was all he needed to bring him close enough to feel her quickening breath against his chest. To see her pupils dilate. Whether her reaction was one of fury or the desire she denied, he didn’t care. Any response other than disdain would do at this point.
All he cared about was tasting her. Proving to himself that his memories were real.
Before she could snap out whatever snippy thing was burning on the tip of her tongue, he grabbed her shoulders. Pulling her close, he grinned down into her shocked face.
“Didn’t your momma ever warn you about riling a horny bull, sweetheart?”
Then he took her mouth. Under different circumstances, with a different woman, he’d have gone the gentlemanly route and coaxed the passion from her. With Sierra, he met power with power. He didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead he welcomed himself into the wet heat of her mouth with a swift thrust of his tongue.
She slapped her hands onto his chest as if to push him away. But one stroke, then two, of his tongue and her hands clenched his pecs instead, fingers curling and uncurling like a kneading cat.
Her purr of pleasure sent him from turned-on to rock-hard instantly. Tongues twined, lips meshed as he gave over to the heady flash of power. Their kiss was a smooth dance, intense and sexual.
His hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms, and he entwined his fingers in hers. Needing more, he pressed her forward until her back was to the wall, trapping her between the wainscoting and his body.
Their kiss, already hot, went into overdrive. She sucked his tongue into the silky depths of her mouth, the movement mimicking a blow job of epic proportions.
Reece groaned in desperate pleasure at the image. His dick, already rock-hard, strained painfully at the teasing reminder of what it wasn’t getting.
He took her hand, still linked with his, and slid it down his body. When he pressed it to his zipper, she gasped. Then her fingers clenched the rigid denim. She spread her fingers wide, moaning when they didn’t cover the length of him.
“Sierra?”
They both heard Belle call from the other room at the same time. Reece had to force himself to pull back. To resist the urge to grab her and drag her to the nearest room, where he could shut and lock the door. His breath coming fast, he met Sierra’s eyes.
Passion and something else blurred the blue depths. Then, with a flick of her long black lashes, it was gone. She gave his throbbing dick a soft pat, then withdrew her fingers. Her raised brow indicated she wanted loose.
Stepping away, Reece obliged.
“Sometimes huge is a good thing,” he said softly as she walked back toward the kitchen.
“And sometimes,” she said just as softly over her shoulder, “it just gets in the way.”
Chapter Three
SIERRA TUCKED a stray hair into her low ponytail and smoothed her palm over the stark white skirt of her poplin shirtdress. To keep the look from being too sweet, she’d paired the simple dress with red accessories and a killer pair of red leather heels. A fashionable yet unthreatening look that she hoped would put CEO Corinne Perkins and the rest of the uptight and upright Family powers-that-be at ease.
The elevator dinged her floor and she gripped her laptop case tighter as she joined the crowd pouring out. A glance at her watch assured her she was ten minutes early for the meeting. She’d intended to be twenty, but had been distracted by another photo delivery. This one had come with a note, too.
I’m Watching You.
Those three words had freaked her out. Even now, it was all she could do not to hide in the pseudo safety of the elevator.
Someone was serious about messing with her. And while she’d followed Belle’s mandate and furiously pored over their client list, noting every competitor or employee she’d ever pissed off, Sierra didn’t think they’d find the answer there.
Whoever was behind this was after her. Specifically. Not the company. It was too personal, too nasty to be anything else. And while she’d like to think she was woman enough to make a lasting impression on her past lovers, none of them were behind this. If they were, she reasoned, they’d know enough to make the pictures more realistic. They’d add in the mole on her hip, for instance.
As she forced herself out of the elevator, she fought back the biting grip of terror that had taken hold after the messages started arriving. The derogatory attacks on her worth, the slams on her sexuality. The ever-so-familiar insults that she hadn’t heard since she’d left her aunt and uncle’s home.
Anger and fear tangled together in her gut, but she ordered herself to shove them aside. Calling on all her control, she sucked in a deep breath and decided she could worry about it later. Her priority right now was nailing all the particulars of this account, and she’d be damned if she was going to let some pervert ruin it. Belle was counting on her. And more important, her own dreams were riding on it.
After that little pep talk and a few deep breaths, she greeted the HTT Publications receptionist and followed the conservative blonde into the boardroom. Belle and their favorite photographer were already there. Sierra was glad to see they were the only ones in the starkly modern room. She needed a few more minutes to shore up her composure.
“Sierra, great timing. You can tell Tristan what you think of his new look.” Belle gestured with wide eyes to the man sitting at the other end of the table. “He won’t believe me when I say he looks great.”
Catching Belle’s signal, Sierra made a show of checking out the photographer’s version of conservative. The entire team had agreed that this account was important enough to toe the line, which in Tristan’s case meant looking a little less over-the-top artist and a little…safer.
Taking in his transformation, Sierra wasn’t sure he really understood safe. No longer in a ponytail, his pitch-black hair was short and edgy, and his slumberous midnight eyes had that just-out-of-bed-with-a-half-dozen-women look in them. He’d even worn a suit, although the pegged black slacks and baggy pinstriped jacket over a T-shirt might be pushing that designation just a little.
“Great look,” she told him, meaning it. He was still gorgeous and artsy, but not so out-there that he’d freak out their conservative client. She hoped. “How many gals’ phone numbers did you get on the elevator ride up here?”
His mouth quirked into a grin and he shrugged. “Just the receptionist. She thinks she’d like to try and get into fashion modeling and wants my help with her portfolio.”
Sierra and Belle exchanged looks. The wild thing was, Tristan really thought the sweet little blonde was interested in his camerawork. For all his sexual energy and artistic eccentricities, the guy was a total innocent in many ways.
Baffling.
“Well, when the two of you are talking fashion,” she said, “be sure to keep in mind that this company prides itself on its conservative values. So no boinking on her desk.”
“Especially if the bosses are around,” Belle added with a smirk as she set up the planning and timeline boards.
“Even if they aren’t,” Sierra cautioned with a frown. The three of them had been friends
