...I could smell him on the jacket. His scent overrode that of the foreignness of the expensive material. I felt its rough texture against my skin. Black cashmere. It reminded me of him. Of the closed, enigmatic nature. I wondered if I now carried his scent like the jacket did? Did I wear it well?

He reached around me and withdrew the jacket from my hands. I turned to look up at him. I liked looking at him. I loved his scent. So male. Clean and yet earthy.

Months of negotiation and yet today marked our first sexual encounter. I expect it to be our only one. That’s the way it usually went.

His blue eyes questioned me, his head tilted, a gleaming damp blue-black wave unfurled from the fold of rich locks. I reached up to brush it back, my fingers lingering to fondle the rogue silky strands. His warm hand wrapped around my fingers, drawing my hand down, placing my palm over his beating heart.

How long had we been here? I couldn’t recall. What I did remember was watching him across the conference room table. Of admiring his sharp mind, of the wolf-wary look on his face. The way he held his body. Of wanting to stroke the black silk shirt beneath the cashmere jacket.

I remember at one point reaching across the table to pour a glass of water. Of his larger, tanned left hand covering mine. I remember the sleeve of his jacket exposing a length of thick wrist decorated with a heavy gold chain.

I remember there was no ring. No tan line. No wife.

I couldn’t wait for the meeting to end.

I now knew for a fact what I had only surmised in the boardroom about what his body looked like beneath the suit. I was now intimately acquainted with his bare flesh. I was not disappointed. Dark hairs decorated his arms, his legs, and the thick black pelt from chest to groin. I felt his heat rush to enfold me. I drew my hand down across the forested landscape of hard muscle. Across beautifully defined biceps. I danced over a peaked nipple with my fingertips. My attention was now focused completely upon my exploration of his body. I wish there was more time. But I had a plane to catch.

I combed through the swath of dark silky hair, following the path downward, across taut abdomen, stretched tight and lean. Bending forward, I traced the nipple with my tongue, savoring the texture and warmth of his flesh. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath my palm, my hand still fastened to his chest. I sucked the nipple in, and felt the rumbling growl of his pleasure. I sucked and sucked and sucked as though I could swallow him whole and keep this moment with me forever.

He pulled away. Harsh breaths rent the air. His breaths. I heard the air-conditioning click on. Felt the whoosh of cool air wash over my body. He leaned down and spread the jacket open on the floor, dove gray silk lining exposed and waiting. I dropped to my knees sensing what he wanted. His hands fastened onto my shoulders, fingers biting into my skin. He pushed me backward until my bare spine was married to the silk.

He raised one of my arms and slid the oversized sleeve onto it, and then he did the same with the other. I was engulfed by him. His hands curled into the lapels and he lifted me to a sitting position. Then he pulled me to my knees. Wouldn’t Daddy be proud—I was finally on my knees. Thoughts of my father flittered away as I looked up at Miles. Submissive maybe, but never meek. The two men could not be more different. “It looks good on you,” he murmured as he leaned forward. He swept my blonde hair from beneath the nape. His hand wound into the locks and his grip tightened, forcing my head back.

I felt the jacket against my bare skin, wrap around me, sliding against my flesh. Strokes of silk that enflamed my desire. It seemed he surrounded me. His power, his possession, the fabric of his life.