One Night with Her Brooding Boss: Ruthless Boss, Dream Baby / Her Impossible Boss / The Secretary’s Bossman Bargain

‘I don’t need to go to those lengths.’

‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

‘Yes, I am,’ Quinn agreed.

The breath caught in her throat as he drew her close. Her back was to the table and Quinn’s firm thigh was between her legs. She was so aroused, his lightest touch was all it took to make her tremble with awareness. ‘I should go.’

‘No, lady, you should come.’

As Quinn moved against her, she groaned deep down in her throat. What was the use of pretending she didn’t want this? Quinn’s touch was firm and sure, and he gave her the kisses she was aching for, stoking the hunger inside her until she was moving urgently against him in the hunt for more contact, more pressure, more sensation. The aching need grew inside her until it dominated her thoughts and occupied her womb where she longed for Quinn to fill her. He had woken a slumbering appetite and it was clamouring to be fed.

‘I want you,’ she gasped, winding her fingers through his hair so she could pin him to her. Thrusting her body into his, she relished the sensation of his steel against her silk, his muscle against her softly yielding flesh. She was greedy for his lips and rubbed her cheek against his, loving the rasp of his cruel black stubble against her tender skin.

‘Not here. Not now,’ he said huskily, lifting her.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Though she was sure she knew. Not in the kitchen, not the first time. The first time was far too special for that.

When Quinn dipped his head and kissed her again, the question became redundant. He took her mouth with a breath-stealing lack of urgency as if he had all night to tease and arouse her. ‘Do you remember what I promised you?’ he murmured.

That he would make love to her? She would hardly forget a thing like that. She might have had her hang-ups back in the real world, but here in the sixties her body ached for Quinn all the more, knowing his plan. ‘Just promise me one thing.’

‘I promise to pleasure you until you fall asleep exhausted in my arms.’

One final thud of anxiety beat in her heart at the thought of disappointing him, but she pushed it aside. ‘I want something else.’

‘Greedy.’ Running the palm of his hand lightly over her hair, he continued stroking her, from cheek to neck, before brushing the swell of her breast and the imperative thrust of her nipple with a tantalisingly light touch.

‘Whatever happens between us,’ Magenta whispered, trying to catch her breath, ‘you won’t let it interfere with your plans for the business—the chance you’ve given the girls? ‘

‘They mean a lot to you, don’t they? ‘ Quinn murmured against her hair.

‘Loyalty means everything to me.’

‘Aren’t you concerned about your own position in the company?’

‘Of course I am, and if I fall short in any way I would expect you to ask me to leave. But not because of this—not because of us.’

‘Us?’

Quinn’s lips curved. Who knew what he was thinking? The only thing she could be sure about was the way she felt about Quinn.

He gave a dry laugh. ‘Do you really think I’m going to mark you out of ten and take that score forward from the bedroom to the office? Your job’s safe, Magenta; the company needs you. And, whatever happens between us, I’d be a fool not to consider what your colleagues have to offer. Reassured?’ Quinn demanded. ‘You should relax more and worry less.’

That might be possible if she had any useful experience in the bedroom department. ‘I won’t be any good.’

‘You’re going to be very good,’ Quinn argued. ‘I’m going to make sure of it.’

Quinn’s lips were firm and tempting and the expression in his eyes reassured her. She wanted everything he had to give her, starting with tenderness, Magenta decided as Quinn nuzzled her neck. No—starting with fun, she amended when he pulled back to smile his sexy, curving smile. No. That was wrong too. She wanted to feel safe like this, to feel the strength of a man as he lifted her in his arms.

Oh, to hell with it—she wanted sex with a man who knew what he was doing, Magenta conceded as Quinn carried her up the stairs.

Quinn’s bedroom was huge, warm and cosy, and was both neat and scrupulously clean. The scent of sandalwood hung in the air and the decor was tasteful—shades of cream, honey and chocolate—the perfect frame for Quinn, who kissed her firmly, skilfully, deeply. He lowered her onto linen sheets without pausing one instant. ‘Where did you learn to kiss like that?’ she demanded, smiling as she marvelled at his strength combined with such subtlety.

‘They produce some great self-help manuals these days.’

This was some dream, Magenta thought, laughing with him; she was going to enjoy every minute if it. Reaching up, she started on Quinn’s buttons. Pushing the shirt from his shoulders, she paused a moment to drink him in and wonder what she had done to deserve a dream like this. Quinn’s torso was lightly tanned and heavily muscled. He was magnificent—perfect. If she could bottle this dream and sell it on the open market, she could save her company back in the real world without any help from anyone.

‘You’re so beautiful.’ And she was so greedy for him. She tugged Quinn’s shirt from his waistband to feast her eyes on his belly, banded with muscle. All men should be like this, and if women ruled the world they would be.

Kicking off his shoes, Quinn joined her on the bed. Stretching out his length against her, he ran his fingers lightly down her arms.

Could anything else feel this good? But when Quinn dipped his head to kiss her she pressed her hands against his chest and made him wait. ‘Not yet. I want to look at you; I want to touch you—explore you.’ She was finding strength she’d never known she had and, luckily for her, Quinn was willing to indulge her.

She smiled as he tucked his arms behind his head. Inhibitions? Quinn had none. And if Magenta was ever to lose her own hang-ups it was here with this man, and it was now.

She knelt over him, brushing his naked chest with her hair. ‘Stay where you are,’ she commanded softly when he made to move. Trailing her fingers across his chest, and down over that hard band of muscle to the waistband of his jeans, she teased Quinn as he had teased her. Hearing his shuddering breaths aroused her even more.

‘And now it’s my turn.’

She gasped as Quinn swung her beneath him.

‘Trust me,’ he said, seeing her apprehension.

The bond between them was growing, Magenta realised, and she did trust him. She groaned as Quinn caressed her. He was so intuitive; his hands knew everything about her body and sensation was already throbbing between her thighs.

‘Is this your first time?’

She turned her face away from him. ‘No.’

‘Convince me,’ Quinn demanded.

‘I am worried.’

‘About what?’ he said. Cupping her chin, he made her look at him.

‘I might have healed up…’

He laughed; they both laughed.

‘You’re frightened I might hurt you?’

I’m more frightened of the way you make me feel, Magenta thought. ‘Not that—but I am frightened of losing control. I’m frightened of the sensation that builds inside me each time you touch me. I’m frightened of falling over the edge and never coming back. I’m frightened of experiencing something I can’t begin to cope with.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘This is going to sound so stupid to you.’

‘Try me,’ Quinn suggested wryly.