Free Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 by Orla Bailey Page B

learnt my lesson the hard way. I can hide my true feelings with the best of them.
    I shrug. “It’s your party, Jack.” Let him think I’m unaffected by his provocative behaviour, by his mouth on my skin. “I don’t suppose I need tell you my size either.” I turn and stare at him directly. His hot looks almost send me up in flames.
    I can tell he’s working hard not to laugh. “I have an extremely good eye for women’s figures.”
    “I’ll bet you have. And for reading labels when you examine the contents of their wardrobes.” I hear the quiet laughter as I turn the key and slip through the door.
    Never mind the pretence. I’m angry. Affected. I contemplate slamming his stupid door behind me but squash the desire. It’s a poor triumph but a dignified exit, in total contrast to my entrance. What the hell just happened in there? I went to kick his butt and ended up agreeing to spend the night with him.
    I stomp past a not-so-stunned PA mumbling words of apology. I hope the woman won’t get into trouble for letting me through. She doesn’t appear to be that bothered by all the drama but then again, perhaps she’s accustomed to irate women barging past on their way to Jack Keogh. Frankly it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a whole pack of them lining up to get at him.
    He’s that maddening. And irritating. And gorgeous. Arrgh.
    I’m annoyed at myself for overreacting. If anyone would know to think first, act later, around that man, it should be me.
    Out in the parking lot, I sit in my car but can’t stop trembling. Part of it is pure rage at the crazy situation I’ve got myself into. But I’m well aware of other feelings churning round inside me. They’re the ones I most despise myself for.
    After all this time, I can’t help responding to him. The twist of tension in my nerves; the quick blood coursing through my veins making my fingertips itch to fondle and touch; my swollen breasts with their taut nipples chafing against my damp blouse. God, did he notice that before I left?
    I observe my face in the rear view mirror. Flushed, of course. Pupils dilated. Dark. I couldn’t be more obviously gagging for it if I tried. No wonder he was so amused.
    My brain wants me to disappear in a wisp of smoke but my body wants to run back in, shove his PA aside, lock the pair of us up with that little tease of a brass key and rip his expensive clothes off, push him down on top of his huge boardroom table and rub myself up and down his naked flesh like I’m an unfed cat and he’s the guy with a hot chicken.
    I groan in self-loathing.
    I’m no nymphomaniac but if half an hour alone in an office with Jack can reduce me to that, how the hell am I going to manage a whole night without humiliating myself badly? I’m convinced he knows it. Every look, every smile says he’s reading my body language like a Kama Sutra first edition.
    I try a series of cleansing breaths to empty my mind of thought like I learnt in yoga class but give up when it tumbles with thoughts of tantric sex with Jack instead. I think about dinner. And breakfast. And everything that could possibly happen in between. With no way of masking my own throbbing engine, I start the car and head back to my office. I feel ashamed now I tried to skip off home early.
    When I arrive I find the parking space assigned for the CEO’s exclusive use, occupied. The dark grey Range Rover is only too familiar. It casts its gas-guzzling shadow over my little eco-car like its owner, Brent Tapper, does over my non-starting career as head of CaidCo. My heart sinks.
    I pull into visitor parking. I have enough to worry about retaining this contract with Zee-Com and with what I’m being asked to do to keep it. My encounter with Jack has me shaken. The last thing I need is a pissing contest with my senior manager. And, as Brent would no doubt delight in pointing out to anyone who cares to listen, I don’t have the equipment for it.
    My friendly email reminding Brent it used