A Billionaire Between the Sheets

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Authors: Katie Lane
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that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe. And now, whether he had a right or not, he wasn’t through making Olivia sweat.
    Although she didn’t appear to be sweating too much.
    “So I guess you want me to beg,” she said. When he didn’t reply, she shrugged. “Okay. You want me on my knees or will a couple of pretty please s do?”
    He stopped twirling the pen through his fingers and called her bluff. “Knees would be nice.” He expected her to tell him to go to hell. Instead she walked around the desk and, without the slightest hesitation, lifted her sexy-as-hell skirt just enough to flash him a peek of pretty pink garter belt fasteners and thigh-high stockings before kneeling in front of him.
    Her piercing green eyes pinned him as she spoke in a voice that was anything but humble. “Please, Deacon. Please sign the contract.”
    It was his fantasy all over again. Technically, the desk and office were his. And while Olivia wasn’t exactly in rags, she was on her knees. Which didn’t explain why all the fun had drained right out of the game. Probably because he knew what it felt like to be forced to beg. Knew exactly the feeling of humiliation that came with needing something someone else had.
    “Get up,” he said.
    “Why?” She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Did I do it wrong, Deacon? Sorry, but I’m not as good at begging as the Beaumonts.”
    The pen slipped from his fingers, and the leather chair creaked as he sat up, bringing his face inches from hers. “Shut up.”
    “Or what? You won’t sign the contract?” She laughed, her breath coming out in a puff of heat. “We both know that you won’t walk away from fifty million.”
    Her condescending attitude took Deacon from angry to flat-out pissed. So pissed that he couldn’t even put together a reply that would wipe the smartassed smirk off her face. That being the case, he chose a nonverbal way to do it.
    He kissed her.
    Not a soft kiss, but a hard, forceful one that ended with him sucking her plump bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a nip. When he pulled back, Olivia was staring at him with shocked eyes. He expected her anger and didn’t even tense when she lifted her hand. But instead of delivering a stinging, much-deserved slap she slid her hand over the stubble on his jaw before pulling him back for another kiss.
    She kissed much better than she begged. He actually believed that she was enjoying it. He sure as hell was. Her lips were hungry and aggressive, her mouth hot and wet, and her tongue slick and teasing.
    Deacon opened his legs, and she moved right into the space like a moored ship. Her hands curled around his neck while his curved over her ass, lifting her knees off the plush carpeting. As he squeezed the firm cheeks, his mind ran through the list of things he would need to accomplish before he could be surrounded by the heat of her body. Lift skirt. Remove panties. Unzip jeans. Pull out cock. Get condom—damn.
    He pulled away from those scorching lips. Then, just to make sure he didn’t succumb to a pair of desire-drugged eyes, he shoved the caster chair back a good three feet. But even with the added space, it took a while for him to get ahold of his raging hormones.
    Olivia didn’t take quite as long.
    After only a few blinks, she got to her feet, took two wobbly steps toward him, then hauled off and gave him the stinging slap he’d expected earlier. By the time his ears stopped ringing, she had the pen and contract in hand.
    “I did what you asked,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now you sign.”
    It was difficult to keep up the smiling-asshole part with a hard-on that could easily have been used as a battering ram, but he did his best. “I didn’t force you to beg. I merely asked. And you deserved it when you weren’t exactly honest about how many shares Uncle Michael left us.”
    “The number of shares was in the contract.”
    “True. But you didn’t explain that we owned the company.”
    “You

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