His Secretary's Little Secret Read online

  “Do you have friends over? If you need to go, that’s okay.”

  “I’m studying. You know how I like white noise in the background.”

  “I do remember.” Her brother had had a tough time in school and she’d worked hard to help him stay on track. His grades hadn’t been good enough for a scholarship and it was taking him an extra year to graduate. But as long as he finished, she would be happy.

  “What can I do for you, sis?”

  An excellent question. She had no idea what anyone could do for her. She hadn’t even really had a reason to call Marshall. “I’m just calling to let you know I’m okay since the weather is so bad here.”

  “Um, the weather’s bad there? I really have been locked down studying. I didn’t even know there was a problem. Should I be on the lookout for a tropical storm or hurricane to swing my way?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s just heavy rain. And maybe I needed to hear my little brother’s voice.” She poured bubbles into the tub, watched them grow, blanketing the top level of water.

  “You’re the best. Really. I appreciate it.”

  “Marshmallow—um, you don’t mind if I still call you that, do you?”

  His rich laughter made her smile. She was so damn proud of him.

  “No problem, sis. Just don’t post it online or anything.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” She tested the water in the tub, appreciating the warmth.

  “Thanks. And hey, be careful, okay?” A note of concern darkened his voice. “You work too hard and deserve a rest. I’ve been thinking I should take next year off and get a job, sock away some money and give you a break. You could go on a cruise or something.”

  Panic iced her. She loved her brother as much as if he were her own child—she’d practically raised him, after all. Held his hand as he learned to walk, wiped his tears when he scraped his knees, helped him with his spelling words. She feared if he stopped with school he would never go back. She’d seen it happen with other students, and she especially worried for him given how hard his learning disability made things for him. “Don’t even entertain the notion. You are so close to finishing. Once you have your computer science degree, you’re going to be so much more hirable. Just hang in there.”

  “We can talk at the end of the summer.”

  “You’re going to break my heart if you don’t finish. Please, see this through.”

  “What about you make me a promise as well to take care of yourself?”

  “I will.” She would have to tell Marshall about the baby soon, but not until he’d enrolled for the fall. She didn’t want to distract him from his studies any sooner than necessary.

  And of course, she still had to tell Easton, too. As soon as she had her doctor’s appointment. One more week.

  “Do you promise?” he pressed.

  “Yes, I promise. I will relax. I went out to dinner tonight with, um, friends, and in fact, I have a bubble bath calling my name. So I should sign off. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She disconnected the call, putting the phone back in her purse, attention fully on the bath. She shimmied out of her clothes without the least thought of neatly folding them. For once, she had too much on her mind to care. The chill on her skin urged her to get beneath the blanket of warm water.

  As she slid into the filling bath, her hands instinctively went to her stomach. She and Marshmallow would have a bigger family soon, a caring, close family. Another redeeming thought? This baby would offer her another chance to be a mom, this time an older and wiser one.

  And what kind of father would Easton be? Involved? Distant? A playmate or educator?

  She knew how he worked with a sense of fun and creativity, and she knew how he felt against her. Intensely focused on her needs and unwavering in his attention.

  All of her thoughts led back to that night. The sustained thunder reminded her of the thunder from that other storm. How soothing Easton had been, how caring.

  Portia inhaled deeply, listening to the sounds of the storm, watching the flame crackle to itself until her eyes grew heavy and she slipped into sleep...

  * * *

  Flashes of awareness entered her vision. As a non-Florida native, the power of the tropical storm terrified her. Easton’s good-natured teasing shifted into pure comfort. In the storm shelter, he slid his arm around her.

  That’s when she felt yet again the undeniable heat between them at a time when she was too damn vulnerable. Marshall was close to failing out of college and losing hope that he could finish. She couldn’t let her hard work and sacrifice be for nothing. She was scared for her brother’s future. She was scared for her own future, listening to the storm rage.

  Her defenses were down, and her heart was oh so vulnerable. She simply couldn’t find the resolve to resist her attraction to Easton any longer. A passion she hadn’t come close to feeling in her past two relationships with men, both more conventional types like her.

  The attraction to Easton had burned into her with those blue-fire eyes, and before long, she wandered into the bathroom with him, first with a pointed look, then him following down the short hall to the tiny room with a simple shower stall.

  They snuck in there, peeling themselves away from the others in the storm shelter.

  “Portia,” he said her name simply, the syllables so sexy coming from his mouth.

  “No words. Just...” She couldn’t find a way to express to him what she felt without giving away too much. She’d been attracted to his good looks from the start, but the physical was superficial. She’d been able to hold out, especially fearful of being seen as a gold digger like her mother.

  But over time, she’d been drawn all the more by his intelligence as well as his compassion around animals. Now here they were, acting on that attraction. She didn’t want to think beyond that. She reached for him.

  Or he reached for her. She wasn’t sure who moved first. She only knew the attraction, the passion—the craving—was entirely mutual. Their first kiss felt like one of ultimate familiarity. Like coming home. Like one of a lover who’d known her for an eternity.

  She wanted more. She wanted it all, regardless of where they were or how they’d ended up here or what tomorrow could hold because she couldn’t think that far into the future. She whispered her need to him and he answered in kind as he lifted her onto the sink. She felt the ripples of his honed muscles as he managed the maneuver in an effortless sweep. He was such a fascinating mix of brains and brawn, privilege and earthiness.

  “You’re so beautiful, so enchanting, so sexy. You’ve turned me inside out countless times with those take-no-bull eyes and the confident toss of your head. I’ve been burning to touch your hair, to take it down and feel it,” he whispered onto her skin with kisses, pressing his mouth into her flesh as his hands skimmed over her French twist. His fingers plucked at the pins and they clinked against the sink behind her one at a time as fast as her racing heart.

  Her mind blurred with passion. Their hands a frenzy as they pulled up shirts. Opened pants. Touched. Explored.

  Found.

  The room was dimly lit and small, his body close to hers with minimal room to step back. Yet driven by need she wriggled and he positioned. And he thrust inside her.

  Her head fell back, a husky moan rolling up her throat. He captured it with his mouth, then skimmed a kiss along her ear, whispering gently shhh, shhh, shhh. Reminding her of the people a short hall away.

  She dug her fingernails into Easton’s shoulders, rolling her hips in sync with him, meeting him move for move. Their lovemaking ignited her every nerve, leaving her feeling, for the first time in a long time, connected.

  For years, Portia had carefully constructed walls, pushed people outside to remain focused on providing a good life for her brother. She still wanted that
. But she also wanted more. She wanted this. She wanted Easton.

  Every kiss and every thrust reminded her of how lonely she’d been for years. For her whole life even. Each move and touch imprinted on her body and mind how exciting this was. How exciting they were together.

  “Portia.”

  Her name sounded like a promise on his tongue, caressing her ear. Calming her senses but bringing her body to life. The beating of her heart sped up, becoming more ferocious and urgent.

  And her name again. “Portia?”

  No longer a promise, but a question...

  * * *

  Bolting upright awake, she grabbed the side of the tub and sloshed water over the sides, realizing she’d been asleep. Easton was, in fact, calling her name—but just from the other side of the door. Portia looked across the bathroom, a different and more spacious one than in her dream.

  The bathwater had cooled, chilling her overheated flesh. She glanced at the door, then down to the haphazard pile of her clothes on the tile floor. Water pooled along the Saltillo squares. A lot of water. She must have splashed and thrashed during her nap in the tub leaving her clothes totally soggy...

  And impossible to wear.

  * * *

  Easton rapped his knuckles on the door. Portia had scurried away an hour ago. In the last ten minutes, his desire to give her space ebbed, replaced by worry. He’d imagined her sick, or passed out on the floor.

  “Portia? Are you okay? I’m getting worried.” He called again, fingering the plush white hotel robe he held ready for her, “Portia, answer please or I’m going to need to open the door.”

  “I’m okay.”

  Finally. Thank God. The sound of her husky voice soothed him slightly.

  “I’m sorry for disturbing your bath.” He pressed his forehead to the door in relief, the cool wood soothing his overheated brow. “I apologize for upsetting you into bolting away earlier. I don’t know what I said, but you have to know I would never deliberately hurt you.”

  “I’m really okay.”

  Still, he couldn’t step away. “Are you going to spend the night in there?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Do you plan to come out anytime soon?” He angled back and stared at the door, as if that act alone would cause it to swing open.

  “I was thinking I would come back in there right after you go to sleep.”

  “Well, that’s a problem because there’s only one bathroom in here and I’m going to need to step in there before bed. Or rather before I go to sleep on the sofa.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry about that. I’ll be right out.”

  More rustling water sounds echoed, followed by drips of water. The lock popped open, and she stood in front of him. Damp tangled hazelnut hair, the small white towel wrapped around her, accentuating her curves.

  Air pulled away from him. Damn, she was sexy. She turned him inside out in a way he remembered well from their night together but he had wondered if his memory was faulty.

  He had tried his best to get answers from her. To be a gentleman. To get closer to her on a more cerebral level.

  But that hadn’t gotten him jack squat. He didn’t understand her any more now than he ever had. But he recognized the heat between them. And damned if he didn’t see that same simmering warmth reflected in her eyes.

  On to Plan B.

  Hungry for her touch, he reached for Portia.

  Six

  His lips found hers, catching her by surprise until she almost stumbled back into the bathroom.

  All the tension she’d been storing in her body seemed to flood out of her as she unfolded into the moment. In the taste of his lips, the curve of his tongue. Her nerves melted, all tension over thoughts of meeting him in only a towel leaving her.

  For this evening, here in this hotel honeymoon suite she could be a little foolish. Give in to the chemistry between them. Hell, she wanted him. Like with the kiss in the car, she didn’t have much time to be with him, to get to know him, to explore every inch of him. Because her plan to put boundaries between them wasn’t going to work. It wasn’t boss and secretary time, not anymore.

  She would have to find her way to a new peace with him. She would have to find a way to have him and her independence, too. And while this might seem reckless, playing it safe hadn’t worked. And once the news of her pregnancy came out, her window of time to explore avenues for connecting with him would narrow. Considerably.

  He sighed heavy against her, taking a step back deeper into the living area. Closer to the sprawling bed. A rush of cold air pressed against her chest and neck, a palpable absence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab for you like a caveman. I saw you in the towel and, well, damn, I couldn’t think straight.” He nodded past her, toward the bathroom. “I realize now your clothes are damp and hanging out to dry. You didn’t have a choice but to wear the towel.”

  She leaned into him, the rain-fresh scent of him tempting her all the more. “If I’d wanted you to stop kissing me, I would have said so.”

  His eyebrows shot upward. “Really?”

  “Really. I’m a mature woman. I know what I want and I am capable of speaking my mind.” At least, for right now, she knew she needed his touch. All of him. Reality could wait until the sunrise.

  “And what would that be? I need to hear you say what you want before I make another move.”

  “I want you.” She stepped back, closer to the bed, unable to miss the way his eyes lingered on her long hair falling in damp and loose strands. “Right now, I want you to keep kissing me and more. I want us to explore the attraction we found that night of the tropical storm. To take it further and take our time. I wasn’t planning this, but let’s see where it goes.”

  “Well, I’m very glad to hear that since I want you, too. So damn much.” He reached for her and she took another step back. He tipped his head, intensity stamped all over his face. “Are you going to drop the towel?”

  “Are you going to undress for me?” Her gaze roamed over his muscled body, wanting to see and feel more of him.

  “My pleasure.” He began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “I believe it will be mine. We didn’t get to see each other before.” So much of the sensations of the night had been lost to frenzy. She wanted to know every inch of him.

  “No, we didn’t.” He tossed aside his cotton button-down, revealing the sun-bronzed chest she’d admired more than once while he’d been swimming. “I’m not arguing with you by any means, but what brought about this change of heart?”

  “Do you need to know why? Can it be enough to know I want to be close to you tonight? Because I do, so very much.” She gripped the towel in her fist, holding it closed as the water nearly steam dried off her warming body. “This day may not have been what we planned, but I have enjoyed being with you. I’m not ready for it to end.”

  “Portia...” He gritted his teeth, obviously wanting to say more.

  “That’s all I can give,” she answered softly, honest in this much at least.

  He gave in with a growl of frustration and desire. “Okay, beautiful lady, that’s good enough for me tonight.”

  He toed off his shoes and tugged off his socks.

  His hand fell to his belt buckle and then to the zipper of his khakis. He kicked his pants aside and there was nothing left between them except her towel and his boxers. His erection strained the waistband, attesting to just how much he wanted her.

  The towel slid from her grip and his eyes went wide with appreciation. A step later from her—from him—and they stood chest to chest, mouths meeting.

  His hand wandered to her damp hair, the movement bringing them closer. Easton kissed her, tongue exploring, urgency mounting. Her hands outlined circling swirls on his skin, enjoying the way he seemed to respond t
o her touch. His kiss becoming more urgent with every sweep of her fingertips.

  He walked her backward toward the bed until her legs met the mattress. A gentle nudge sent her onto her back—into the downy blue duvet, pillows scattering.

  She pulled back from him, eyes adjusting to the dim light, appreciating his body and the hungry look in his eyes. Portia stared up at him through her lashes, worried he might notice the changes in her body, in particular the swell of her breasts. Or would he just write off the differences to mistaken memory over time? Or perhaps to the fact that they hadn’t even had the opportunity to look closely enough that night? She certainly hadn’t been able to gaze her fill of him.

  He leaned her back on the bed, the coolness of the cotton bedspread pressing against her skin—a stark contrast to the heat of his body. Wandering lips found her collarbone, and her hands tugged at his boxers, pulling them off. He angled on top of her.

  His hand tucked between her legs, his fingers finding the damp core of her, stroking and coaxing and dipping inside. His touch slickened; he rubbed over the bud of her arousal.

  Tonight was already so different from the evening of the other storm, the night they’d quickly and impulsively made love. Every kiss tonight was more deliberate, more passionate. She bit his lower lip, and he growled in response, pressing into her. She hooked her right leg around his, needing him to get closer. Her heart bolted at a maddening pace, her excitement intensifying as his hands brushed back her hair so he could kiss her neck. Her lips.

  Palming his chest, she traced him with her other hand, trailing down, down, farther still until she cupped his straining need, wrapping her fingers around the length of him. A groan of pleasure hissed from between his teeth just before he pressed his lips to hers again.

  He stole her breath, and she stole his right back. Their tongues met, thrusted and stroked just as their hands touched and caressed each other. Each touch brought her closer to completion and his quickening breaths between kisses told her he was equally near the edge.