Purr Scent I: The Meeting (Purr Billionaire BDSM Trio, #1)
Chapter One
    S itting across the boardroom in utter perfection was Dream God. No other word sufficed to describe that delectable man. Even sitting at such a distance with their executive teams flanked on both sides of the table, the man exuded ruthless sex and raw power that sent a chill down her spine.
    The highlight of that morning, of the day, the whole quarter, was that she would see him again. Like clock work, their companies met four times a year to discuss business. After their first contract, she had looked forward to the next and the next and the next...
    God, what would it be like to be beneath him? She'd never find out, because she just wasn't that kind of girl. Business was business. Personal was personal. While she liked fucking, she didn't like getting fucked. Mixing the two—business and personal—was a plain invitation to getting fucked. No, thank you. She'd rather just date her vibrator. She'd have a good fucking and no mess—just her mess—to clean up afterward.
    Yes, she and her vibrator would have a nice long date tonight. She shifted in her seat.
    “What do you think, Ms. Olsen?” The deep baritone voice of Dream God cut into her reverie.
    No, not Dream God! Clark...Clark Mannings. Business only.
    Caught daydreaming across the boardroom, Mariah blinked at the object of her reverie and saw the broad shoulders of the red-hot sexy self-made man in a navy tailored three-piece suit. With black hair long enough to frame him as a pirate or a rogue in another time and place, Mariah shuddered at the thought of being this man's enemy . . . or captive . She fought a blush from creeping across her face.
    Right now, even sitting at the head of the table across from him, she didn't feel any more safe—or any less wet—than she would have felt sitting next to him. Didn't even matter that their executive teams were in the same room. As potentially partnering CEOs again, the command he held, the presence he had, the air he snuffed out of the room just by breathing and being—all of that and more said a lot. A lot of what she did not need right now at the moment.
    His penetrating gaze almost unmanned her. Or unwomanned her. Or whatever.
    Mariah's fleeting glance at the magnificent view of the Seattle skyline steeled her courage and she sat as erect as the Space Needle. No way would she ask the man to repeat the question. Nor would she back down. She braved a schooled smile and spoke in what she hoped was a crisp and calm manner. “That shall be all for today, Mr. Mannings. My team will review these details and get back to you about the proposition.”
    At the dismissal, their executive teams exited.
    She'd never sent him away empty-handed, without verbal agreement or a signed contract. She'd probably have to pay for this later, but she'd rather keep her hand. She needed both of her hands for her hot date tonight.
    How did the air get even stuffier with less people? Perhaps because there was only one occupant left besides her, the occupant that mattered.
    Mariah didn't need to look up to know that Clark was still in the room. She adjusted her taupe pencil skirt as she stood up and slowly collected her things to retreat to her office. As if even his presence wasn't enough, he guarded the exit like a bulldog ready to tear anyone apart who dared pass.
    “What game are you playing, Ms. Olsen?” he hissed at her ear. His warm breath sent a tingle down her spine and her senses went on full alert. So what if the man was edible?
    Survival instinct took over. Show no weakness.
    “Mr. Mannings, I believe you have overstayed your welcome.” She shot him a prim smile and proceeded to pass him.
    He grabbed her arm, stilling her resolve to leave him behind. “I've watched you negotiate for two years now. Where. Did. You. Go?”
    Taken aback by his admission and the succeeding demand, Mariah pulled in a sharp intake of air. “Mr. Mannings, you must let go before I call security.” She glared at him and directed her gaze to

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