tongue, pressing those amazing breasts against him—holding him just as tightly as he had been holding her.
He found himself in his office by five-thirty the next morning, running a seven-minute mile on his treadmill. He had the international market report up on the screen in front of him, but he wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to it.
Instead, he was wondering what the hell he was going to do about Serena.
She was pregnant. And when she’d come out in those gowns, she’d glowed. She’d always been beautiful—a bright, positive smile for any occasion with nary a manipulating demand in sight—but yesterday she’d taken his breath away over and over again.
He was totally, completely, one hundred percent confounded by Serena Chase. The women in Chadwick’s world did not refuse expensive clothing and jewelry. They spent their days planning how to get more clothes, better jewels and a skinnier body. They whimpered and pleaded and seduced until they got what they wanted.
That’s what his mother had always done. Chadwick doubted whether Eliza and Hardwick had ever really loved each other. She’d wanted his money, and he’d wanted her family prestige. Whenever Eliza had caught Hardwick in flagrante delicto—which was often—she’d threaten and cry until Hardwick plunked down a chunk of change on a new diamond. Then, when one diamond wasn’t enough, he started buying them in bulk.
Helen had been like that, too. Oh, she didn’t threaten, but she did pout until she got what she wanted—cars, clothes, plastic surgery. It had been so much easier to just give in to her demands than deal with the manipulation. In the last year before she filed for divorce, she’d only slept with him when he’d bought her something. Not that he’d enjoyed it much, even then.
Somehow, he’d convinced himself he was fine with that. He didn’t need to feel passion because passion left a man wide open for the pain of betrayal. Because there was always another betrayal around the next corner.
But Serena? She didn’t cry, didn’t whine and didn’t pout. She never treated him like he was a pawn to be moved until she got what she wanted, never treated him like he was an obstacle she had to negotiate around.
She didn’t even want to let him buy her a dress that made her feel beautiful.
He punched the treadmill up another mile per hour, running until his lungs burned.
He could not be lusting after his assistant and that was final.
This was just the result of Helen moving out of their bedroom over twenty-two months before, that was all. And they hadn’t had sex for a couple of months before that. Yes, that was it. Two years without a woman in his arms—without a woman looking at him with a smile, without a woman who was glad to see him.
Two years was a hell of a long time.
That’s all this was. Sexual frustration manifesting itself in the direction of his assistant. He hadn’t wanted to break his marriage vows to Helen, even in the middle of their never-ending divorce. Part of that was a wise business decision—if Helen found out that he’d had an affair, even after their separation, she wouldn’t sign off on the divorce until he had nothing left but his name.
But part of that was refusing to be like his father.
Except his father totally would have lavished gifts on his secretary and then kissed her.
Hell.
Finally his legs gave out, but instead of the normal clarity a hard run brought him, he just felt more muddled than ever. Despite the punishing exercise, he was no closer to knowing what he was supposed to do when Serena came in for their morning meeting.
Oh, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to lay her out on his desk and lavish her curves with all the attention he had. He wanted her to straddle him. He wanted to bring her to a shuddering, screaming climax, and he wanted to hold her afterwards and fall asleep in her arms.
He didn’t just want to have sex.
He wanted to have Serena.
Double damn.
He threw himself into his shower without bothering to touch the hot water knob. The cold did little to shock him back to his senses, but at least it knocked his erection down to a somewhat manageable level.
This was beyond lust. He had a need to take care of her—to not fail her. That was why he’d bought her nice things, right? Sure. He was just rewarding her loyalty.
She’d said that her ex hadn’t responded to her email. There—that was something he could do. He could get that jerk to step up to the plate and at least acknowledge that he’d left Serena in a difficult situation. Yeah, he liked that idea—making Neil Moore toe the line was a perfectly acceptable way of looking out for his best employee, and it didn’t involve kissing her. He doubted that Serena would hold Neil responsible for his legal obligations—but Chadwick had no problem putting that man’s feet to the fire.
He shut the water off and grabbed his towel. He was pretty sure he had Neil’s information in his phone. But where had he left it?
He rummaged in his pants pocket for a few minutes before he remembered he’d set it down on his desk when he came in.
He opened the door and walked into his office—and found himself face-to-face with Serena.
“Chadwick!” she gasped. “What are you—”
“Serena!” It was then that he remembered the only thing he had on was a towel. He hadn’t even managed to dry off.
Her mouth was frozen in a totally kissable “oh,” her eyes wide as her gaze traveled down his wet chest.
Desire pumped through him, hard. All he’d have to do would be to drop the towel and show her exactly what she did to him. Hell, at the rate he was going, he wouldn’t even have to drop the towel. She wasn’t blind and his body wasn’t being subtle right now.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “I didn’t realize....”
“Just checking my phone.” Just thinking about you. He glanced at his clock. She was at least an hour ahead of schedule. “You’re early.”
“I wanted...I mean, about last night...” She seemed to be trying to get herself back under control, but her gaze kept drifting down. “About the kiss...” A furious blush made her look innocent and naughty at the same time.
He took a step forward, all of his best intentions blown to hell by the look on her face. The same look she’d had the night before when he’d kissed her. She wanted him.
God, that made him feel good.
“What about the kiss?”
Finally, she dropped her gaze from his body to the floor. “It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was unprofessional and I apologize.” She rushed through the words in one breath, sounding like she’d spent at least half the night rehearsing that little speech. “It won’t happen again.”
Wait—what? Was she taking all the blame for that? No. It’s not like she’d shoved him against the wall and groped him. He was the one who’d pulled her into his arms. He was the one who’d lifted
