because he gave a small imperceptible nod.
She walked in the man’s direction. Step–by-step, as her high heels sank into the plush carpet, her body seemed to move in slow motion. Sophia became conscious of her light pink YSL dress with a large turquoise alligator belt.
Her hand ran down her stomach and thighs to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles of her dress. His eyes followed her movement, appraising her. She almost choked with the force of his lustful gaze.
Sophia halted less than two feet from him. Oh, my. He looks like a god, a perfect Roman statue in flesh, oozing raw sensuality… She craned her neck to look at his six foot six stature and his eyes. God! These eyes… They see through me. His mouth… It’s totally succulent… And it’s moving. Damn .
He spoke to her and she hadn’t understood a word.
She looked down and saw he had stretched out his hand to her. In a haze, she put her suddenly cold hand in his warm one and he closed his around hers. A shock flared her blood into lava.
“I-I’m sorry?” she stammered.
“Alistair Connor MacCraig, CEO of The City of London Bank. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he repeated and raised a devilish black eyebrow at her speechless state. Aye, it’s always the same. Another one falling for handsome features and body. Pity. But, fuck it. Wasn’t I bored? Why not have some fun? Showtime, Alistair Connor .
“Good morning, MacCraig. This is our-” Edward said from directly behind her.
“Sophia Santo.” Sophia recovered from her state of bewilderment and shook his hand.
A firm, pleasant handshake. Good . He eyed her again from head to toe.
“I’m head of the legal department at Leibowitz Oil, Mr. MacCraig. How do you do?”
“Head of the legal department?” Alistair’s smile waned. “Any problem with the contract, Davidoff?” He greeted Davidoff and motioned to the table. “Please, let’s sit. Mr. Wales will arrive any moment now. Could I offer any refreshments? Water, tea, coffee?” He pressed a button on the wireless telephone that sat on a side table.
“Coffee and water would be fine, thanks.” Sophia seated herself at the head of the table and received a startled gaze from Alistair that she countered with raised brows and an inquisitive look.
“Davidoff? Anything?”
“The same, please.”
While he asked for the refreshments, he noticed Sophia glancing at her watch and thinning her lips. He glanced at his. Damn. Wales is really late .
“Mr. MacCraig, Mr. Davidoff assured me that you were fully aware of the contract terms and that we could discuss them with you. Shall we start?”
He looked at Davidoff, who glared at her. “If it pleases you. So, Ms. Santo-”
“ Mrs . Santo,” she corrected him. “My points,” and she emphasized the plural, “are…” she raised her left hand to stress the points.
He noticed that her bare ring finger. Interesting! Mrs. Santo doesn’t wear a marriage band .
“-fees are too high; secondly, the guaranties asked are exaggerated; and lastly, the penalty clauses are absurd.” She took out four copies of the draft from her briefcase, handing one to him, the other to Edward, and kept two.
Hmm. Organized . His copy was all marked and noted. Her handwriting appeared neat, clean, and firm, with a touch of swirls showing her feminine side. The right amount of
He absentmindedly brushed aside a lock of midnight-black hair when it fell over his eyes, smoothing out his stern and stiff stance. She wished she could repeat the gesture herself. To delve her hands into that hair and grip it to bring his head to her and kiss those dark-pink lips.
How could pink be so male? Sophia shook her head, as if to free herself from the spell that he had cast on her. But he had ensnared her in his trap. She turned to glance at Edward, who stood behind her, as if asking his permission. She bit her lip.
Permission? Permission to do what? She didn’t know. It seemed Edward knew, because he gave a small imperceptible nod.
She walked in the man’s direction. Step–by-step, as her high heels sank into the plush carpet, her body seemed to move in slow motion. Sophia became conscious of her light pink YSL dress with a large turquoise alligator belt.
Her hand ran down her stomach and thighs to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles of her dress. His eyes followed her movement, appraising her. She almost choked with the force of his lustful gaze.
Sophia halted less than two feet from him. Oh, my. He looks like a god, a perfect Roman statue in flesh, oozing raw sensuality… She craned her neck to look at his six foot six stature and his eyes. God! These eyes… They see through me. His mouth… It’s totally succulent… And it’s moving. Damn .
He spoke to her and she hadn’t understood a word.
She looked down and saw he had stretched out his hand to her. In a haze, she put her suddenly cold hand in his warm one and he closed his around hers. A shock flared her blood into lava.
“I-I’m sorry?” she stammered.
“Alistair Connor MacCraig, CEO of The City of London Bank. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he repeated and raised a devilish black eyebrow at her speechless state. Aye, it’s always the same. Another one falling for handsome features and body. Pity. But, fuck it. Wasn’t I bored? Why not have some fun? Showtime, Alistair Connor .
“Good morning, MacCraig. This is our-” Edward said from directly behind her.
“Sophia Santo.” Sophia recovered from her state of bewilderment and shook his hand.
A firm, pleasant handshake. Good . He eyed her again from head to toe.
“I’m head of the legal department at Leibowitz Oil, Mr. MacCraig. How do you do?”
“Head of the legal department?” Alistair’s smile waned. “Any problem with the contract, Davidoff?” He greeted Davidoff and motioned to the table. “Please, let’s sit. Mr. Wales will arrive any moment now. Could I offer any refreshments? Water, tea, coffee?” He pressed a button on the wireless telephone that sat on a side table.
“Coffee and water would be fine, thanks.” Sophia seated herself at the head of the table and received a startled gaze from Alistair that she countered with raised brows and an inquisitive look.
“Davidoff? Anything?”
“The same, please.”
While he asked for the refreshments, he noticed Sophia glancing at her watch and thinning her lips. He glanced at his. Damn. Wales is really late .
“Mr. MacCraig, Mr. Davidoff assured me that you were fully aware of the contract terms and that we could discuss them with you. Shall we start?”
He looked at Davidoff, who glared at her. “If it pleases you. So, Ms. Santo-”
“ Mrs . Santo,” she corrected him. “My points,” and she emphasized the plural, “are…” she raised her left hand to stress the points.
He noticed that her bare ring finger. Interesting! Mrs. Santo doesn’t wear a marriage band .
“-fees are too high; secondly, the guaranties asked are exaggerated; and lastly, the penalty clauses are absurd.” She took out four copies of the draft from her briefcase, handing one to him, the other to Edward, and kept two.
Hmm. Organized . His copy was all marked and noted. Her handwriting appeared neat, clean, and firm, with a touch of swirls showing her feminine side. The right amount of
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