I huffed out a breath. “He has a lot of kids, right?”
His eyes drifted over my face.
“I’m the only girl . . . and the only one he didn’t offer a job right out of college.”
“Because you’re a girl? Or because you don’t speak to each other?”
I let his questions drip into my brain. Did he have good relationships with his other children?
Max held out his hand. “Come with me.”
All too easily, I slipped my palm into his, his fingers holding me tightly as he led me further down the corridor, deeper into his apartment. What was I doing? I didn’t like this man. I should go downstairs to my own apartment. “I’m sorry. It’s late. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Shhh. Let’s get you hydrated.”
He guided me to a barstool opposite a kitchen island in a huge room I hadn’t seen before. The other night I’d only caught the dusky outline of his bedroom and the entryway. I hadn’t appreciated the size of the place or how glamorous it was. Max either had incredible taste or he’d hired a great interior designer.
“Drink,” he said, setting a glass of water on the white marble counter in front of me.
I took a sip, suddenly much more sober than I’d been when I knocked on his door.
“More,” he growled. Jesus, he was so bossy. But I complied and gulped down a couple mouthfuls of water.
He rounded the counter and stood beside me, leaning on the marble. “Tell me about your dad. You think he didn’t hire you because—”
“Because I have boobs.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“He offered me a big chunk of money.” I set my glass down. “It’s not that he denies my existence—he periodically asks me to dinner.”
“So you do speak to him?”
I really needed to leave. “Not since my youngest half brother started his job at JD Stanley the day of his twenty-second birthday. Three weeks after I graduated business school. But not really much before that either.”
Max pursed his lips.
“I thought maybe he was waiting for me to finish grad school, and of course I would have said no, but . . .”
Max’s fingers stroking my arm scattered my thoughts. “He gave us money, me and my mom, but what I wanted was a family.”
Max withdrew his hand.
“Sorry, I should stop talking.”
“I like to listen. You have a lot to say.” His voice was quiet and even, as if he were being sincere, as if he wasn’t talking to a drunk woman who thought he was an asshole.
I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve been drinking. I have more to say in the office, but you’re not so interested there.”
He cupped my face. “How wrong you are.”
His kisses were soft at first, and I closed my eyes, savoring each one.
“We can’t do this.” My mouth protested, but my hands slipped up his naked back, his warm muscles bunching under my touch. “I can’t—”
“I know,” he said. “If I’m going to go for the JD Stanley account, I can’t exactly be fucking the boss’s daughter.” As if his body hadn’t caught up with his brain, he pulled up my skirt. “But this ass, these legs. They’ve got me under some kind of spell.” He smoothed his hands over my hips and under my ass, slipping inside my panties, then pulled me off the stool and tight to his body.
“We’re going to be working together.” I wrapped my hands around his neck. “I don’t need my head full . . .” . . . of thoughts of you. I couldn’t say that. I didn’t want Max to think I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if we were in the office together, but frankly, it was going to be a big ask. “We should focus on the pitch.”
He nodded and captured my bottom lip between his teeth. Without thinking, I twisted my hips against his growing erection.
“If my dad suspected . . . I need to show him I’m excellent at my job, not that I got to work at King & Associates because I’m fucking the boss.”
“Focused,” he repeated. “No boss fucking.”
“I’m serious.” I pushed against his chest. “Stop thinking with your dick.”
“I’m serious, too, but you’re encouraging me.” He grinned. It was a shock because it happened so rarely. Just for a moment my heart stopped.
“Don’t grin at me, you asshole.” I tried to twist out of his arms, but he just held me closer.
“Just tonight. This is Vegas. We start with a fresh slate tomorrow morning. No fucking after tonight.”
“Vegas? Just for tonight?” I stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was telling the truth. Wondering if I wanted him to be. Yes. Tonight would be my last with Max King. Working on this account and showing my father what he had been missing wasn’t worth risking. Not even for the King of Wall Street.
He smoothed a hand over my pussy, then pushed his fingers into my folds. “Just tonight,” he whispered.
I lost strength in my knees and stumbled.
“See what a single touch does to you? See the power I have over your body?” He removed his fingers and disappointment caught my breath. I didn’t have to answer. “You came here to get fucked, and I’m not going to disappoint you.” He bent and lifted me over his shoulder.
“I came to tell you I’d work on the account!” I yelled at his back as I kicked my legs.
“You came to get fucked.”
Well, maybe he was right about that. Except sober I’d never have risked colliding with one of his other lovers.
“Vegas,” he muttered again. “Just for one more night.”
He tipped me onto his bed, my ass bouncing on the mattress, and he grabbed my leg and pulled me toward him. “If I only get to have you for one more night, I need a memory of that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.”
I sat up, my feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and he stepped between my legs, cupping my head in his hand.
“You can’t just demand a blow job.”
He raised one eyebrow as if to disagree.
I shook my head and pulled down the sides of his pajamas until they hit his ankles. His cock sprang out, hard and thick.
“It seems to be working.”
I wanted to have him in my mouth, could feel myself grow wet between my thighs at the thought of his cock between my lips. But I’d clearly made it too easy for him, and I couldn’t have that.
I leaned back onto the mattress, opening my legs so my skirt bunched around my hips, then reached into my underwear. Wanting him in no doubt as to what I was doing, I hitched one leg up onto the bed to improve his view and pushed my hands deeper, finding my opening.
“Really?” he asked as he fisted his cock, dragging his hand upward.
“Ask me nicely.”
He chuckled, shook his head, and let go of his erection. His energy shifted and he leaned over, stripping me of my clothes. First my skirt, then my panties. Next he fiddled with the buttons of my blouse. He glanced at me, and it was my time to raise my eyebrow at him. “Finding that difficult?” I asked.
Without taking his eyes off me, he ripped my shirt apart. Fuck, that was silk and I’d only worn it three times. “You asshole!”