Free Talking Dirty with the CEO by Jackie Ashenden

dropping down to her legs, then farther down to…velvet Docs?
    The launch had been a high-class affair. Black tie all the way.
    But not, apparently, for Christie St. John.
    Unexpected. Unusual. Fascinating.
    Liz left the room while Christie gave him a curiously defiant look. “Hello, Mr. Ashton. I’m Christie—”
    “I know who you are.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “You do?”
    Right. So she was going to pretend nothing had happened between them? Annoyance cut through his fascination. Why the hell would she do that? Had she not enjoyed what they’d done together?
    “What? You mean apart from the fact that Liz just introduced you?” Joseph folded his arms. “Well, here’s a reminder. You on the bathroom vanity. Me inside you while you screamed in my ear.”
    Her face went beet red. “I-I-I— “
    “So it does ring a few bells?”
    “I didn’t scream.”
    “Sure you did, honey. I was there, remember? But five seconds later you weren’t.”
    Her mouth closed with a snap. Christie’s gaze slid away, her hands clutching the straps of the scruffy leather bag she had slung over her narrow shoulder.
    His annoyance began to escalate. She couldn’t even look him in the eye? “Don’t tell me,” he said, unable to help himself. “Women’s problems again?”
    She became even redder, if that was possible. Small white teeth nibbled on her lower lip and he tried to ignore the stab of lust that speared through him.
    God, he remembered that mouth. Remembered the taste of her…
    “I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” she said at last.
    “Why wouldn’t I? I don’t make a habit of forgetting women I have wild bathroom sex with.”
    “Oh.” She still didn’t look at him.
    An awkward silence fell.
    Was she shy? Embarrassed? What?
    “Any time you’re ready,” he prompted.
    Christie let out an audible breath, then suddenly she was all business, checking her watch and looking impatient. “We can discuss that later, can’t we? I have to do this interview and you’ve only allotted me ten minutes.”
    Oh, dammit, the bloody interview. He’d forgotten. He cursed. “Fine. Interview first.”
    He strode to the couch, flung himself down on it, and watched her sit on one of the armchairs opposite him, pulling a digital voice recorder and her phone out of her bag as she sat down. She fussed around with the recorder, then sat back, fingers working the screen of her phone with great intention.
    Joseph gritted his teeth, trying to figure out why he was so annoyed with her. So she’d run out. Did he really care that much?
    Yeah, he decided, actually he did. She’d pushed him away hard. As though he’d hurt her or something, and he hated the thought of that. He had his faults, but hurting women wasn’t one of them.
    Christie made a humming noise and his thoughts veered away from his anger, distracted by the sound. She had a fierce look on her face, a crease between her brows. He couldn’t stop looking at the shape of her mouth. The soft curve of her throat.
    Impatience bit deep and along with it, desire.
    Was ten minutes going to be enough for the interview, and for him to get the answers he wanted from her? It wouldn’t if she didn’t hurry the hell up.
    “Ten minutes,” he reminded her, drumming his fingers on his knee.
    Christie flashed him an annoyed glance. “I know.”
    “Though it’s nine minutes now.”
    “Give me a moment to get my questions, okay?” The crease between her brows had deepened. She cursed and muttered something about “stupid reception.”
    “Can’t find them?”
    “Don’t rush me.”
    Beneath his impatience, a small kernel of unwilling amusement glowed. “Giving me orders, Naughtygirl? I like it. And that’s eight minutes, by the way.”
    She glared at him. “Do you mind? Important journalist stuff going on here and counting down is not helping.”
    Losing what remained of his minuscule store of patience, Joseph leaned forward and plucked the phone out of her grasp.
    “Hey!”