As the personal assistant to the owner of one of the top engineering firms in Denver, Tiffany Brooks has worked hard at maintaining a professional façade, intent on ridding herself of terrible habits—like her attraction to bad boys. But when the owner of DC Construction rides his chopper into her world two years after their one-time anonymous sexual encounter, everything turns upside down.
Declan Cage is the type of guy who makes a lasting impression, especially with women, yet the gorgeous assistant at Stoub Engineering never remembers his name—or does she? Intrigued by her game, her sexier than sin body, and an infuriating prissy attitude, Ms. Brooks is begging to be taken into hand, and he’s the man to do it.
Armed with the knowledge Declan doesn’t recognize her, will Tiffany give in to her desire for him yet again, or will her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?
Tiffany Brooks heard the familiar tocato-tocato-tocato sound of a purring motor. She swiveled in her office chair to look out the window and saw him park his custom chopper next to her car on the paved lot of Stoub Engineering.
Straddling his chrome bike wearing chunky leather-work boots, jeans, and a simple white T-shirt, Declan Cage set her heart to pitter-pat.
She touched her chest and groused, “You’re not attracted to him, Tiffany.”
Tucking a piece of sable-brown hair behind her ear, she straightened her shoulders and put on her toothy-white smile.
“Good morning,” she said when he entered the building.
“Morning, Ms. Brooks.”
She observed him coming toward her desk and willed her face to look pleasant, yet restrained. She needed to keep her gaze particularly uninterested in him although the smug politeness she plastered across her features was hard to accomplish. Declan had a swagger that made her want to gawk at him.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “And you?”
Her response was a blank faced, “I’m sorry. I’m not good with names.”
He crinkled his brow, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. Yeah. There it was. The look. She’d definitely gotten under his skin.
“I’m Declan.” He turned slightly to show her his back and gestured over his shoulder toward the logo. The silver skull ring he wore on his thumb gleamed. “From DC Construction,” he said. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bulged beneath the shirt.
“Oh yes.” She waved her hand about.
She knew who he was and had immediately recognized him the first time he’d sauntered into the office over a month ago. She’d played it cool then, and she’d play it cool now. Besides, revealing her little secret would be nothing but detrimental. Yet even if it was a dangerous game, she loved bugging the hell out of him with her I’m-bad-with names thing, especially since she imagined he wasn’t used to a woman forgetting him. Continuing with the I’m-a-busy-professional-who’s-not-impressed-by-you farce, she casually glanced at her laptop, flipped the lid closed, then looked back up at him.
“How may I help you today?”
“Matthew called me this morning. He said he left some plans here and I should come by to pick them up.”
“Plans for the Cherry Hills project, right?”
Declan smiled, and his dimples made an appearance through the brownish stubble on his face. Tiffany shook her legs beneath her desk a couple of times then stopped the nervous movement, glad he couldn’t see them.
“Yes,” he said. “For the parking garage.”
She rolled her chair back and stood, sliding her hands down the sides of her hips, hoping to smooth out any wrinkles in her skirt and secretly wishing to bring attention to her curves. She removed her sweater so the silk and lace tank top hidden beneath could be seen. When she flopped the garment over the back of her chair, she straightened her spine and pressed her ample breasts out.
“Follow me,” she said, tugging at the hem of her shirt.
Satisfied she’d given him a fairly good view of her hourglass figure, she glanced up. Declan stood beside her, and even though she wore four-inch heels, he towered above her. His height sort of intimidated her, but her body didn’t seem to impress him.
He pulled a cell phone from the leather holder hooked to his jeans and stared at the screen. “Sorry,” he said in a bored tone. “I forgot to send a text.”
His fingers tapped. He put the phone away in a lackadaisical manner. “Lead on.”
Unwilling to let his lack of interest faze her, she gave Declan her back and walked.
“The plans are in Mr. Stoub’s office.”
“Super,” he said.
She sashayed across the room with her chin held high, stopping at the marble counter across from the conference room and pointing toward the fancy coffeemaker. “There’s fresh coffee. Can I get you some?”
“No. I’m fine. But thanks for offering,” he said.
“Mm.” She continued toward the office, Declan following her. “Well.…” After walking in, she eyed several elongated white tubes sitting on top of the oversized desk and gestured toward one wingback chair.
“Have a seat. It will take me a second or two to find the right drawings.” She walked around the office furniture as Declan sat on the edge of the chair. Picking up one tube, she read the label.
“Sawyer,” she said and set it down in too much of a rush. Her hand accidently hit the other containers. They jostled and started to roll. She tried to stop their momentum, but several of the cylinders went over
the side and hit the floor.
“Geez Louise.” Tiffany sidestepped and bent to get them.
Declan had already jumped up to help her.
“Here, let me,” he said, coming to her side and squatting next to her.
When he reached for the mess, his right arm brushed against the top portion of her left shoulder. She sucked in a breath at the contact and thought her heart would stop from the frisson of energy snapping over her skin. Every part of her body became aware of him. He was potent. And virile. A rough, intoxicating man in his prime.
Refusing to be reduced to a quivering weakling, she reminded herself he was only a man, akin to any other, and turned to see his face. “Thank you.”
He met her gaze. “Anytime.”
Those eyes. The color of the sea. Deep, blue-green, and fathomless. Who was she trying to kid? Declan Cage wasn’t just any man. She looked away and focused on something else. Tiffany fixed her attention on the clutter she’d created, but she was still watching him—staring at his large hands while he gathered up the blueprint holders. She licked her lips and pictured those hands on her body, fondling her.
“Straddle me, sugar,” he said in a sandpaper voice, all grit.
Willing to go where she knew she shouldn’t tread, she did what he asked, throwing one leg over his lap, knees sinking into the leather cushion on either side of his denim clad thighs. His hands went to her hips. Slid down farther, where he stopped. His fingertips touched her flesh. Using his thumbs, he stroked the front of her thighs, undoing her. Shivers traversed her arms and legs. Her sex pulsed.
He inched her skirt up, working until the fabric bunched around her waist. When cool air struck the back of her thighs, one side of his mouth quirked up. He appeared pleased with himself for exposing her panties.
“I’ll give you exactly what you crave,” he said and ripped the thong from her body.
Tiffany sucked in a breath. He threw the tattered silk to the floor with his right hand while flicking her clit ring with the forefinger of his left. “Nice adornment.”
He tugged on her piercing, giving her the right amount of pressure. “But you need me to scratch your
itch, don’t you, baby?”
She’d come too far to lie about what she needed now. Nodding, she whispered, “Harder.”
He chuckled, and the sound was a flashpoint of sensation added to the slow stroke of the fingers he’d slipped between her crease.
She leaned forward, hand resting on the top of the sofa by his head, and kissed him. While their tongues tangled, he rubbed her, his other hand going to her hair where he tugged the clip, releasing the long strands. They tumbled down her back in time with his palm curling around the base of her neck, claiming her.
Oh, she liked the way he took possession. Everything feminine inside her needed the pure maleness of him.
Tiffany nibbled at his bottom lip, pulling scant inches from his mouth. “You make me burn,” she admitted.
“The feeling is mutual,” he said and plunged a finger inside of her.
“Ahh, yeah,” she uttered her approval.
He shoved his finger deeper. “You’re so wet.”
Her hand went to his bulging crotch. She squeezed him through his jeans. He groaned. With nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his fly, freeing his thick cock from the denim. When the heavy head rested in her palm, she smiled. He was fantastic, and she’d known from past experience he’d be commando. Wrapping her fingers around the base of his superb erection, she began to pump him.
“Hell, yes,” he said and fingered her in earnest, inserting another. His thumb pressed hard against her clitoris, sending heated spikes of sensation through her body.
She moaned, spreading the silken pre-cum leaking from him with her fingertip and licking her lips. Tiffany wanted to taste him. Put her lips over the crown. Skim her mouth along his shaft. Take him down the back of her throat. She swallowed, knowing the feeling when she took him inside her pussy would be even better. She needed to experience her sex stretched over the head of his dick again. The fiery invasion. The awareness of being totally filled when he pressed into her tight channel.
Her chest heaving, she mumbled, “Condom.”
“Sorry, sugar. We’ll have to settle for this,” he said. Declan removed his fingers from her body and tugged her hips down on him before he placed his steel between her feminine folds. “Slide your sweetness along the length of my cock.”
Oh, God. She was so slick, she easily made the glide up and down, her chest rubbing
In the next instant, he splayed his large hands across her ass, pulling her against him even tighter. This was good, sex without penetration, something she’d never done before, and the delicious sensation had her nipples pebbled hard against the material of her bra, but when he flicked out his tongue, everything got better. She moaned and gave him access to her neck, where he wasted no time and tickled the hollow of her throat before he nipped at the soft flesh with his teeth. She shivered.
“There you go.” The vibration of his deep voice sent a wave of pleasure across the canvas of her flesh. Every part of her body hungered for his touch. He slapped her ass.
She jumped and lost her rhythm—taken aback. “Faster,” he demanded, and she didn’t have time to consider if she liked the swat or not.
He spanked her again. “Move your fine ass.”
She complied, sliding herself up and down. He slapped her ass once more, but this time the sensation sent a buzz to her already-stimulated clit. The joy spreading across her caught— a wildfire.
“Again,” she uttered in a breathy voice.
“Like that, do you?”
God help her, she did.
Author Bio & Links:
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.
As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.
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