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the desk, widening her stance.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and reveled in her soft cry, the way she threaded a hand through his hair, then clenched her fingers, holding him against her. She chanted his name, “Ford, Ford.”

He licked harder, faster. Her legs trembled. Then he took her with two fingers. Her sweet cream flooded his tongue. He didn’t let up when her pussy clenched around his fingers, riding out the orgasm, taking her higher, feeling every bump and grind, loving even the way her fingers yanked on his hair.

When the quakes thinned out to aftershocks, then even those faded, he opened his eyes to look at her. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly. Lipstick stained her parted lips. Her eyes appeared dazed.

Ford gently patted her thong back in place, straightened the garter belt, her stockings, smoothed her skirt to her knees.

Then he rose. “I’m not letting you end this or keep it a secret. I’m not hiding in corners with you and copping a feel when no one’s looking. I want dinner with you, the theater, the symphony, parties, events, and quiet nights watching action movies on the big screen.”

“I hate action movies,” Sophia whispered, her heart thudding in her ears, her legs wobbly.

“We’ll compromise. A chick flick, then an action movie.”

“Isn’t this against company policy?”

“There is no policy regarding movies.”

She sighed. “You know what I mean.”

He bracketed her throat with his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Screw company policy. I won’t waste a moment with you. I’m not going to hide what we have. That’s another fucking waste. Haven’t you learned anything?”

She closed her eyes. She’d looked her mortality in the face. She’d dreamed her own death. And she’d wanted to create a memory. Well, she had. She would forever

remember all those glorious moments with Ford, even with Simon. She would never

regret a thing they’d done. But they were back to reality now.

“Take a chance, Sophia.”

He took her mouth, tasting of her, reminding her of all the naughty things they had yet to do.

“If we cause a scandal,” he murmured against her lips, “we’ll weather it together.” He rubbed his nose against her cheek as if he were marking her. “If we get fired”—he threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape—“we’ll find other jobs.” Finally he pulled back, pinning her down with his gaze. “Tell me you’re not going to let your fears stop you.”

Her fears. She’d lived her life by her fears. When she thought she was going to die, she thrust them aside to grab for something she wanted. Somewhere along the way, hadn’t she sworn to herself that she would live her life, whatever was left, to the fullest? But the moment she was given a reprieve, she’d reverted, letting her fears resurface to drive her underground again.

Ford was right. She could weather a scandal. She could find another job. In fact, she didn’t need one; she had sound investments despite the economy. But she needed Ford.

He was the most important thing to enter her life in twenty years.

“Fine,” she said, glee beating in her heart, “we’ll date.”

His eyes heated to that delicious amber shade as he grasped exactly what she was saying.

“Dating is good.”

“But we really shouldn’t have sex in the office.”

He grinned. “How about if it’s after hours?”

“Anywhere but at the office.”

“Anywhere?”

“I’ve always wanted to do it in a hot-air balloon.”

He hooked an arm around her back, yanking her closer. “That could be risky.”

“I think I’m going to like a little risk in my life.”

“Baby, letting me into your life is not going to be a risk at all, I promise.”

She cupped his cheek and let all the seriousness in her heart seep into her voice. “I want you in my life, Ford. For a very long time.”

She would not waste another second.

Jasmine Haynes has been penning stories for as long as she’s been able to write. With a bachelor’s degree in accounting from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, she has worked in the high-tech Silicon Valley for the last twenty years and hasn’t met a boring accountant yet!

Well, maybe a few. She and her husband live with Star, their mighty moose-hunting dog (if she weren’t afraid of her own shadow), plus numerous wild cats (who have discovered that food out of a bowl is easier than slaying gophers and birds, though it would be great if they got rid of the gophers, but no such luck). Jasmine’s pastimes, when not writing her heart out, are speedwalking through the Redwoods, hanging out with writer friends in coffee shops, and watching classic movies. Jasmine also writes as Jennifer Skully and JB

Skully. She loves to hear from readers. Please e-mail her at skully@

[http://skullybuzz.com] skullybuzz.com or visit [http://www.jasminehaynes.com]

www.jasminehaynes.com and [http://www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com]

www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com. And don’t miss her exciting new novel, Hers for the

Evening, coming in May 2010 from Berkley Heat. Turn to the back of this book for a sneak preview.

Honor Bound

JOEY W. HILL

One

“I can’t believe you broke out the 1939 Macallan.” Peter examined the bottle of whiskey.

“You must think I’m going to die this time.”

Ben slanted him a grin. “Well, it is your second tour. Two strikes.”

“Man has that much luck, it’s got to run out,” Lucas agreed. The athletic CFO dodged Peter’s affable punch, leaning back in the spacious VIP booth that allowed plenty of room for the five men, all at or above six feet tall, with shoulder spans to match.

“You guys are terrible,” their waitress decided, a dark-eyed Spanish beauty with a name tag that said Maria. With extreme pleasure, Peter noted the lushness of her breasts, presented with mouthwatering appeal over the tight hold of her velvet blue corset.

Nothing got him going like a corset, the way it held a woman’s body, the subtle

implications of restraint. The guys knew him well. There was no better place than an upscale BDSM club to bring him the week before he shipped out.

“Honey, where you going?” she asked.

“Afghanistan.”

“Iraq’s too tame for him,” Matt put in. “He’d be bored.”

“He’ll get

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