Free Her Alpha Saviors [The Hot Millionaires #2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Zara Chase

sentiment in business, Skye. You need to remember that.”
    Her head shot up. “What do you mean?”
    “Precisely what I say. A decent businessman doesn’t ever let his head rule his heart.”
    “I see.”
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “Nope.” She said the one word emphatically, convinced now that there was only one thing she wanted to do, and it sure as hell didn’t involve talking. She’d tried being a grown-up, sensible business woman and had achieved precisely nothing. He’d as good as told her that by revealing her weak underbelly she’d blown her chances of getting fiscal help from Jay, so she might as well have some fun with him instead. Fun had been in short supply in her life for many years and it was time to make up for lost time.
    “Then what do you want to do?” His large hands stroked the back of her head.
    “Kiss me, Jay. No strings. I won’t expect you to cut me any slack with the business. Hell, I know you’re not interested in investing. You’d be mad if you did. I just need to feel cherished right now.”
    “Cherishing,” he said with a wolfish grin, “just happens to be my specialty.”
    She just bet it was! For the first time since forever her draughty loft felt too warm, and she was tempted to shed her ratty robe. She resisted as Jay’s arms encompassed her body and drew her into a heart-stopping kiss. She responded dreamily, enjoying the feel of his tongue ravishing her mouth, impatient for other parts of his anatomy to ravish her in very different ways. When had she turned into such a slut? She neither knew nor cared as her body reacted with urgent need to the brutal passion beneath his kiss.
    “You’re too rigid,” he said softly when he broke the kiss. “What you need is a massage. Not administered by the obliging Sandy, but by yours truly.”
    “You know how to massage, as well as everything else.” She tilted her head and shot him a challenging look from beneath lowered lashes. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
    His chuckle was decidedly wicked, full of masculine self-confidence that fell short of arrogance by the merest whisker. “You’d better hope not, baby.”
    He carried her to the large bed on the far side of the loft and deposited her on it. Before she could move, he unfastened the robe and pushed it off her shoulders. She wore a tank top and boxers beneath it, which appeared to meet with his approval.
    “Much better,” he said, his eyes roving over her body and lingering on her nipples, rock hard and pushing against the thin fabric of the tank top. “Now, lay on your front before I forget what I’m supposed to be doing here.”
    Skye did as he asked, closing her eyes and groaning with pleasure when his large hands worked on the knots in her shoulder blades.
    “We ought to use massage oil. I don’t suppose you have any?”
    “Afraid not.”
    “Never mind, we’ll have to improvise. How does that feel?”
    “Hmm, wonderful.”
    His hands circled her aching muscles, digging deep and gradually easing the tangles out of them.
    “Where did you learn to do this?”
    “I once dated a masseuse.”
    Skye nodded. “Figures.”
    “I wish you could see yourself,” he said softly, pushing the thin straps from her shoulders and working his way lower. “You look so erotic laying there in your prim shorts and silly top. Your hair’s cascading all over the pillow. Did I tell you that I love your hair, by the way?”
    “You must have forgotten to mention it.”
    “Looking at you gives me a real hard-on.”
    Her laughter was muffled by the bedclothes, so hopefully he didn’t hear the note of triumph in it. His inflated ego didn’t need any help from her. “What doesn’t?”
    A piquant thrill passed through her simply because she was able to attract him. She knew that they’d finish up having sex—she who’d never had casual sex in her life before. He could have simply taken another room key but used the excuse of the brick to come here. Ever