She boldly threw press photos at him, one after .mother. "I can't believe I have to remind you how you really kiss your fans. How can I teach you how to I "have if you don't act like you normally do?" The corner of his mouth moved and something akin to relief ran through his eyes.

"I've always respected a woman who takes her work seriously."

"Thank you," she said and then the next moment he'd pulled her onto his lap and was stealing her breath from her lungs.

His tongue invaded her mouth and taught hers how to dance again while his big, strong hands cupped her bottom.

"Is that better?" he murmured as he dragged his mouth down to the ultra-sensitive spot at the base of her ear.

She couldn't answer; he was setting her entire body on fire. Thankfully, his hands were just as naughty as his mouth. She felt the heat of his palm through her tailored shirt a millisecond before his thumb brushed across her nipple.

Her body sprang to desperate attention beneath his skilled touch. She reached for him, cupped his heart-stoppingly beautiful face in her hands, and kissed him. All the while that he was fondling her and stroking her and sliding down zippers and undoing buttons, she was losing herself in his kiss. She couldn't think clearly when he was kissing her, when he was replacing her removed shirt with his mouth, kissing her collarbone, heading for the spot between her br**sts as he unhooked her bra. Finally—oh God, it couldn't be soon enough—he was cupping her br**sts in both hands, squeezing them together, laving her ni**les with his tongue, with the rough bristles of his jaw, his cheeks. Funny little gasps were coming from her throat, but she couldn't stop them, any more than she could stop herself from growing wet and heavy between her legs. She was this close to begging him to slip one hand beneath her skirt, her panties. One touch and she'd explode. That was all she wanted. Ty was all she wanted.

His voice drifted up from between her br**sts, low and ragged. "You have the most beautiful body I've ever seen."

Julie arched her br**sts against him, shifted so that her skirt bunched up at her waist, and straddled him.

She settled down onto his heavy, jean-clad erection with a moan of satisfaction. All she wanted to do was press herself into him like this while he sucked at her br**sts. With a groan, he pulled her even closer against him. Julie loved everything: the way he was whispering her name again and again as he licked and nipped the sensitive skin on her br**sts; the way his jeans felt rough against the mostly exposed skin beneath her fishnet stockings; the way she'd never felt so wet, so aroused, so full of need that she was almost bursting from it. She was close, so close to the satisfaction she'd been missing all these years. She could see the peak, was climbing straight toward it, when Ty said, "Oh no, you don't," and flipped her onto her back on the couch.

She blinked up at him, disoriented and bewildered. Hadn't she just been about to come, with Ty beneath her? Quickly, he answered her silent question.

"My jeans are not getting the pleasure that I want for myself," he said as he stripped her skirt off. Her shoes were already gone and slowly, with a patience she wished he didn't have, he slid her stockings over her hips, past her aching clit, down her incredibly sensitive thighs, and finally over her knees and calves and the soles of her feet.

A part of her wanted to yell, "Hurry," but before she could give in to the urge, Ty said, "I like your panties."

Lingerie was her biggest splurge. Silk from France, lace from Italy. She hadn't bought it to turn on the men she slept with; she simply liked the feel of luxurious, sensual fabrics against her skin. It was her way of acknowledging the sexy woman within her.

"I like you better naked, though," he said as he slid her panties off and dropped them onto the plush rug.

All she wanted was for him to slip his finger inside her—that's all it would take. But he'd never followed the rules. Not in school, not on the field, and not now.

His mouth came down hot and heavy on her pu**y lips and her hips bucked up to meet him. Strong, calloused hands cupped her ass, pulled her closer. Julie's body instantly obeyed his command, and she pushed into his teeth, his tongue.

And then his fingers found her, slipped and slid against her clit, against her engorged lips, and then finally, deep within.

"Ty," she moaned, his name a prayer of wonder as the first waves knocked her down. No orgasm had ever been this intense, not even back in high school on the yacht. She tried to prepare herself for the next hit of pleasure, but she couldn't, she didn't have the resources against the constant onslaught of Ty's tongue, fingers, the way he pushed into her clit, then backed away, only to give her more and send her higher.

Her brain ceased to function as he rode her harder and harder with his hands, higher and higher with his mouth.

Then, miraculously, her brain pushed through the fog of sensation. Where had this girl come from, the one who would do anything for that orgasm? All these years, she'd been in hiding. Ever since the night when this bad boy broke her heart.

In an instant, the spell of lust collapsed.

With superhuman strength, she pushed him onto the far end of the couch. As she scrambled into her clothes—even though she knew his eyes never left her face, not for one second, even though she knew how hard he was behind the zipper of his jeans, even though they were both panting from what had just happened—she wouldn't let herself look at his face. Into his eyes. If she so much as glanced up into his beautiful eyes and all the desire in them, she'd leap onto his lap and ride him like she was going for a gold medal.

"I can't do this anymore." She ran up the stairs, her shoes and briefcase in her hands. "You'll have to work with Amy. She'll call you with the new plan."

She tried to turn the knob to get the hell away from him, but it was locked. With wild determination, she pounded at the keypad with her fists.

"Open, goddamnit!" she yelled.

Ty moved behind her to punch in the code, and when the door beeped open, she leaped through it and out to her car with a speed she hadn't known she possessed.

She could never, ever see Ty again.

Never.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ty was painfully hard. He wasn't surprised that Julie had fled before they could finish the deed. And really, he decided as he turned the shower on cold, he'd thoroughly enjoyed himself anyway. Because even though he hadn't had the pleasure of sliding into her hot, slick pu**y, he'd gotten his rocks off in other ways.

Just kissing her was lethal.

And those br**sts. A guy could lose himself in how soft her skin was, in the way her ni**les tasted. And then there was the fact that she had the most beautiful pu**y in all creation. The icy water temporarily worked its magic on his libido, so he wrapped a towel around his waist and thought about his next move.