Page 24 of Hitched to My Enemy
The admission stunned me. Harlow Clarke, the paragon of regulatory certainty, had doubted herself? Because of me?
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.
"What would have been the point? The decision was made, the consequences in motion." Her smile held a trace of regret. "Besides, would you have believed anything from the woman who shut down your casino?"
"Probably not," I admitted. "I was too angry, too humiliated."
"And now?" The question hung between us, carrying implications beyond our professional relationship.
"Now..." I met her eyes, finding myself drawn into their depths. "Now I'm grateful you held me accountable. Without that wake-up call, I might never have built the Jade Petal the right way. Might never have learned what really matters."
"And what's that?" Her voice had softened, the professional edge completely absent.
"Integrity. Doing things right, even when it's harder." My thumb traced her lower lip, feeling her shiver in response. "Building something that matters, something real—"
She closed the remaining distance between us, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that ignited everything that had been building between us since that first night. Her arms wound around my neck as I pulled her against me, years of antagonism transforming into a different kind of heat entirely.
The kiss deepened, her lips parting beneath mine as her fingers threaded through my hair. I lifted her onto the desk, stepping between her knees as her legs wrapped around my waist. The taste of her—warm and sweet with a hint of the spicy food we'd shared—intoxicated me more thoroughly than any alcohol.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she murmured against my lips, even as her hands worked at the buttons of my shirt.
"Do you want to stop?" I asked, pulling back enough to see her face.
Her eyes had darkened with desire, her professional composure completely undone. "God, no."
I kissed her again, my hands sliding beneath her silk blouse to find warm skin. "I've wanted you since you walked back into my life," I confessed between kisses. "Even when I told myself I hated you."
"I know the feeling." Her clever fingers had finished with my buttons, pushing the shirt from my shoulders. "I kept telling myself it was just physical attraction. Something I could control."
"And now?" I traced kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.
"Now I'm not sure I want to control it anymore."
Her admission broke the last of my restraint. I swept the financial reports aside, laying her back across my desk as I reclaimed her mouth. Her legs tightened around me, pulling me closer as her hands explored my chest and shoulders with undisguised appreciation.
I tugged her blouse free from her skirt, my fingers finding the buttons with clumsy urgency. She arched up to help me remove it, revealing a lace bra in a shade of deep burgundy that made her skin glow in the low light. I traced the curves of her breasts with reverent fingers, watching her eyes flutter closed as my thumbs brushed over the hardened peaks visible through the delicate fabric.
"You're beautiful," I murmured, bending to press my lips to the sensitive skin above the lace.
Her fingers threaded through my hair, holding me to her. "Less talking," she commanded, her voice husky with need.
I unhooked her bra with practiced ease, drawing it away to reveal perfect breasts tipped with dusky pink nipples already tightened with arousal. When I took one into my mouth, she gasped, her back arching off the desk. I savored her response, using my tongue and teeth to tease her until she was writhing beneath me.
Her hands weren't idle, finding my belt and working it open with determined focus. "Too many clothes," she muttered, tugging at my waistband.
I straightened just enough to help her, kicking off my shoes as she pushed my pants and boxers down my legs. Her eyes widened appreciatively as she took in my fully aroused state, her teeth catching her lower lip in a gesture so unconsciously seductive I nearly lost what remained of my control.
"Now yours," I insisted, reaching for the zipper of her skirt.
She lifted her hips, allowing me to slide the garment down her legs along with her silky underwear. The sight of Harlow Clarke—composed, professional Investigator Clarke—naked and wanting on my desk was more erotic than any fantasy I'd ever harbored.
I bent to kiss her again, our naked bodies pressing together in a contact that sent electricity through every nerve ending. Her legs wrapped around my waist, bringing me against her core where I could feel her wet heat against my hardness. The sensation nearly undid me.
"I want to taste you," I whispered against her ear, delighting in the shiver that ran through her body at my words.
I trailed kisses down her throat, between her breasts, across her stomach, until I knelt before her. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching with dark, hungry eyes as I pressed her thighs wider apart. The first touch of my tongue against her center made her cry out, her head falling back as pleasure overtook her.
I savored her thoroughly, alternating between gentle exploration and focused attention on the bundle of nerves thatmade her thighs tremble. When I slid first one finger, then two inside her, curving upward to find the spot that made her gasp my name, I knew I'd found a rhythm that was driving her toward the edge.
