Free Emma Holly by Strange Attractions

the sound of a woman's laugh. To tell the truth, I'm usually sorry when Mr. Grantham goes back to work,
    'cause then we do what we want. I don't know about that physics stuff, but B.G. Grantham is a genius at cranking people up."
    "But you'd rather I didn't tease you now?"
    "I wouldn't stop you," Maurice admitted with a quiet laugh. "Thing is, three weeks is longer than we're used to going without. We're all a little blue-balled now."
    Charity blinked, taking this in, then turned to gaze out her side window. They were passing through one of the peninsula's picturesque Victorian towns. When she squirmed slightly in her seat, Eric suspected she couldn't have cared less about tourist charm. She was thinking about how hard-up they all must be, about how hard-up she might be herself in a little while.
    Despite the likely reason for her silence, he knew better than to assume she was giving in.

    She made up her mind before she spoke it, letting them drive deep into the mountains before the words came out.
    The trees were thick here: old-growth Douglas firs overshadowing the blacktop with long, shaggy shawls of moss. This was the Hoh Rainforest, one of the biggest and most fertile remaining in the world. Apart from the road and their car—the only one she'd seen for miles—they might have entered a primeval land.
    Charity had never been to this part of Washington, hadn't known this many shades of green existed. The sun itself seemed an alien substance when filtered through the living screen.
    "Not long now," Maurice said, his first words in a while.
    His voice held an edge of tense excitement. She looked at him, at his knuckles tight on the wheel, at the solid ridge between his thighs. His erection pounded at whatever fantasies had him in their grip. From what she'd heard of their eccentric host, it seemed unlikely he'd get the release he'd been praying for anytime soon. That being so, his anticipation at nearing Moss wood was worse than cruel.
    Speak up , she ordered herself. Tell them what you want. The worst they can do is refuse .
    "Stop the car," she said with such determination that Maurice obeyed with a screech of brakes.
    He turned to her worriedly. "What is it? What's wrong?"
    Rather than answer, she looked at Eric. He'd slid back in the seat once he'd realized she wasn't going to grope Maurice while he drove. Now, as cool as he'd been before she kissed him, he crossed his arms and curved his lips in a faint, smug smile.
    This, more than anything, set her path. She would not, under any circumstances, be treated like she was bush-league. Maybe she was compared to him, but she didn't care. She'd demand respect all the same.
    "I want this man to take me, and I'm not going any farther until he does."
    "What?" said Maurice, obviously shocked.
    "Charity…" Eric began with condescending caution.
    She raised one hand to silence his protest. "I know the rules, but before I decide to obey them, I want proof."
    "Proof." Eric's slitted eyes took on a laser gleam.
    "Proof that this will be worth it. Proof that letting your boss play games with my libido will create an out-of-the-ordinary experience. If he can't prove that"—Charity jerked her thumb toward Maurice—"I doubt anybody can."
    "Oh, boy," said Maurice, sounding torn as to what he hoped would happen. Charity didn't consider turning her head. Eric's burning gaze held all the answers she cared about.
    "You must have the power to make decisions. You're the one who chose to make your boss's staff wait

    three weeks."
    "I chose for all of us. B.G. and I have been waiting, too."
    His voice was graveled, lower than his usual tone. The sound touched her inside like a stroking hand.
    She wanted to kiss him then, wanted it with a deep and ferocious ache—to press her lips from his stern, fine mouth to the tip of his hardened cock. She knew from the flush on his face that he was as ready to rock as Maurice. With that in her consciousness, she waited for him to decide. After a minute,