Free Penthouse Prince by Virginia Nelson

hammered at a ball and carrying her off to a limo to try to make out. Even knowing that, she couldn’t quite push him away. He asked her to pretend, but she didn’t have to. He’d been seducing her since he swept her into a kiss in his office, constantly in her space, smelling like sin and tasting like—
    Whiskey. He tasted like whiskey, and his brain probably fermented in the stuff. She couldn’t take advantage of the fact the man had gotten sloshed, seen his ex…
    “Wait.”
    He stopped, the pressure of her hand touching his chest enough to end the kiss. “You suck at pretend. I thought all kids learned this game?”
    Choking out a laugh, she straightened his jacket, allowing herself a bit more leash than normal since he was blitzed and likely wouldn’t remember. “I know seeing Tasha probably—”
    “Tasha?” He looked genuinely confused, all tired man with tender eyes and no mogul Camden in his expression. “What does Tasha have to do with this?”
    She rolled her eyes. The woman was stunning. Big boobs, tiny waist…if Barbie had a skinny Italian twin, Tasha would be that plastic figure. “Look, let’s not lie about this. I’m not blind. She’s beautiful. I’m—”
    Normal. Not part of your world. From the call center.
    Any number of answers died while he continued to give her his full azure regard.
    “Not Tasha,” she finished, realizing how lame the comparison was.
    “I hadn’t noticed.”
    She smacked him, which earned his lightning fast grin. “I think we both know what I meant.”
    “Look.” He punctuated the word with a single kiss to the inside of her wrist. She tried, and failed, not to react. His seduction skills far outclassed her resistance ones, so the best she could do was to keep still. “I carried you out.”
    “Yes, well, although I appreciate your drunken caveman—”
    “Stop talking.” He licked slowly up her arm, then stopped at her elbow. “I’m telling you something important.” He provided a slow lingering kiss at the bend of her arm, and she shuddered out a breath.
    Keep still. Don’t move.
    “Okay.” Her voice came out breathy, or maybe her heart beat so hard she couldn’t hear right. Whichever.
    “I know who you are, Jeanie.” His nibbling mouth made it to her shoulder and she shivered.
    Still mostly not moving.
    His breath tickled her ear and her eyes slid closed. The scent of him, all raw man and wealth, went to her head, and she wondered, for a moment, if one could get contact-drunk.
    “So will you please just relax for a single damned minute so I can figure something out?” She jerked away from him and saw his smile right before he unleashed a full tempest of need by taking her mouth in a way that didn’t ask for permission.
    He claimed her lips. Claimed.
    Aw, the hell with it. I’m curious. What harm can a minute or two in his arms do?
    The wet heat of his mouth demanded she answer his hunger, and she didn’t have a problem coming up with a response. Somehow, her hand got lost in his hair, and then his fingers…
    “Been wanting to do this.” His whisper warned her before he slipped her breast free of the top of the gown and tweaked her nipple between his fingertips. The man had clever fingers, she realized, and then his mouth joined in his exploration.
    She arched into the heat of his lips, and the dim light of the limo illuminated the sight of his head bowed to her breasts, those intense eyes closed as he sucked and she shuddered, a fist of desire slamming into her with the force of a Mack truck.
    “Are we still pretending?” she managed.
    “Yes, but I’m going to need you over here.”
    With that, he tugged her astride his lap, and her legs straddled his lean hips encased in dress slacks. “This might be going too far.” But the sight of her skirt hiked up and his shirt rumpled where she’d tugged at it stole her voice.
    His eyes, normally tired or inscrutable, no longer looked even slightly sleepy, even though he gazed at her from