Her Enemy With Benefits: Her Deal with the Devil / My Boyfriend and Other Enemies / Blind Date Rivals

‘Yeah, I’d love to be doing that to you right now, but this will have to suffice.’

He pushed the heel of his hand into her and she ground against it. It took several small, circular undulations of for her to come, her fingers digging into his thigh while she lifted off the chair slightly.

They never broke eye contact the entire time, so he saw everything. Her need, her passion, her release.

And it humbled him in a way he’d never dreamed possible.

If he’d thought he was in over his head last night, her response to him now made him feel like a drowning man without a chance of being saved.

The door creaked open and they sprang apart. She muttered underneath her breath: he tried to act as if wanting to tear this woman’s clothes off every time he saw her wasn’t all that unusual.

Sex…nothing more, nothing less. Maybe if he mentally recited it often enough he’d believe it.

He shot her a glance but she stared straight ahead, fixed on the models strutting through the room in preliminary designs, the pinkness of her cheeks the only giveaway sign that she wasn’t the same über-cool princess he remembered.

Fine, let them concentrate on business for now, but when they’d wrapped up here they needed to sort out where and when they were going to get this thing out of their system—for he had a feeling he wouldn’t be functioning on any useful level until he did.

Sapphie had learned from a young age to shield her real feelings.

The expectations associated with being the eldest child, the one with highest grades, the responsible one, had pretty much ensured she was under scrutiny as heir apparent to run Seaborns from the time she hit high school.

Maybe even before, considering her mum had spent every Saturday afternoon poring over the company’s finances and making Sapphie sit next to her.

When kids her age had been riding their scooters or playing netball on the weekend, she’d been tagging along on buying expeditions, or scouting the opposition, or hanging around at fancy tea parties, listening to her mum talk shop.

Sure, she’d learned to love Seaborns, and had strived to gain great grades to enter her chosen Economics and Management degree, but over the years it had become ingrained to maintain a calm outer persona. To pretend everything was right with the world. When in fact she’d had bad hair days and hated the school bully and crushed on the football captain.

That persona would serve her well now, when she had to sit next to Patrick during a preview and pretend he hadn’t just rocked her world again.

What he’d done…What she’d let him do…

Her fingers convulsed, digging into her thighs. She’d never been wild or wanton. Maybe that was her problem. When an experienced playboy like Patrick glanced sideways at her she was ready to jump him.

She blamed Ruby and all that talk of getting laid. Sure, it had been a while since she’d been with a guy, but she hadn’t really been interested, what with the fatigue.

Ironic that coming back to work and throwing herself into this campaign was all about physically proving she could handle leading Seaborns, but what if there was a better way to test her endurance? Or at least a more fun way?

For she had little doubt sex with Patrick would involve an aerobic capacity workout to push her to the limit.

As if sensing her wicked, wayward thoughts he cast her a glance, which she deftly deflected by pretending to concentrate on the models strutting into the room.

Thankfully he returned to muttering into his smartphone, dictating changes and minor adjustments on the gowns to follow up later: hem too low here, stray seam there. He was so focussed, so tuned in to his work, she couldn’t help but stare a little.

He’d surprised her. She’d wondered if he could pull off his mega idea for old-world Hollywood glamour, and by the looks of the early designs he’d come through in a big way.

It pained her to admit, even to herself, that she’d doubted him. But she had, and now she was going to have to eat her words.

How could the guy who’d laughed his way through school before absconding to Paris be responsible for these exquisite designs?

She glanced at the models, poised in a holding pattern on a makeshift runway, stunned anew by the colours and gowns before her eyes.

A riot of rich hues: deep crimson, emerald, peacock-blue. Lush satins, shimmering silks. Strapless evening gowns. Timeless cocktail frocks. Curves and class. Absolutely stunning.

Patrick might not have personally drawn the designs, but he’d come up with the concept, had supervised the designers night and day to get them to this point.

Not only did the guy have a sound business head, he had creativity to burn.

And not just for this fashion show.

She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat—and tried to ignore the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers or the touch of his thigh pressing close as he leaned over to point out a minor detail. Perfectly innocuous actions that shouldn’t have made her burn but she did. For him. With an unrelenting heat that sparked every time he touched her and shot off at tangents throughout her body, zapping and scalding and corroding her resistance slowly but surely.

This wasn’t good.

Their bathroom interlude should have taken the edge off her sudden interest in seeing him naked.

Instead it had put her on some heightened awareness where having him near sent her pheromones into overdrive.

The preview concluded way too quickly. Serge departed and the models filed out after him, leaving her rueing the approaching time where she’d have to do some fast thinking, fast talking, or both.

She’d had an orgasm.

In Fourde Fashion’s boardroom.

With an unlocked door.

Seconds before people had come traipsing in.

It had been phenomenal, but the fact she was becoming like him—reckless, live in the moment—was not good.

That might have been one of her goals after leaving Tenang—to make the most of every second and not dwell on things she couldn’t change—but now she had Patrick urging her, how far would she go to test her newfound strength?

Pushing it physically was one thing, but seeing how far she could push with Patrick…

Danger with a capital D.

For sex with a guy like him could become addictive, and she had no intention of getting hooked.

‘Thoughts?’

He really didn’t want to know.

By the amused glint in his eyes, maybe he did.

She took a deep breath and pushed her notepad towards him. ‘On what you’ve done? Amazing. Here are a few things I jotted down to capitalise on the theme you’re going for.’

He sped read her dot-point list, nodding thoughtfully, pen tapping against the pad, so absorbed in business that she wondered if she’d dreamt the whole dirty-talk orgasm incident.

‘Great pick-ups. I’ll get onto Serge right away to get the designers to incorporate.’