Free Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) by Ella Dominguez Page B

before her. Keeping her eyes steadily focused on him, she pressed her thighs together tightly to satiate the rapidly growing ache pulsating between her legs, while screaming at herself in silence to pull it together.
    With the last sheet of paper gathered in his hands, he looked up at her and slowly stood, the length of his body climbing hers. A mere few inches away, he leaned into her, his nose ghosting the hair that hung around her shoulders. His deeply inhaled breath sent shivers across her torso and hardened her nipples. She edged back farther only to realize she was flush against the balustrade and there was nowhere for her to go.
    “If you want our association to remain strictly professional, I forbid you to wear this fragrance ever again , ” he growled softly.
    She stood stock-still like a gazelle caught in the snare of a hungry lion. What Logan was asking of her was an impossible task. In her haste to get to the ferry on time, she had forgotten to put any perfume on.
    “That might be a problem,” her voice trailed off when she saw the dominance flicker in the depths of his blue eyes. When he crept closer to her, she quickly continued with her explanation. “I’m not wearing any perfume,” she murmured.
    Logan’s eyes brightened and an ironic smirk flitted across his lips. “No shit?”
    “No shit whatsoever.”
    “Well, that is going to be a problem,” he sighed, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
    She was standing in the presence of a man unlike one she had ever encountered. As he stared down at her, she realized that she would probably get only one chance to prove her worth to him—professionally or otherwise. She could only hope that he was still interested in getting acquainted with her.
    Swallowing the lump of uncertainty lodged in her throat, she threw down the gauntlet. “Or not, depending on how you look at it.”
    His eyebrows rose in surprise, and the crooked smile that she adored returned to his face, with his dimples beckoning her.
    “I think you’re forgetting yourself, Ms. Stephens. You’re here to do a job. Let’s concentrate on that first, shall we?” Bowing slightly, he gestured toward the stairs with an outstretched arm.
    Indeed, she was forgetting herself. Frustrated, her mouth suddenly became dry as a bone. Closing her eyes for a split second, she did her best to pull herself together and rein in her raging hormones. She took in a deep, cleansing breath and climbed the stairs.
    Once again in the barren room, her imagination came to life. She was actually going to design a sexual torture chamber. She couldn’t believe her luck. All of her erotic romance novels didn’t compare to the reality she was facing.
    Logan handed the stack of papers back to her. With newfound concentration, she sifted through them looking over all of the tantalizing images of the furniture and equipment with which he wanted to fill the house. Next, she took into consideration what he had suggested in the paperwork. She moved around the room bit by bit, focusing only on her job.
    “What are you thinking for the color?” he interrupted her thoughts.
    “Deep-red, perhaps?”
    “No, I want the room to be inviting and soothing, not frightening.”
    She never thought of a torture chamber as being soothing or inviting , and found his answer strange. When she turned to face him, he seemed to be watching her with great interest.
    “Tell me what else you’re thinking,” he prodded.
    She hesitated, but his intense gaze demanded otherwise. It wasn’t so much the look in his eyes that astounded her, but the sheer authority he exuded. Standing gape-jawed while staring at him like some kind of mute moron, she wondered if he had any idea just how sexy he was.
    “Do you plan on answering me anytime today, Ms. Stephens?”
    A playful, infinitesimal lift of Logan’s left eyebrow left Chloe searching for words. Her response, or lack thereof, couldn’t be helped when the sinful vision of him working his magic on her