Free The Sunday Arrangement by Lucy Smith Page A

subtle touch. It was
electric and magnetic, intense and irresistible. Captivating me, the slight
movement of his fingers catapulted me from that dim room in the middle of a
club to a dark room all our own. Doubt became my mind’s stranger as I toyed
with the idea of letting Pierce pierce me where I wanted it most—the very idea
that I hadn’t been able to shake since the day he and his father showed up at
Hart Corp.
    I
frowned. “What are you doing?”
    He
grinned but didn’t remove his hand.
    “We
work together, Pierce . . . we can’t . . .” I struggled to sound doubtful,
afraid even. Even I didn’t believe the pretense I forced from my lips.
    “I’ve
seen you, Lauren,” he said softly. “You’ve been staring at me the same way I’ve
been staring at you the past two days.”
    I
looked into his dark eyes. The narrator’s voice and the aquatic tanks we were
so enraptured by only moments ago were now a distant thought. It was as though
we were the only people in the room. Heat from my chest spread throughout my
body as I allowed his heavy words to truly sink in. Could this possibly be
true?
    He
licked his lips. “It’s Sunday. We have tomorrow off, remember.”
    “What
does tomorrow have to do with anything?” I pushed his hand off my leg, the very
opposite of what I wanted to do. A bolt of clarity washed over me. I forced myself
to concentrate on the many reasons I couldn’t sleep with Pierce Maverick. Not
now. Not in Vegas. Not ever. “I don’t know about your father, but mine would
kill me if this reached the press.”
    “Who
says it’s going to get leaked?” He shrugged. His nonchalant behavior made me
crazy. Was his arrogance and confidence about our potentially scandalous
behavior really turning me on? God, it must be nice not to care what the press
would do . . . what our fathers would do . . . “We’ll just have to initiate a
no-Monday’s policy. Then we’ll have an entire day to catch up,” he said. “I
promise you won’t regret being with me.”
    I
ignored his last comment and tried to return to the show, which wasn’t the best
choice; the intensity of the production had just reached an entirely new level
of eroticism. Was the merman really motor-boating the underwater Disney
princess? Her breasts bobbed in the water, and I found myself strangely aroused
by the entire scene.
    Pierce’s
soft hand touched my knee. Instinctively, I brushed it off and sent him a
half-hearted glare that he probably couldn’t even see in the dim light. My mind
waged a war with my hormones. Every fiber of my being wanted to throw myself
into Maverick’s manly arms and beg him to whisk me back to his condo. I wanted
to be like the mermaid in the tank, captivated and dominated by the sexual
merman with the really long tail. But a quiet voice in my head told me to
resist him at all costs. What will Dad think? What will the tabloids say? My hormones were winning the battle over my logical self-warnings to flee.
    While
the underwater actors shared a heated kiss, Pierce put his arm around my
shoulder. His thumb softly stroked the bare skin of my shoulder. His hand was warm
and gentle, sending sensations throughout my entire body. If this is what he
can do with just a thumb . . . I wondered what he was up to, why the sudden
urge to be with me, and even more, why I was falling for it.
    He
leaned over again and whispered closer to my ear. His hot breath traveled over
my skin, and I whimpered with desire. “It looks like that actress really wants
him, doesn’t it?” he asked teasingly. I couldn’t deny it—the Little Mermaid had
heat in her eyes for the actor in front of her that wasn’t easy to fake. It
made me want to feel the same anticipation, the same thrill of experiencing
what he would do to her. That moment, right before you feel your partner enter inside
of you—the anticipation, the build up—was always my favorite part of sex.
    His
hand returned to my thigh, and this time, I didn’t push it