Roseanne
I LOVED NEW York with the kind of mad passion I reserved for only one other thing in my life. The city was a microcosm of new world opportunities and old-world traditions. Conservatives rubbed shoulders with bohemians. Oddities coexisted with priceless rarities. The pulsing energy of the city fueled international business bloodlines and drew people from all over the world.
And the embodiment of all that vibrancy, driving ambition, and world-renowned power had just screwed me to two toe-curlingly awesome orgasms.
As I padded over to her massive walk-in closet, I glanced at Lisa Manoban's sex-rumpled bed and shivered with remembered pleasure. My hair was still damp from a shower, and the towel wrapped around me was my only article of clothing. I had an hour and a half before I had to be at work, which was cutting it a little too close for comfort. Obviously, I was going to have to allot time in my morning routine for sex, otherwise I'd always be scrambling. Lisa woke up ready to conquer the world, and she liked to start that domination with me.
How lucky was I?
Because it was sliding into July in New York and the temperature was heating up, I chose a slim pair of pressed natural-linen slacks and a sleeveless poplin shell in a soft gray that matched my eyes. Since I had no hairstyling talent, I pulled my long blond hair back in a simple ponytail, then made up my face. When I was presentable, I left the bedroom.
I heard Lisa's voice the moment I stepped into the hallway. A tiny shiver moved through me when I realized she was angry, her voice low and clipped. She didn't rile easily... unless she was ticked off with me. I could get her to raise her voice and curse, even shove her hands through her glorious shoulder-length inky black hair.
For the most part, though, Lisa was a testament to leashed power. There was no need for her to shout when she could get people to quake in their shoes with just a look or a tersely spoken word.
I found her in her home office. She stood with her back to the door and a Bluetooth receiver in her ear. Her arms were crossed and she was staring out the windows of her Fifth Avenue penthouse apartment, giving the impression of a very solitary woman, an individual who was separate from the world around her, yet entirely capable of ruling it.
Leaning into the doorjamb, I drank her in. I was certain my view of the skyline was more awe-inspiring than her. My vantage point included her superimposed over those towering skyscrapers, an equally powerful and impressive presence. She'd finished her shower before I managed to crawl out of bed. Her seriously addictive body was now dressed in two pieces of an expensively tailored three-piece suit—an admitted hot button of mine. The rear view of her showcased a perfect ass and a powerful back encased in a vest.
On the wall was a massive collage of photos of us as a couple and one very intimate one that she'd taken of me while I was sleeping. Most were pictures taken by the paparazzi who followed her every move. She was Lisa Manoban, of Manoban Industries, and at the ridiculous age of twenty-eight, she was one of the top twenty-five richest people in the world. I was pretty sure she owned a significant chunk of Manhattan; I was positive she was the hottest woman on the planet. And she kept photos of me everywhere she worked, as if I could possibly be as fun to look at as she was.
She turned, pivoting gracefully to catch me with her dark brown gaze. Of course she'd known I was there, watching her. There was a crackling in the air when we were near each other, a sense of anticipation like the coiled silence before the boom of thunder. She'd probably deliberately waited a beat before facing me, giving me the opportunity to check her out because she knew I loved to look at her.
Dark and Dangerous. And all mine.
God... I never got used to the impact of that face. Those sculpted cheekbones and perfectly even brows, the thickly lashed deep brown eyes, and those lips... perfectly etched to be both sensual and wicked. I loved when they smiled with sexual invitation, and I shivered when they thinned into a stern line. And when she pressed those lips to my body, I burned for her.
