Exceeding Boundaries

  Exceeding

  Boundaries

  by

  Mia Downing

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Exceeding Boundaries

  COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Mia Downing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, February 2012

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-280-4

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Lucy, Darah, Emma and Adam Levine.

  Chapter One

  Megan Connors stood in the corner of the conference room doorway, waiting for the brisk footsteps she knew all too well. She had waited for this day for six months, the day when she finally grew a pair of cajones big enough to seduce Adam Wentworth. Unfortunately for her nerves, he was late.

  The sexy lawyer had just made the youngest partner at their law firm, but that wasn’t what lured her. Besides being incredibly gorgeous in a dark haired, blue eyed, George Clooney fashion, the man was a known non-committer. A man whore, but in the nicest, sexiest sense. A ‘wine-them, dine-them and screw-them-thoroughly-senseless’ man whore who the women in the office swooned over.

  And that was exactly what Megan wanted—to be wined, dined and fucked senseless by a powerful, incredibly handsome man who knew a hell of a lot more than she did about sex.

  Footsteps echoed in the hall and Megan ran a nervous hand through her hair, brushing a lock from her face. Excitement zinged along her nerves, her mouth suddenly dry, nipples tingling. Phase One was in motion.

  She waited, timing each footstep as she had for the past four afternoons. Four strides to the corner, another six to the conference room doorway where she stood. She clutched the files to her chest, counting down—four, three, two—now or never. She sucked in her breath and stepped out into the hallway.

  She collided with his chest—manly steel beneath the expensive, tailored suit—and her ankle turned. Suddenly, she found herself ass-over-teakettle in the middle of the hall, papers fluttering around her on the hardwood floor. A heartbeat later he was on top of her—his hip digging into her groin, the toe of his shoe scraping her ankle, his tie blinding her, the silky end falling into her open mouth. Not at all the seductive meeting she envisioned for the past week.

  “Damn it, are you okay?” He struggled, arms and legs stiffening to keep from crushing her.

  She spat the end of his tie from her mouth, wishing she could look up into his eyes and bat her lashes, as planned. “I’m fine.”

  He rolled from her and his scent followed—a hint of musk and man. His tie went, too, and she could finally see the horror and concern lining his features. He supported himself on an elbow and brushed her hair from her mouth, his fingertips tracing her lips almost absentmindedly. The gentle touch went straight to her pussy, warming her folds with a sinful dampness. She tightened her thighs and shuddered at the breath of frosty air across them.

  Confusion reigned for a split second, then horror replaced excitement and she looked down. Her skirt had risen during the fall, the modest business garment now exposing thigh-high stockings she’d worn to impress him—later, though. Much, much later.

  Her gaze flew to meet his, but he had risen to his feet. His strong hands grasped her under her arms, and she stood, trying desperately to shimmy her skirt back into position.

  She snuck a peek at his face and noticed a flare of something in his eyes—hopefully lust. She summoned her courage to continue with the seduction. Maybe a flash of skin had been a good thing. It’s not like she ran out into the hall and whipped her skirt up over her head. She had no reason to feel ashamed.

  “Megan?”

  She blinked, realizing he’d been speaking to her. “Yes?”

  “I asked if you hurt anything when I fell on you. I’m sorry.” He bent and began shuffling papers together, his cheeks flushed.

  “I’m fine, really, Adam. Let me help with that.” Megan reached and grabbed a file folder just as he did, his strong fingers brushing hers. What she wouldn’t give to feel those fingers on her skin, preferably under her skirt. A moment later, the papers were sorted and back in their files, and they stood awkwardly toe to toe.

  “Well, here. Again, I’m sorry.” Adam handed the file back to her and made to step around her.

  “Wait!” She clutched the file folder to her chest, almost in desperation. She looked up to the mistletoe that hung overhead and began the next phase of her seduction. “There’s mistletoe.”

  He followed her gaze to the ceiling where a ball of white berries and green foliage dangled over her head.

  “It’s January,” he said, looking doubtful, even a bit uneasy. His blue eyes darted to hers, and a moment of anger bubbled up inside of her. Damn it, he was a man-whore. She would have thought he’d leap at the chance to kiss her, even if she wasn’t quite his type.

  “I don’t think mistletoe expires.” Megan tried to simper but failed miserably and instead gave him a sheepish grin. “I think you owe me, after bowling me over like that.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He glanced up at the mistletoe then at her, his gaze harder, darker than it had been before. Yet he didn’t move a muscle in her direction.

  “Chicken?” Oh God, had she just said that aloud? She couldn’t call it back so instead she played hurt, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a hip in her best injured, tough-girl stance.

  He sighed, still looking doubtful as he stepped closer, his dark hair falling slightly into his blue eyes as he drew near. Her heart hammered in her chest, thudding so loud he could probably hear it over her increasingly raspy breathing. Thank God for her suit jacket, hiding the steel points of nipples poking beneath.

  He cupped her chin and dipped his head. His breath fell upon her lips in ragged puffs, smelling of fresh mint. Her eyes fluttered closed and his mouth covered hers, feather light on her lips. She sighed, wishing she were closer to him so she could melt against his chest.

  Then it was over. Her eyes fluttered open in confusion. Adam still cupped her chin, his face just millimeters from hers. He swallowed, the sound breaking the heavy silence hanging in the air between them.

  “That’s it?” she mumbled, again aware a moment too late she’d spoken her thoughts. “You call that a kiss?” The man needed to look up the definition of man-whore and study it, because he sure wasn’t acting like one.

  “Demanding, aren’t you?” A chuckle rumbled in his chest.

  “You topple me in hallway, trample my papers and then give me a wimpy kiss? My two-year-old nephew greets me with more enthusiasm than that.” This was definitely not the seduction she’d envisioned, and damn it, she deserved better for once in her life.

  “We’re in the office. I didn’t think you’d enjoy a public display of affection.”

  She knew that was an excuse—he kissed Barbara in accounting full on the lips at the holiday party when she had been under the mistletoe. She would have bet ten bucks he even slipped her some tongue. “It’s after-hours, and everyon
e is gone. You know that as well as I. So man-up and kiss me properly, so I can go home.”

  Was she imagining things, or did the hand on her chin tremble ever-so-slightly as he tipped her head to his? A moment later his mouth slanted over hers, firmer this time. Warmer.

  She closed her eyes and swayed slightly, enjoying the surge of need bubbling in her stomach. He pulled her closer and her chest met his. His other hand wrapping around her waist, his fingers brushing the top of her ass.

  His mouth moved expertly, almost dancing, caressing the sensitive skin of her bottom lip. He nipped her upper lip, then her lower. He pulled her hips a little closer, and the heat from his groin radiated against hers. His tongue darted and touched her bottom lip, wetting it before sliding between. Her tongue jumped to meet his but met air as he pulled away, his hand falling from her chin.

  No, no, no! No, not when I want more! She paused for a moment, glad she didn’t voice that aloud.

  “Better?” he asked, his breath ragged.

  She met his gaze and finally found what she wanted to see—lust and need danced there, all because of their kiss. Because of her. She resisted the urge to crow and instead went for the kill.

  She untangled herself from his arms, turned, and began to walk away. She said over her shoulder, “Very nice. I’ll see you Monday.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his tailored trousers were slightly tented.

  “Nice?” He raised his arms in surrender. “That was a really good kiss. Much better than your nephew’s kiss, I bet.”

  “Yes, better.” She shifted her attention forward, her voice echoing from the wooden walls, and she hoped her elation wasn’t crystal clear. “But not much better. I think that was blind-date or let’s be friends nice. Maybe next year you’ll have a chance to do better.”

  And with that, the trap was bated. She hustled to her office, wondering if he’d rise to the challenge to do better or let her get the best of him? Time to see if Phase Two would fall neatly in to place.

  ****

  For ten minutes Megan waited patiently to execute Phase Two, her hand on the door of the office building. The sky had clouded over and concealed the winter stars that usually greeted her, leaving the evening dark and dreary under the dim yellow streetlights.

  She tugged her scarf around her neck and glanced at her watch—he’d never been this late. But then she saw a flash of deep red on the side street and stepped out, down the twelve steps to the main street. Her heart pounded almost louder than the rev of the sport car’s engine as it turned the corner and sped along next to her, then slid to a halt.

  “Need a ride?”

  Her heart pounded even louder as she stopped and turned. Adam leaned across the black leather seat, his face unreadable in the dim light. She wanted to scream yes and vault into the car, but instead she tugged the neckline of her coat closer to her body to ward off the freezing temperatures. “I’m only a few blocks away.”

  He punched a button in the car and looked at a display. “It’s ten degrees. Get in.”

  “But—”

  “Megan. Get in.” The firmness of his voice left no avenue for escape—not that she wanted it. Her thong dampened at the thought of that deep voice ordering her to do devilish things to him.

  He shoved his coat into the backseat while she opened the door and slid into the warmth. She drew a ragged breath and caught a whiff of his musky cologne, driving her libido insane. A scent that powerful shouldn’t be legal.

  “Where to?”

  “I live just a few blocks this way. I’ll tell you when to turn. I know this is out of your way—thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Adam negotiated oncoming traffic and the car purred off toward her home.

  “Nice car—not what I expected you’d drive, though,” she murmured as she glanced around the interior. She had expected something European, something sleek that screamed money and power. Not that this car didn’t—she knew it cost a pretty penny with all the bells and whistles this baby included. But American muscle didn’t seem to fit his office persona.

  “Did you expect something stuffy like Walter’s?” He grinned over at her at the mention of the conservative first partner. “Sorry. I’m an all-American boy.” His grin softened to a smile. “I meant to tell you today, you did a heck of a job on that case.”

  Adam had never complimented her on a case before, though she’d tried hard to get his approval. She swallowed. “Thank you.”

  He went on to ask a few questions about the details, and she found herself chatting easily. Now that she thought of it, she’d never had more than a few lines of conversation with him. He always seemed too busy to stick around long. But now she had him right where she wanted him—captive in his car. Hopefully soon to be captive in her arms.

  “This is my house,” she said, pointing to the brick townhouse.

  He pulled over, slid the stick shift into neutral, and engaged the parking break. Her thigh rested a breath from his hand—she could feel the warmth radiating from it—and she longed for him to brush his fingers against her skin. She hesitated, not sure how long this phase of her plan would need for its execution or if he’d even care to attempt to kiss her.

  “So when do I get to try that kiss again?”

  Her heart accelerated in tempo. She turned to face him to find he’d leaned toward her, his face so close, his breath warm on her lips.

  “Has a year passed already?” she asked, allowing her tongue to dampen her lower lip. She tried to meet his gaze, but the darkness concealed his features.

  “I can’t have you spreading office gossip that I’m a poor kisser.” His voice sounded deeper, huskier—hopefully from lust.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” she said on a breath that had taken every ounce of strength to draw from her lungs.

  He drew even nearer until his lips brushed the side of her mouth, tickling her senses. His hand cupped her jaw, his fingers warm and firm on her skin, then slid back to her nape to pull her forward.

  This time, his mouth slanted across hers with a scorching heat, a firmness that showed his determination to prove he could knock her socks off. She opened her mouth to his, allowing him the access his parted mouth demanded. His tongue swept inside, tangling with hers, insisting she follow his lead. She moaned and threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers.

  Could her nipples pebble any tighter? She didn’t think so, until his fingers brushed her breast through the thickness of her coat. The nub tightened harder under the strength of his touch. She wanted to ease him between her thighs, to have his cock firm against her mound, but the damned car was too small. Instead, she slipped her hand under his suit jacket, her fingers caressing his chest, then his firm stomach, hesitating at his belt—

  She couldn’t do it, couldn’t grab his cock and give it a promising squeeze, one that would seal the deal and have him trotting up the stairs after her. She fought the dark memories that had held her prisoner for so long and turned her attention to the masculine hand that had finally left the gear shift to sear a path up her inner thigh.

  Yes, those long fingers grazing the top of her lacy stockings would definitely make her bold again. The dampness in her channel heated, and she slid down on the seat, spreading her legs slightly. His fingers inched up, feather light, until one brushed the inner seam of her panties and another grazed the silky material right above her clit. Her pussy walls clenched with delight, and though she would give anything to have him fingerfuck her right there, she knew she was bold enough to finish her plan.

  She drew away, ending their kiss, her breath quick in her throat. His breathing matched hers, and in the dim light of the dashboard, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Well?” he demanded as he sat back into his seat, his voice incredibly deep, sexy, and ragged.

  “Very, very nice. Thank you.”

  He laughed at her weak praise and covered his face with his hands. “Good Lord, woman, can I ever please you?
”

  He wasn’t looking, so she cast a glance to his crotch—a nice bulge was nestled between his thighs. She wet her lips and slyly offered, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

  He swallowed again and opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Her bravado began to falter as he swallowed one more time and ran a hand through his hair.

  “If I come in, if I kiss you again…” He turned toward her and a shaft of dim light danced off the depth of the lust in his eyes. “I won’t be able to stop, Megan.”

  “I know.” Power swept into her, fanning her desire like a gust igniting a spark. She held the cards, she was in control. “Why do you think I invited you in?” She slid from the car, not waiting, knowing he’d be at her side in a second.

  Phase Three had begun.

  Chapter Two

  Megan was right in thinking Adam would be there at her side in a second—make that a nanosecond as he leapt from the car and took the stairs to her front door two at a time.

  Adam held the door for her and they filed into her foyer, the light dim. She flicked on the light and held her hand out for his coat, her eyes finally meeting his. An uncertainty flooded his face, one that set her on edge.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She took his coat and hung it up, wondering what made him think twice—man whores didn’t think once, never mind twice. Maybe she was too forward? Maybe she wasn’t his type. She had to know. “I think I made my position quite clear. You don’t seem to be so sure, though.”

  Adam stepped closer, towering over her, brushing a wisp of hair from her cheek. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. Wanted you so much that I can’t bear to be in the same room with you. As a rule, I don’t date women I work with, definitely not ones in the same office. It’s too risky. But you…” His blue eyes searched hers, sending a thrill up her spine. Could she be hearing him right? “I’m willing to throw caution to the wind and worry about the office later. I want you that badly.”