Free The Secretary's Scandalous Secret by Cathy Williams

her a quizzical look from under his lashes then he gave her a devastating smile and positioned himself squarely between her legs.
    Still looking at her, imagining the rosy blush invading her cheeks—because it was dark enough in the room to hide all but her most obvious reactions—he brought his mouth down to nuzzle against her damp mound.
    Her instinct was to buck against him but he held her down and, lord, that questing mouth, exploring her most intimate place, sent her spiralling into a vortex of unspeakable excitement and red-hot, searing pleasure.
    She had never been touched like this in her life before andnothing could have prepared her for the primitive, surging power of her response. When she thought that it was
Luc’s
mouth there, caressing her, she wanted to faint.
    ‘I can’t wait any longer,’ Luc groaned. He entered her, pausing as she automatically flinched. ‘You’re very tense,’ he murmured, looking down at her with a slight frown.
    ‘Please don’t stop.’ When she opened her eyes and looked at him, she could see the naked hunger as he began to move gently and rhythmically into her.
    She shifted under him and with a stifled groan Luc thrust deeper into her, no more able to keep his need for gratification under control than she was.
    Having him spill into her, as she peaked with a shuddering orgasm that came in wave upon wave until it finally crested, leaving her limp, gave her the most liberating feeling she had ever experienced.
    And afterwards she felt incredibly tired and incredibly peaceful. Luc had rolled onto his back and she could sense him staring up at the ceiling.
    Whilst Agatha wanted to curve her body against his and rest her head on his chest so that she could feel the steady beating of his heart, his silence was sending little shards of unease through her.
    She thought that this was the definition of reality, this steady drip of icy cold after the hot, euphoric rush.
    ‘That was a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’ Better to strike first. She forced herself to laugh even though the tingle of awareness that raced through her as he turned to lie on his side, looking at her, gave the lie to any chance of her feeling cool, calm and collected. In fact, now that the memory of what had taken place had its opportunity to cruelly replay itself in her head, she was dimly beginning to recall a certain reluctance on his part to make love to her. Had she thrown herself at him? Had she? Shehad been feeling miserable and humiliated after the fiasco with Stewart, and there Luc had been, her seemingly never-ending dream-guy, lending her a shoulder to cry on.
    Maybe she had even begun to see him as more than just a fantasy when she had started working for him. True, she wasn’t on his floor, and most of the time not even within his range of vision, but those snatched occasions when he called her to his office had all done their damage by feeding into her feelings for him. She had interacted with him on a level she had never dreamed possible but, instead of that interaction putting everything into perspective, it had dragged her deeper into her silly infatuation.
    And now…
    Agatha couldn’t bring herself to actually look at him, which was ridiculous, considering her state of complete undress under the duvet.
    What must he be thinking? He had been there to comfort her and she had flung herself at him with reckless abandon: what red-blooded male would resist? She could hardly blame him for responding to the invitation. No, she just had to accept that all the blame was squarely on her shoulders.
    It seemed very important to salvage some of her pride, at least from the situation.
    She clutched the duvet to her chest, suddenly acutely conscious of the body that had thrilled to his touch only moments previously.
    ‘You should go,’ she said feverishly.
    ‘We need to talk about what just happened.’
    ‘No, we don’t. We really, really don’t.’ She reluctantly turned to