It's time for Mid Week Tease where my author friends and I post a little something from a WIP, flash fiction piece or from some of our published work for you, the readers. This week is a little somethin' from my current WIP, Spanked by the Bad Boy, which will be the first book in my Bad Boy Fever series. I shared a little of Declan and Tiffany's story on a previous MWT, and I'm oh, so close to the complition of their story with Spanked. *Smiles*
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 enters 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 that prissy attitude of hers, 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 the indiscretion of her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?
Declan’s eyes rounded when Ms. Brooks stepped out, came around, and gave a bump to the car door with her hip. She’d done something different with her hair. Her long locks didn’t flow past her shoulders like usual, but had been pulled up, freeing the canvas of her neck. She stood there in a tight tan skirt that ended well above her sexy knees, wearing a sleeveless white, almost see through blouse that had a plunging neck line. She was legs, cleavage and curves. It took him a minute to realize that tucked under her arm, a long cylinder protruded. The new specs from Matthew, he guessed. In her hand, she balanced a box from Dunkin Donuts and what looked like his hoodie. When she started to teeter, he wanted to grump at her for wearing fucking high heels to a construction site and trying to navigate her way through a gravel drive.
What in the hell was she thinking?
She was half way to his office when he heard the muffled sounds of men hooting. Son of a bitch. He’d go out and greet her and that would put an end to their hound-dog behavior. At least it damn well better. He paused for a moment, and considered he didn’t want his men to be looking at her. The realization took him aback. He was darkly possessive of a woman he knew hardly anything about, other than she had a penchant for prim prissiness, tended to date losers who wore expensive suits because she had some crazy notion that would somehow better herself, did a little snort when she laughed, and worked for Matthew Stoub. Hell, he’d never even touched her. Well, not really. Not in a way that would count. Frowning, he supposed he was going to need to remedy both situations by getting to know her and by most assuredly touching her in interesting places.
Shoving his ponderings to the back of his thoughts, he put his Coke can on the top of the AC, and roughly opened his office door before he stepped onto the landing. The whistles and other vulgar noises coming from the workers stopped. He smirked. Happy to know his presence shut them the hell up.
“What happened to Matthew?” he asked as he practically ran down the stairs to get to her.
“Mr. Stoub had a scheduling conflict.” She held up the box of donuts. “I brought snacks though.” She took a step and lurched.
Declan looked down. One of her heels had sunk into the gravel. He took a hold of the donut container she had, taking it in one hand, helping her with his other. She latched on to his forearm and wiggled her foot until she was free.
“Ah ha!” Her face beamed as if the un-lodging was a eureka moment, and let loose of her hold on his arm.
“Don’t you know those things are hazardous to your health? Especially wearing them to a construction site. We have rocks, nails, dirt piles, planks, heavy equipment that cause ruts, and generally nasty stuff going on out here.”
Tiffany sniffed. “They match my skirt, and besides, I always wear high heels.”
She started walking on the balls of her feet, clearly trying to keep the back of those stupid shoes up off the ground. Declan grinned. She looked adorable trying to walk that way.
They had made the short trek across the gravel and were at the base of the stairs when he bounded up them and held the door open for her.
“After you, Ms. Brooks.”
“Thanks,” she said.
She carefully ascended the five steps, and he had the pleasure of watching her do so, then breeze past where he stood. His gaze went to her luscious backside.
She has one hell of an ass.
As soon as she stepped inside his office, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He stopped imagining all the things he wanted to do to her rounded bottom—like spank that ass until it turned the perfect shade of strawberry red—and stared into her eyes.
“Are you coming in, Mr. Cage?”
“Yep,” he said.
He went in and shut the door behind them, ticked that he was semi-erect beneath his jeans from nothing more than watching her walk past him, but she did shake her assets while wearing a skirt that clung to her like a second skin. Still, he wasn’t a horny teenager. Hell, in his thirty-one years, he’d seen plenty of beautiful women shake what the good Lord gave them, and it didn’t make him sport a stiff one so quickly like it did with her.
Declan placed the donut container on the table by the coffee cups before turning around to see her again. She had already put the cylinder containing the blueprints on his desk with his sweater folded neatly alongside it, and was seated on the black leather couch across from him—legs crossed—her skirt riding up into dangerous territory. Shit. Ms. Brooks possessed this type of innate sexuality that turned everything she did, from the batting of her long lashes, to the way she sensually moved, into a real peep show that he wanted to observe.
“Damn, Sugar. You sure know how to tempt a man.”
She fiddled with her earring. “I’m not here to tempt you, Mr. Cage. I’m here because my boss asked me to bring you those prints.” Her blue eyes briefly gazed at the tube on his desk before she returned to an eye-to-eye stare with him. “I’m to let you know Mr. Stoub will call you later on today. I’m supposed to apologize for his scheduling conflict. Thus, the donuts.” She looked at him in a way she’d never done before. Her face wasn’t as smugly cool and impassive as it usually was when she spoke to him, but softer somehow. “And, on a more personal note, thank you for the other night and the use of your sweater. I washed it, so it’s clean.”
“You’re welcome, but you didn’t need to go through all the trouble of washing it.”
“It wasn’t any trouble.” She slowly slid one ankle up and down the back of her calf. “You should grab a donut while their still fresh.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” He paused. Feeling his body harden more as she stroked the side of her neck with her fingertips and imagined them stroking him. “Not for donuts, anyway.”
“What are you hungry for?”
“You,” he said.
She tilted her head. Considering, he thought, and then without even so much as a bat of an eyelash she said in a seductive voice, “I’m not on the menu.”
“Dressed the way you are, sitting on my sofa the way you are…” He scrubbed his palm down the back of his head, exasperated. “You are pure temptation. But then again, I’m sure you already know that.”
She lifted her chin. Defiantly. “I don’t know anything of the sort.”
She started to get up. “Perhaps I should go.”
He intended to call her bluff. What’s more, he was the better poker player in this game they had going on.
He went to the door, put his hand on the knob, and scowled back at her. “Perhaps you should.”
She rose gracefully from where she was seated, and crossed the not so large area that separated them.
She put her hand on top of his. “Move, so I can turn the doorknob.”
He removed his much larger hand from beneath her warm palm. She stood there. A hesitation. He bent down and lightly skimmed his nose up the cord of her exposed neck, taking in her delicious scent of soap and something sweetly floral, pausing when he came to her ear.
“Go, then. No one is stopping you,” he whispered.
Her slight tremble called to him on a primal level that ratcheted up his need to possess her. To feel her body against his. To kiss those full rosy-pink lips. She was going to burn him alive when he finally tasted them.
Control. He needed to gain control, not go at her like some sort of an animal, but Ms. Brooks tested him. Ignoring the big red stop sign flashing inside his head, he went for her shoulders, spun her around to face him, and took her lips, because that’s what it was—a taking.
She melted against him, opened her mouth, and jostled her tongue with his. Her surrender was what he’d been looking for. What he needed. His knee went between her legs and pressed. When she ground herself on him, he groaned.
Declan plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth, and she took him, giving just as good as she got. The taste of her was an explosion of cinnamon and feminine lust. He slid his hands down her bare arms, wrapped his long fingers around her wrists, manacling them.
She tore her mouth from his, turning her head to the side.
“Let me go,” she said.
“Is that what you really want, Tiffany?”
“Or maybe what you want me to do is take you back to that couch.” Her gaze shot to the black leather sofa she’d been seated on. The pulse in her wrist thumped wildly against his thumb. “Yeah,” he said. “You’d like that.” She slowly shook her head, and slipped her lip between her teeth. “You want me to hike up your skirt, pull down your panties, and make you ride my hard cock, all sweet like.”
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