Monday morning and I was a tension-riddled mess behind my desk. It’d only been two days since dinner with Rory and his more than successful tease. I craved him like a glass of ice water on a hot day. His skin, his scent, his touch, were all I could think about. Which definitely didn’t help me focus as I finalized the details on an employee appreciation event for a thousand staff members from different departments in the company.

The event was a bi-annual occasion we held in order to keep up morale as well as give employees the chance to voice any concerns or ideas they had for the future of the company. It was a tradition, and one I looked forward to each time. Still, if I wasn’t careful, I’d be scheduling the event at the Shark’s home rink with no more entertainment than to watch Rory shred the ice during practice.

A buzz rang from the intercom on my desk. I clicked the button. “Yes?”

“Mr. Turner is here to see you.”

“Send him in.” I clicked off the com and smoothed my hair down while slipping my bare feet into my black pumps. I didn’t have any meetings today and had gotten comfortable while approving the event coordinator’s band choice for the appreciation party this weekend. Comfortable wasn’t a word my father understood.

The wooden doors to my office swung open—my father was never one to make a subtle entrance. He wore one of his traditional gray, pinstriped suits that brought out the silver in his hair.

“Paige.” He opened his arms as I came around my desk.

“Father.” I hugged him, genuinely happy to see him. I always missed him when he went out of town on business, which often kept him away for weeks at a time, even when I was a child. I’d gotten used to seeing him around the office, where we would have daily lunches if meetings and schedules allowed it, and once he retired…well, I guess I’d have to grow up after all.

“You look lovely,” he said, pushing me out and glancing at my three-piece black pant-suit and blazer combo.

“Thank you.” I didn’t miss the emphasis in his compliment or the silent this is what the CEO of our company should present herself as part of the sentence. It didn’t bother me, as long as he was done lecturing me about the damn red dress. It had gotten me into more trouble than I knew how to handle—though it was also responsible, at least in part, for snagging me Rory for the next three months, too.

“Everything set for this weekend?” He took a seat in one of the leather chairs I kept in front of my desk.

“Yes.” I sat back down in my chair, clicking a tab on my computer. “Jeannine says she has something special planned for the self-serve stations.” I chuckled at my father’s panicked look. Our designated go-to caterer, and my best friend since sixth grade was one of the best chefs in the country—it was her wild lifestyle that had always concerned him. Started with the night she’d snuck me my first shot of Jack Daniels freshman year in high school. Father had flipped, forbidding our friendship, but my mother had talked him down.

“You know she’ll take care of everyone.” I shifted my full focus on him. “And this year I’ve made a few changes.”

“Oh yes?”

I nodded. “We always stock enough food and drink to feed two times the number of guests, and since we always offer a casual yet classy atmosphere, one where patrons can pick and choose from the courses, I’d like to invite the frequenters of one of the local shelters to dine after our guests have served themselves.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We threw out so much food last time. It’s a waste of our resources.”

“And this has nothing to do with your pet project?” He smiled and tilted his head.

He knew all about my ambitions and how I’d use them to not only keep our company profitable but expand into other areas as well. “Seattle has a need. We can fill it. At least for one day, we can make a dent in those who go hungry on a daily basis.”

“Have you considered the consequences if the new names on the guest list don’t mingle well with the employees and stockholders the event is for? Or perhaps if the stockholders don’t take kindly to their presence?”

A sour taste filled my mouth. Of course, I’d thought about the scenario, but I had enough faith in humanity to push forward. Didn’t mean I hadn’t done my due diligence, though. “I’ve doubled security in case there are any confrontations. But there won’t be. Our name, our brand is about providing the highest quality products and best service to the people who need them. These people need to eat. We’ll have an influx of food that day. It makes sense.”

He rubbed the five o’clock shadow surfacing on his chin. “Your heart never ceases to surprise me. Nor does the tenacity in getting what you want.” He stood and came around the desk to kiss me on the forehead. “Make all the arrangements. I’ll sign off on whatever you need.”

My heart lifted at the idea of all the people who would get to experience a five-star meal and eat their fill. “Thank you.”

He glanced around my desk as if a company check would pop up that needed his signature.

“I already approved it. The three most overcrowded shelters were contacted this morning.”

He chuckled. “Of course. What need of me do you have anymore?”

“Father…”

He shook his head, reigning in his laugh. “You’re my perfect successor. I have no doubt.”

He kissed my head again before leaving, and I slumped back into my chair. Usually, the pride I garnered from making my father proud was something I relished. Today, I couldn’t help but feel it was unmerited.

After all, I’d already crossed off several numbers on my dirty-girl bucket list—#9: Purchase my first sexual paraphernalia (a scary looking red vibrator that, in fact, Jeannine had bought on my behalf so there would be no paper trail) and #3: Watch a M/M porn film (another endeavor Jeannine had been all too happy to join me in. Bailey had been there too, with popcorn and wine and many, many heated breaths)—and I couldn’t stop seeing the circle drawn around #7. It would be completed soon, along with the rest of the list unless Rory changed his mind and didn’t sign the contract.

Number seven teased me with urgency, and yet it was easily the most damning on the list.

How could I be the face of the corporation I loved when all I wanted to be was Rory’s?

* * *

“A week and a half and you don’t call or respond to any of my texts—what makes you think you can waltz in here and demand a drink?” Jeannine’s snark didn’t match her smile as I took a seat at the large, wooden bar.

“Drink and a meal, let’s not forget that.”

She shook her head, her normally wild blonde curls tucked into a ponytail. She ran her hands down her immaculate white chef’s jacket. “Depends. Are you willing to sing for your supper?”

“Absolutely,”—I leaned over the bar, lowering my voice so only we could hear—“and boy do I have a song to sing. After a scotch and soda.”

“Tease.” She laughed but immediately poured my favorite drink and slid it in front of me.    I unbuttoned my blazer and stretched my arms over my head, rolling my neck in an attempt to ease the tension there. It didn’t work—hadn’t worked the past few days. I’d come to the conclusion I’d never fully relax again until Rory picked up where he left off at my place. The image of him pinning me against the wall in my dining room flashed red hot in my mind, as it had so many times since he’d left me there to take an extremely cold shower. Had to give the man credit, though. He knew how to make me ache in places I never had before.

I glanced around Jeannine’s restaurant—one of three she owned—my eyes hunting for anyone who might take an interest in my anticipated gossip session with my best friend.

The place was slow since it was well past ten p.m., and only a few patrons nursed glasses of red in a booth nestled in the far back corner. Nine’s was a Michelin star winner, and one of the only places Jeannine played head chef at on a regular basis. It was a sweet perk, never needing a reservation in order to get the highly sought after food but she’d been cooking for me since our “family studies” course in middle school.

“You milk that while I throw together your usual.” She nodded toward my drink and disappeared into the kitchen in the back.

I took a sweet sip, enjoying the immediate release I received from the smooth scotch. Well, at least that was something. I closed my eyes, unable to keep the image of Rory from my mind. I’d had a few lovers—discreetly—since college, and I couldn’t understand what it was about Rory that tangled me so badly, especially since we hadn’t even officially had sex yet.

Maybe it’s because he’s taking control over you in a way no else ever has before.

Another sip. I’d never once wanted a man as badly as I did Rory—and I knew it had less to do with his celebrity-athlete status and more to do with the way he took control of the situation, of me, despite my efforts to take the reins. I may have drafted the contract, but he was the one with all the power. The push-pull, paired with how little I truly knew of the man, made it so much more intense.

“Lobster risotto,” Jeannine said as she slid the plate before me, “with a side of you better tell me what the hell went down in the penthouse.”

I smirked, picking up my fork and slowly taking a bite. My eyes rolled back in my head. Jeannine had a direct line to my soul and had found the easiest route through food. The dish practically melted in my mouth. “Perfection. Every. Time.”

“Yes, yes. The deets. Now.” She leaned her elbows on the bar, giving me her undivided attention. Of course, she’d practically made the dirty-girl bucket list for me and made sure I was under strict orders to share every situation which resulted in checking the items off.

“He came up a few minutes after you handed him the key.”

She clapped her hands together, drawing the attention of the diners in the back. I eyed her, and she threw her hands up in apology. “Sorry. I knew he would. Who could resist you?”

“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes.

“So what happened?”

I sighed, thinking about how close he’d taken me to the edge before pulling me back. “We’re taking it slow.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Slow? Who has time for slow?”

Heat flushed my cheeks as the memory of his tongue between my thighs ignited the ache that flared every time I thought about him. I shifted in my seat, leaning further over my risotto.

“So are you dating? I thought he didn’t do that.” She tilted her head.

I shrugged. “I think we are.”

She squinted at me. “You’re serious?”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s Rory Jackson.”

“And I’m Paige Turner. So what?”

“You know his reputation. I was all for you using him for a little list checking, but a relationship? Is that…smart for you?”

Guilt twisted my insides. There wasn’t a time in my life I’d ever lied to Jeannine. Or Bailey for that matter. Now, with the deal I’d struck with Rory, we’d be lying to everyone—kind of. It was complicated. I couldn’t risk them knowing, though. It wouldn’t make sense to them, and it definitely wouldn’t be good if word got around I practically hired one of Seattle’s hottest Sharks to be my sex slave. Ugh. When you put it that way...

I reached across the bar and squeezed her wrist. “I love you for looking out for me, but you know I’m a smart girl. I don’t go into any situation blind, and I know exactly what to expect when it comes to Rory Jackson. I’ve been given a first class seat to his many...one night relationships. I won’t get hurt.”

She eyed me skeptically, almost as if she could see through my line of bullshit. I wouldn’t doubt her the ability, but I was thankful she didn’t press the issue.

“All right,” she said, finally, her light smile returning to her face. “Did he talk about his stick and Shark stats all night?”

I chuckled. “No. We didn’t actually talk...much.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You dirty girl!”

I couldn’t help but join her laughter. Lord, we could’ve been in high school again. Only now the men we discussed were more than capable, incredibly hot, prospects. “I know! I’m terrible!”

“No, you’re not.” She fiddled with the collar of her jacket. “You went after what you wanted. Always have. I love that about you. I wish I had half your courage.”

“Please, I wouldn’t have made the list without you pushing it. And look at the success you have!”

“I don’t have an evening with Rory Jackson under my belt!”

“I don’t either.” I shoved another quick bite into my mouth. “Not technically.”

“At least tell me he’s a good kisser,” she begged.

The memory of his mouth was imprinted on my soul, his tongue was that magical. “Yes. In fact, I’ve never had better.”

“Shut up!” she giggled. “Damn. Think about how good it’ll be when you finally sleep with him.

A warm shiver shook my core. “I have.”

“Unless it’s all build and no backing it up.”

My fork clinked against the plate. “Thanks for being a Debbie Downer.” I shook my head. “Besides,” I leaned forward, lowering my voice to a whisper. “There is no possible way he could be bad. I practically soak my panties every time the man walks into the room.”

She hissed, fanning herself as I returned to my meal. “Wait. You’ve seen him since Donaldson’s event?”

“Twice.” I grinned. “I ran into him at Aroma’s and then invited him over for dinner later that night.”

“You are so bad!”

I nodded. “He actually found me there.”

“Like, sought you out?”

“Mmmhmm,” I mumbled around another forkful. “Got the info from Bailey. Not that it took much, I bet. The two of you would probably make him a key and give him my security code if he asked for it.”

She laughed. “Can you blame us? Look at you! You’re blushing just talking about him, and that smile on your face has to hurt because you’ve been wearing it since I brought him up!”

I touched my cheeks, forcing myself to drop the schoolgirl grin.

“Pulling the Bailey card is smart. Seeking you out and now dating?” She rubbed her hands together. “He fell for you quick. That’s a record. Way faster than Kevin. What it’d take him, three weeks?”

“Stop it. Kevin was in high school…but yes, he dropped the L-bomb after only three weeks.”

Not that Rory would ever use that word.

“When are you seeing him next?”

“I don’t know, the next high school reunion?”

She planted me with a firm gaze that told me she wasn’t talking about Kevin.

“I’m not exactly sure.”

“Why the hell not?”

“He said he’d call.”

She sighed and took a good swig of my scotch. “Well, I sure as hell hope he does quick. You have to indulge while you can, and we didn’t set any repeating clauses on the dirty-girl list. You could check off number seven until you can barely walk.”

I swallowed my bite a little too quickly. “Jesus, Jeannine!”

“Seriously. No one would ever know.”

I dabbed my lips with a napkin. “Because gossip surrounding the bad boys of the Sharks never makes headlines? Please. That’s why we’re taking it slow. So the media sees we’re both serious about…” I let my sentence hang there, my imagination running wild with every way the media could destroy my name and that of the company I was meant to head.

“I get that,” she said. “It’s just…”

“What?” I asked after she’d held her breath for a few moments.

“You’ve always been in control, constantly maintained the good-girl image your family—and now your position—has demanded of you. It’d be nice to see you let someone else take care of you for a change. I hope whatever you two are doing at least accomplishes that.”

I pressed my lips together. She was right, as usual. This is why she was my soul-sister. She knew me better than me sometimes. Of course, Rory had gotten under my skin so deliciously—because he’d taken full control and left me wanting more.

“Did you at least sneak a photo with your phone?” Jeannine brought me out of my wild thoughts—where I hunted Rory down and forced him to finish the delicious game he’d started.

“Of course not. If you want to know what he looks like without a shirt, google it. It’s very close to the real thing…except…”

“What?”

The image of the deep V that the cotton towel had barely covered when I’d seen him at Bailey’s made my mouth water. “He’s well defined in ways Photoshop could never touch.”

I chuckled at her wide, opened mouth, watching as the gears turned behind her eyes. She snapped out of it, and lightly smacked me on the shoulder. “And you want to take it slow? You’re insane.”

“We have to.” It didn’t matter that I wanted to test the limits Rory would push me to or the rules he’d make me break. “There is too much at stake if we push it too fast. Not just my name, or his reputation, but my employees. They’re the ones who would suffer the most if our company got dragged through the gutter with too many immoral headlines associated with my name. And we all know the kind of stories the press writes about him. He needs the slow pace as much as I do.”

She hissed. “God it’s like your family are a bunch of politicians.”

Close, at least with the moral standard the world held us to. I couldn't be mad about the life I’d grown up in, though. I believed in those morals, believed I was a good person…I just wanted to do a few bad things before I shut the door on that kind of life forever.

Twelve bad things to be exact.

And, damn it, the only one that kept my breath catching and heart racing was number seven. If Rory didn’t put me out of my misery soon, I might combust before he had the chance.

Jeannine reached across the table and clutched my wrist. “Even politicians make it work. I’m not saying he’s prince charming and will change overnight, but I get you wanting to see where it goes between the two of you. I see how flustered you are simply talking about him. I can’t imagine what he does to you in person.”

Warmth filled my insides, and I licked my lips.

“Or maybe I can.” She let go and laughed as she took my nearly cleaned plate back to the kitchen.

I loved her support, even when she knew the stakes as well as myself. Again, I had the urge to tell her the truth, tell her that Rory and I had nothing more than a business arrangement, but that was one secret I couldn’t risk anyone ever finding out.

* * *

Gorgeous rays of Seattle sun illuminated the botanical gardens I had secured for the employee appreciation event, making the rich array of colorful flowers pop against the lush greenery. Round tables draped in the standard cream linens took up the area used for entertainment, and Jeannine had set her team and self-serve stations to the right of the stage I’d had constructed on the site. It acted as the focal point of the event, and the indie-band I’d hired—Black Orchid—were two songs in.

I stood near the entrance beneath an archway of ivy and greeted our guests as they came. Almost everyone had arrived, from our stockholders to the people who ran our packaging department, and the line for food dwindled as our employees filled their plates with signature Jeannine dishes like my favorite lobster risotto, seared scallops, and pan-seared halibut. She was busy busting her moves behind the stations, practically dancing at the ovens placed back to back, allowing her to maintain the supply as soon as it came close to a shortage.

“Paige.” My father’s voice drew my attention back to the entrance, and I smiled as he wrapped me in a side hug. “This is gorgeous. Well done.”

I scanned the area another time, noting the vast amount of empty tables waiting to be filled resting toward the back, and nodded. “Thank you. Our other guests should arrive any minute.”

“Wonderful. The musicians have talent, and I’m glad they’re sticking to melodies that please a wide span of tastes—I can’t tell if they’re folk, modern, or blues.”

“Indie. An eclectic combination of several genres. It’s why I picked them, their wide appeal.”

“You are an extremely smart woman, providing the best for our employees, and inviting those in need to dine as well. Honestly, I couldn’t have thought of a better way to represent our company and the wholesome name behind it.”

I pressed my lips together, accepting his words as a compliment, but knowing I hadn’t once thought about the benefits of inviting the shelter guests for our company. I genuinely wanted to help. I couldn’t care less if the news or top-bloggers picked it up or not, though I wouldn’t put it past my father to have called and scheduled their arrival regardless. He couldn’t help it; it was the businessman in him.

“How did you manage to snag so many wonderful items for the charity auction?” He eyed the station to the left of Jeannine’s set-up, a long rectangular, cloth-draped table holding the items he spoke of.

I shrugged. “I learned from the best.”

A prideful grin shaped his mouth. “You sent Kelsey after them?”

I chuckled. The petite brunette, currently inhaling a plateful of scallops at one of the center tables had been my personal assistant for six years. She’d applied for the position just to earn some money while she completed her masters in art history, but it was her minor in public relations that had won me over. That and her ability to find the humor in even the stuffiest of business situations. Her ability to discover local artists—from painters to musicians to writers—and bend them into donating items was the ultimate bonus.

“How did she manage to obtain Rory Jackson for the day?”

My head snapped to my father, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“Were you unaware? He’s already given a considerable check and donated a set of signed hockey sticks. I haven’t a clue why anyone would want them, beat up and used as they are, but the bid is already in the five figures. I believe one of our shareholders has the same crush you do.”

Of course, father wouldn’t understand why anyone would want to get their hands on Rory’s stick—he didn’t keep up with sports, let alone the NHL. I nearly choked over the word crush picturing all the not-so-innocent crush-like things we would be doing to each other over the next three months…I hoped. This time when I gazed over the crowd, I hunted for one face.

“Looks like he’s getting acquainted with Jeannine.” Dad pointed toward her station where she’d amazingly left her position at the ovens and served him herself. I didn’t bother explaining to my father that we were all already acquainted.

Instead, I smoothed my hands over my white day dress, resisting the urge to cinch tighter the red ribbon that circled my hips. “Excuse me, father.” I patted his shoulder before walking over with what I hoped was a super casual and not at all shocked look on my face. I knew I’d see him again, but at my company’s bi-annual appreciation event was the last place I had expected it to happen.

Jeannine waggled her eyebrows once we locked gazes and Rory, noticing her shift from bright-eyed-smile to crazy-innuendo face, glanced my way.

I stopped a foot away from him, my breath stalling in my lungs. The man looked good in everything, his black slacks and royal blue polo beyond making his eyes pop. He could wear a prison jumpsuit, and he’d drip sex. I clenched my eyes shut for a moment, forcing the images of what laid beneath the clothes from my mind.

“What are you doing here?” I wasn’t breathless. I was…upset. Fantasizing about sneaking around with him was one thing, having him show up at a corporate event—without so much as a heads up—was an entirely different situation. Especially with my father’s watchful eyes measuring each step of my success and each of his prayers for me not to fail him—even more so with the new addition to the guest list that would be here any second. I know the contract stated we’d be a couple, but I’d wanted to inform my father of my new “relationship” on my own terms, not Rory’s. Though, the man was constantly reminding me who was in control now that I’d enlisted his help.

“Couldn’t pass up an opportunity to give back to the local community. Wonderful charity you chose for the event, Paige. So many homeless shelters will benefit from the boost in funds.”

My heart actually had the gall to flutter in my chest. No. I slapped the bitch down and redirected the feelings to my pussy where they belonged. Sex was acceptable. Lust was fine…actually having feelings for him would make our arrangement even more dangerous than it already was.

“Thank you, Rory.” I was shocked he’d shown up—him looking into the charity event was beyond my thought process. He wasn’t advertised in the media as a do-gooder, but he’d already came to my aide at two charity functions. I’d always thought it was on Bailey and Gage’s insistence, but perhaps there was a side to him no one knew. The media constantly focused on which model was on his arm this week, or what player on the opposing team he’d crush next. This—what he was doing with me or for me or whoever the hell knew—would be fantastic for his image. And he’d be fantastic for my…list. No butterflies, Paige. Just business.

I eyed Jeannine. She was easily the most gorgeous person here—besides perhaps Rory—even with her platinum blonde locks tied up in a top-knot and her all black chef attire.

She suggestively wiggled her hips while Rory’s attention was on me and I chuckled. She’d be a better match for him than me, easily able to keep up with his wild side, and she didn’t have anything at stake from being in the limelight. Hell, her restaurants were frequented by A-listers all the time. She was used to it.

A pang of completely unmerited jealousy cut in my stomach. When the hell had I decided I’d rather not picture Rory with anyone else? He was only mine for three months. After that, it would be back to bed-hopping for him and near-celibate for me.

“Well, this looks divine, Jeannine. Thank you.” Rory licked his lips as his eyes trailed my body before he held up his full plate and sauntered to an empty table near the auction items.

Jeannine whistled. “He just eye-fucked you in public, girl. I told you he’s got it bad.”

I darted my gaze left and right, thankful no one was near enough to catch her words. “No, he doesn’t.” And the mere thought did not make my heart beat harder. Nope. It was just the way his ass looked in those slacks as he’d walked away.

My second guest list made the perfect timing to arrive, and I hurried over to the entrance to greet them. “Thank you all for coming,” I said and pointed to Jeannine’s stations. “Please feel free to fill your plates, sit where you’d like, and enjoy the entertainment. After you’ve had enough to your liking, please stop by the auction table and pick up your raffle ticket. We’ll be holding a drawing after the auction.”

I received several hugs, a few handshakes, and plenty of skeptical looks as people who varied in age and sex pushed on to the food, creating a fast but well-formed line. After satisfying myself that everything was running smoothly, and with the band in full swing, eliciting some people to dance before the stage, I made my way over to Rory.

He grinned over his empty plate, the look all too confident that he’d known, without any doubt, I’d come to him.

I took a seat next to him, adjusting my dress over my legs underneath the cloth that draped over the table.

“You know, we joke about the stalking thing, but it isn’t really sexy. That junk only exists in the movies.”

He placed a large palm over his chest. “You wound me.”

“Please.” I laughed.

Shifting in his seat, he angled his legs toward me under the table, his knee brushing mine. “I have some paperwork for you in my car. Signed. Aren’t you excited, honey?”

The way he said the pet name was forced and awkward enough to make me laugh. Nothing like the real nickname he had for me, which made me shiver whenever he dropped it. “I’m thrilled, darling.” I teased him. “I can’t imagine how terrible this will be for you,” I said, lowering my voice.

“Fun.” He shook his head. “It’ll be fun. You can at least admit that.”

The ache between my thighs had yet to be satisfied, so I shrugged. “Still waiting to see.”

He leaned to whisper in my ear. “Admit it. You got wet the second you saw me.”

My lips parted, and I swear I didn’t mean to gasp. I glanced around with panicked eyes, as if anyone could’ve heard his hushed tone. My confident and controlling persona was useless here, surrounded by all the people whose livelihoods depended on our profitable and well-functioning company.

His fingers grazed the bare skin of my thigh, pushing underneath the skirt of my dress, and rising dangerously high. Blood pumped so hard through my veins it rushed in my ears.

“Wow. I’ve never seen you speechless, Red.” He stopped his ascent but kept his hand on my leg. Just two inches to the right and he’d be able to touch me where I ached.

I didn’t dare move, unable to deny the pulse-pounding adrenaline I received from his direct advance in a very public place—not that anyone could see—the draped cloth covering everything that mattered.

I locked eyes with him. “You haven’t known me that long.”

“Something I’m trying to remedy. We’ve only got three months. Have to make it count.”

“Look who is taking his duties more than a step farther.”

“What makes you say that?” He took up his massaging of my thigh again, and I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

“It seems like you’re taking an interest in my personal life. What matters to me. That’s dangerously close to ruining the casual agreement we’ve struck.” I intertwined my fingers on the table top, fearing if I let them wander they’d plunge down his pants. Good Lord I couldn’t keep it together around this man.

He smirked. “Casual?” He eyed me. “Come on, Paige. You and I both know nothing between us has been casual.”

“I’m proud, though. Your donations and presence here today will help jumpstart that…wholesome image we’re going for.” I tried to reference the business side of our deal in order to cool the fire pulsing between my thighs, but my words still came out stuttered with each movement of his hand on my skin.

“You know what I’ve told you when you go all boardroom on me?” He shifted closer to me, slowly tugging one of my hands underneath the table to lightly graze the outline of his extremely hard cock. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll forget I’m playing the good boyfriend who holds hands and does brunch.”

His words soaked my panties, and I wiggled in my seat. Damn it, he had a direct line to my fuck me now button—one I hadn’t known existed until I’d met him.

“Rory I—”

“Saying my name only makes it worse, Red.” He hissed, and his fingers found my wetness under the table with no pretenses of light petting. He dove right in, pushing my panties to the side and stroking my clit with an expertise that had me immediately in sparking knots.

I sucked in a deep breath, unable to tear my eyes away from all the potential people who could catch us. They danced, ate second portions, or browsed the auction table, not ten feet from where we sat—and they were all thankfully oblivious.

My body? Not so much.

Rory kept his eyes on me, grazing over my chest, which I tried beyond belief to keep control of. The act was harder than anything I’d ever done, and I was a fucking Harvard graduate. Sparks shot across every surface of my skin, the heat from his touch burrowing deeper in my core as he slipped his fingers inside me.

God, why did I have to wear a dress?

He pressed his thumb against my clit as he pushed his fingers in deeper.

Scratch that. Thank God I’d worn a dress.

My breath quickened, and I couldn’t help it, I moved against him with the smallest of motions, silently begging him to make me come…regardless of the people surrounding us. I’d needed the release at his doing since the first night in the penthouse. He’d kept it from me for so long I was ready to jump him at my own company’s event! I wiggled again, imagining his strong hand was the strong cock I knew he had.

He jolted, immediately withdrawing his hand. He pushed back from the table, waving to the crowd who I only just now realized had their eyes on him.

“Thank you,” he said after he’d climbed on stage and the crowd had started applauding. He silenced them with one raise of his hand. The same hand that had been inside me seconds ago. Holy hell. “I promised Paige I would say a few words. Promised her they’d be clever. Well, I’m going to have to break my promise as I’ve misplaced that priceless speech.”

Everyone laughed, but I remained lost in my head, in the heat still throbbing between my thighs. How could I lose it like that? How could I let him do that to me with the chance of getting caught so very close?

“What I will say is thank you all for coming. For contributing to a corporation that has helped keep families healthy and wholesome for decades.” The way he emphasized the word wholesome had me grinning despite the insane terror mixed with need rushing in my blood. It was like he was speaking only to me, not the hundreds in the crowd. “You’re all wonderful people that I’m honored to have met today,” he finished, flashing that million-dollar smile and descending the stage to another round of applause. He even stopped to snap quick photos with anyone who asked.

I thought the separation would be like a cold shower and shock some sense into me.

It didn’t. He only turned me on more, showing a side I’d never seen before—at least a side the media had never shown coverage on. His eyes caught mine across the crowd and I didn’t miss the lust that flashed behind them.

I crossed my legs, unable to ignore the slickness between the motion.

The auction winners were announced and collected their items right after his speech, and then, per my direction, Kelsey had drawn a numbered ticket from the raffle I’d had the shelter guests collect from. The winner had two children with her and hugged them before rushing up to meet Kelsey. She didn’t know she’d just won a check big enough to feed her family for a year; she was just happy to win anything at all. It broke my heart and made me fill with pride at the same time.

And just as I was mentally plotting all the people I could help once I took over as C.E.O., Rory drew my attention and motioned toward the parking area just outside the gardens. I quickly followed him to his car secretly hoping he’d throw me in the passenger seat and take me to his place for an entire night of nothing but him and a set of sheets.

Instead, he opened the door and pulled out the same folder I’d given him over dinner. “It’s official.” He handed me the contract which I glanced at. It was signed. “You’re mine for three months.”

The claim sent another wave of heat across my skin. I straightened, arching an eyebrow at him. “I believe this states you’re mine, Mr. Jackson. Do we need to go over the articles again?”

His hands snaked around my hips, the movement innocent, but it was enough of a public display that if anyone were watching they would know we were “together.”

“Only if you want to give me an actual peek at the list, Ms. Turner.”

I chuckled, shaking my head and moving his hands from my hips, keeping hold of one with my hand. “Why are you so interested in the list?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? If I’m number seven, I can’t imagine what else made it on there.”

I playfully smacked his chest. “Overconfident much?”

He squeezed my hand. “Haven’t you read the blogs? I’m Rory-fucking-Jackson. The only person I’ve ever loved is myself.”

I squinted my eyes at him, noticing the crease between his brow appear again for a split second as he tried to play off the joke. I was quickly becoming aware he didn’t have a clue about his small tell, and it made me feel like I had a piece of him no one else did.

This time when I touched his chest I used it to balance on my pumps as I pushed up on my tiptoes to kiss him. I kept myself in check, not slipping my tongue in his mouth like I ached to, but inside teased his lips with mine just enough to make him sigh. Pulling back, I locked onto his blue eyes. “Fuck the blogs. The papers. The magazines. They don’t have a clue who you really are.”

He smirked. “And you do?”

I licked my lips, happy they tasted like him. “I’m starting to.”

His eyes widened as if the prospect was more terrifying than the hits he took on the ice. I laughed, tugging him back toward the party. “It’s almost time to clean up. How good are you with your hands?”

“Figured you could answer that by now,” he said, following me behind Jeannine’s line of tables.

“Jury is still out.”

“Ouch. Red, you are hard to please.”

“And you’re hard—”

“Whoa, kids, we don’t need to hear all of that,” Jeannine cut me off, and I chuckled. “Or maybe we do.” She waggled her eyebrows again as she handed me a dishrag. I smacked her thigh with it before tossing one to Rory.

“You think you can manage to clean some dirty dishes? Or do you have practice?” I asked.

He nodded. “Practice isn’t for another few hours. And you know I’m really good at taking care of all things…dirty.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I took up my spot at a full tub of dishes. Those non-existent butterflies were back, and try as I might to explain to them that Rory was nothing but a business arrangement, the fucking things kept on flapping until I felt like I was soaring.