Meet Me at Midnight (Forbidden Flowers Book 2) Read online

  She swallowed thickly, unable to tear her gaze away from the man she’d never even seen in a pair of swimming trunks. Now here he was with his pants undone and his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a tan torso, hard abs, firm pecs, and an attractive layer of salt-and-pepper chest hair matching that on his head. It narrowed into a thin line that trailed down the center of his ridged stomach to the trimmed thatch at the base of his shaft.

  The tip of her tongue slowly wet the seam of her mouth. Harrison Devereaux wasn’t just sexy and handsome, he was hot!

  She should have looked away. She should have retreated quietly down the hall and hurried back to her room. Instead, she watched like a perverted Peeping Tom, unable to stop herself. Then again, what hot-blooded woman would turn away from this? He was like moving art. Exciting, erotic, breathtaking art.

  He slid his left hand up his stomach and chest, caressing himself as he laid his head back, eyes closed, increasing the tempo of his right hand as if the fantasy playing out behind his eyelids was closing in on its conclusion.

  A choked groan fell from his throat a moment later, and Corinne realized she was breathing as hard as he was, her nipples hard, her body warm and wet in all the right places.

  How had she never found Harrison attractive before? Even after she’d outgrown her fear of him, how had she never once seen him as anything more than Susanna’s father? A man who was sexually off-limits, despite his obvious good looks.

  Probably because, as Susanna’s father, Corinne had always considered him a bit of a father figure.

  Not anymore. Seeing him unbuttoned, unzipped, and with cock in hand shattered that image of him and gave her permission to see him with new eyes. He wasn’t her father. He’d never been her father. And now that she was an adult, she had every right to see him as anything but her father. And right now, he was every masturbation fantasy she’d ever had.

  Everything about this whole scene turned her on. Not only was Harrison deliriously sexy, with a body finer than she’d ever imagined, but the risk of getting caught excited her even more. All he had to do was roll his head to the side and open his eyes, and he would see her standing there, just outside the door, watching him with hungry, eager eyes.

  Talk about kinky thrills.

  Biting her lip, she checked the hallway behind her, then daringly slid her hand under the waist of her sweats and inside her panties.

  She was slick and ready and swirled her middle finger in what her body had offered before circling it over her swollen clit just as Harrison let out a higher pitched grunt, following by a muttered curse. He sounded as if he was getting close.

  His hand began pumping harder, the muscles in his arms straining. Corinne focused every ounce of her attention on the ruddy head of his cock vanishing and reappearing as his fist worked like a piston. A pearly bead of fluid leaked out before his palm swiped it away as his groans deepened, growing more turbulent.

  Her fingers frantically massaged her clit, catching her up to his hurried pace.

  What would it feel like to be on top of him right now? To straddle his hips and take him inside her? Would he grip her hips? Her thighs? Her breasts? Would he buck against her like a prized bull? Would he throw her to her back and hold her down as he stroked them both to completion?

  The moment his body tightened, glistening with lust-induced sweat, the muscles of his arms bulging as his strokes began to stutter with the contractions of his pending release, Corinne’s own orgasm welled up inside her with such force that she had to brace her hand on the wall to keep from dropping to her weakened knees.

  But she never took her eyes off his cock. Even with the full strength of her inevitable climax bearing down on her, she stared at his erection like a starving woman, rewarded a moment later as thick streams of milky fluid shot out of him, splattering his stomach. Only then did she allow herself to come, clamping her thighs around her hand and pressing her mouth closed tight as intense pleasure ripped through her.

  She could be a screamer during especially hot sex, but unless she wanted everyone in the house to know she’d just come while watching Harrison masturbate, she needed to jam a lid on her Mariah Carey impersonation. Which made her orgasm double back and hit her again even harder.

  She bit down on her bottom lip and curled her fingers painfully against the wall that was keeping her upright, watching Harrison shudder and gasp as his own release continued knocking the crap out of him.

  After several long, incredibly erotic moments, he heaved one last exhale and went slack, the rush over.

  Meanwhile, Corinne’s clit was still pulsing against her fingers, her insides contracting and releasing every few seconds. The best of her orgasm was over, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still feeling its breathtaking effects.

  For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Harrison seemed content to lie there and let whatever physical sensations he was still experiencing finish the ride, and her body was still too high in the stratosphere to have a coherent conversation with her brain about getting the hell back up to her room before someone saw her.

  Her feet were still rooted to the floor and her thighs still clamped around her hand when Harrison rolled to the side a moment later and reached for the box of tissues on the table.

  And looked right at her.

  She sucked in her breath as he froze, one hand hovering over the box of tissues and the other still wrapped loosely around his spent cock, his eyes locked to hers.

  Time stopped.

  A thousand strangled emotions passed between them in the silence that followed. Guilt, desire, shame, desperation, need, realization, excitement . . . and the awakening of something that felt like it had been smoldering between them not just for days, but years. Something that until just this moment had remained leashed and lurking undetected, but now that it had been freed would pursue its prey with relentless ferocity.

  Then Harrison’s gaze dropped to where her hand remained inside her sweats.

  Omigod!

  She hastily yanked it out, took a step back, then hesitated just long enough to see the fire light in his eyes before she spun on her heel and bolted.

  Back in her room, she shut the door and slammed her back against the heavy wood, staring up at the ceiling, breathing hard.

  She wanted to be mortified. She wanted to think that what she’d done and what she’d witnessed him doing to himself were egregiously amoral. That by allowing herself to get caught coveting the Harrison Devereaux with her hand in a compromising position, she’d jeopardized her entire career.

  Then she remembered the flash of desire she’d seen in his eyes right before she ran. He’d been just as turned on by catching her watching him as she’d been.

  The only question that remained was “Now what?”

  Chapter Three

  Susanna was waiting for Corinne at the top of the main staircase the following morning.

  “You look well rested,” she said, wrapping her arm around Corinne’s as they started down.

  “Uuh . . .” Corinne had surprised herself by falling asleep within twenty minutes of returning to her room, probably because a good orgasm can knock a person out. But she felt anything but rested this morning. Confused, unsure, full of doubt. The confidence she’d experienced last night had given way to skepticism about the look she’d seen on Harrison’s face before fleeing his office. Maybe she’d only imagined he’d been excited by her presence.

  “You’re going to be spoiled by these deluxe accommodations”—Susanna swept her arm in a dramatic arc as they continued down the stairs overlooking the grand entryway of the manor—“by the time you return to Yale in a few weeks. Your dorm room will feel woefully inadequate.” She laughed as they reached the bottom of the large, curving staircase. “But, hey, think of it this way, only five more months until graduation.”

  They were both looking forward to being free from the world of academia and were ready to put their stamp on society. Especially Susanna. She had ambitious goals to follow in her
father’s footsteps and become a senator someday, but only after she’d worked her way up to the corner office of his law firm. Worked, not had it handed to her. She wanted nothing given to her just because her dad ran the company.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the mouthwatering aroma of a hot-from-the-oven, baked blueberry something or other was enough to make Corinne’s stomach growl. She didn’t know if it was scones, muffins, pound cake, or whole-grain pancakes. All she knew was that she was going to have at least one of whatever it was.

  When she and Susanna entered the dining room, Harrison was already seated at the head of the table with the Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and Washington Post laid out in front of him.

  Two years ago, when she and Susanna had returned home on holiday break, Harrison had gone paperless and was trying to read his daily newspapers on his tablet, but he got so aggravated he gave up. “I don’t like the way the online version is laid out,” he’d said angrily, shoving his tablet aside. “I feel like I’m missing half the news.”

  He ended up reinstating all his print subscriptions later that day. So much for going green.

  Along with his newspapers, a plate of fruit, sliced tomato, and two triangular slices of avocado toast sat in front of him, as well as a gold-rimmed cup of coffee on a matching saucer. The sterling silver coffeepot rested within arm’s length, and a silver tray holding a small matching pitcher of creamer and a bowl of sugar cubes sat nearby.

  Corinne’s steps stuttered the moment his midnight-blue gaze lifted from the paper and collided with hers.

  “Good morning, Daddy.” Susanna let go of Corinne’s arm and took the seat to the left of her father, grabbing the Wall Street Journal. “Anything good in the news this morning.”

  “Just the usual,” he answered, keeping his unreadable gaze on Corinne’s as she slowly lowered herself into the chair next to Susanna’s.

  Susanna released a brittle laugh as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “That bad, huh?” She started flipping through the pages, the feminine spitting image of her father. She was just as ambitious, driven, and sharp as he was, and one way or another, she would leave her mark on the world.

  But woe be to any man without a steel spine who tried to win her over. Susanna might look like a beauty queen, but she had bigger balls than most men and didn’t suffer fools who dismissed her, talked down to her, made the mistake of treating her like a princess, or—God forbid—castigated her as a brainless debutante who gained her lot in life through nepotism rather than earning it through hard work.

  And forget marriage. Susanna had no interest in getting married before she made a name for herself. Her complete focus was on her career and making everyone forget she was Harrison Devereaux’s daughter.

  Sarah, a new member of the kitchen staff, appeared beside Corinne and asked if she had any preferences for breakfast.

  “Whatever Patrick made that smells like blueberries, please. And iced tea.”

  Sarah gave her a strange look.

  “What can I say? I love iced tea,” Corinne said with a small shrug. “Patrick always keeps a pitcher filled for me anytime I come to visit.”

  “Yes, of course.” Sarah smiled nervously, her gaze flittering around the table as if she feared she’d made a mistake, then she hurried off.

  “I see Yale hasn’t broken you of your iced tea habit,” Harrison said easily, lifting his coffee cup for a sip.

  “No.” She met his eyes only for an instant before looking away.

  “Is the tea on campus good?”

  She tried to look at him again but couldn’t, blinking and gazing into the corner of the room past his shoulder. “Actually, no.”

  “She isn’t lying,” Susanna added. “It’s dreadful.”

  Harrison took another sip of his coffee and set the cup back in its saucer. “All the more reason to indulge yourself while you’re here. I’ll make sure Patrick keeps the pitcher full.” He paused. “That way, you can even satisfy any late-night cravings you might have.”

  This time she did meet his eyes, drawing in her breath at his inference to what had happened last night. He was taunting her, using his knowledge of what she’d seen to toy with her. Was he angry? Irritated? Bemused? Was he having a bit of fun at her expense? Or was this his idea of foreplay?

  Every impulse pleaded with her to look away from his dark, powerful stare, but she boldly held his gaze. “Thank you. I do sometimes get a craving in the middle of the night.”

  The corner of his mouth and one eyebrow kicked upward as he slightly tilted his head as if to say “touché.” Then he returned his attention to the paper. “So, Corinne, did you sleep well last night?” he asked a moment later.

  Obviously, whatever game he was playing was still afoot.

  “Yes, uh-huh.” She nibbled the inside of her bottom lip and looked down at the place setting in front of her. “And you?” She peered up from under her lashes at his hand as the tips of his fingers rested lightly against the rim of his cup. It was the same hand he’d used on himself last night.

  He hesitated for only a moment, then casually hooked his index finger around the handle of the small cup and lifted it again. “Never better.”

  The innuendo in his tone was unmistakable. Thank God Susanna didn’t pick up on it.

  His three sons strolled in a few seconds later. Mason and Gary were dressed in suits and ready for the office, but Franklin, the youngest of Harrison’s four children, was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He was a freshman at Cambridge and was on holiday break too.

  Sarah whisked in right after the boys did, glowing and smiling brightly, and set a plate of still steaming blueberry scones and a bowl of freshly whipped cream in front of her. Corinne knew with one bite that she had never tasted a blueberry anything this delicious.

  Patrick was the head chef of Devereaux Manor and had studied his craft all over the world. And it showed. He could take a week’s worth of leftovers and turn them into a gourmet meal worthy of the best five-star restaurant in Manhattan.

  She would miss Patrick’s cooking when she returned to Yale.

  A half hour later, as the staff cleared the table, Harrison’s oldest son Mason, whose gaze followed Sarah out of the room, said, “So, Dad, are you riding in with us this morning?”

  Corinne glanced from him to Harrison. “Riding in?”

  Harrison folded the Washington Post and set it on the table. “We’re going to the downtown office today.” He pushed back from the table, casting her a pointed glance. “The car will be leaving in ten minutes. Make sure you’re ready. I’ll need you with me all day.” With that, he stood, buttoned his suit jacket, and strolled from the room.

  As he exited, Susanna laughed and nudged Corinne’s arm. “Too bad you insisted on working for him over the break; otherwise, you could have gone Christmas shopping with me.”

  Christmas shopping. In other words, Suze was taking the family’s private jet to New York for a day at Bloomingdale’s, Bergdorf Goodman, Saks Fifth Avenue, and Macy’s. She would probably spend the night in the family’s Manhattan apartment and return to Devereaux Manor tomorrow.

  Lucky bitch.

  But Corinne had known what she was signing up for with this gig. There would be plenty of time to go shopping later, after graduation and before she started working for whoever made her the best offer of employment.

  Ten minutes later, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she met Harrison, Mason, and Gary in the front foyer as their limo pulled up out front.

  The forty-minute drive to their law firm in Raleigh was filled with a flurry of phone calls. Corinne could barely keep up taking notes, adjusting appointments on Harrison’s calendar, confirming meetings on his behalf with colleagues, and notifying members of his staff of scheduling changes.

  By the time they reached the Devereaux building downtown, Corinne felt like she’d already put in a full day’s work.

  The four of them filed out of the back of the limo and strode to the entrance
like a hit squad, the mass of nine-to-fivers on their way to work parting to let them pass.

  Inside, they marched toward the crowded elevator bay, Corinne taking two steps for every one of Harrison’s. The man moved like pure, raw power, creating a shock wave that extended in front of him at least twelve feet to remove any obstacles in his path.

  When the express elevator arrived, which would take them to the upper floors of the building, she crowded in with the rest of them, Harrison barely a step behind her.

  More people piled in after them, filling the elevator to capacity.

  A hand flattened against the small of her back. Harrison. She glanced up at him, her gaze quietly meeting his as every nerve ending in her body ignited. His eyelids fell slightly as he briefly searched her face, then he looked away and pressed his lips together as he guided her to the rear of the elevator, making room for a few more people to enter.

  The doors slid closed, and the elevator lurched softly as it began its ascent. The motion knocked her off-balance in her new high heels, but his arm quickly shot around her waist, catching and steadying her. His hand remained hooked around her waist for a prolonged moment, as if it belonged there, then he abruptly released her, dropping his hand to his side.

  Beside them, Mason and Gary chattered to each other about a case they were working on, oblivious to the chemistry erupting between her and their father. The others in the elevator checked their phones, sent text messages, reviewed their calendars, or talked quietly to one another.

  But she and Harrison stood stock-still, their arms pressed together, his fingers brushing hers. Accidentally? On purpose?

  By the time they reached the top floor, most of the elevator was empty, and she had been able to put a little much-needed space between them. Much-needed, because being that close to Harrison made her light-headed and aroused, two sensations she’d never felt in his presence before but couldn’t be denied now.

  For the next eight hours, she had little time to ponder what had happened in the elevator or the night before. The day was filled with back-to-back meetings, phone calls, and schedule changes. When she wasn’t busy taking notes and updating his calendar, she was intercepting his calls, taking messages, fetching files, picking up lunch, filtering his email, making callbacks, and confirming him for two charity fundraisers, a meeting with his publisher, and one political dinner in January.