He pulled the condom from his wallet and tore it open, shifting the warm, delicious woman in his lap so he could roll it on. She pressed her br**sts to his face in response, and he bit at her nipple through the fabric of her shirt.
She whimpered, the sound making his c**k throb in response.
And then the condom was on. Thank God. He needed to be in her, now. Logan ran a finger up the seam of her sex—she was already wet and waiting for him. With a groan, he pushed aside the fabric of her panties, exposing her slick pu**y. He rubbed a finger along her folds, watching her reactions until she was moaning against him, her fists clutching his lapels.
“Please.”
He sank home inside her.
She cried out softly, and he inhaled at the sensation of her, so tight and hot around his cock. She felt so good. “Brontë,” he murmured, his hands going to her hips and dragging her upward and then slamming her back down again. “My Brontë.”
“Yours,” she whispered, her hips following his lead. She began to buck and ride him, increasing the motion of his thrusts with her own hip movements, until he was pounding into her, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight with pleasure, gasping with every thrust. “Yours, Logan.”
He came with a groan, unable to hold back. The f**king had been quick, brutal. And she hadn’t come, he realized, even as his own release flooded out of him. But she only kissed him and rubbed her body against him, still rocking even though he was no longer thrusting. Telling him that it was all right, that she’d enjoyed herself even if she hadn’t come.
But he was going to make this good for her, too. He slid a hand between them and stroked down her belly until he felt the damp nest of curls. Then he pushed his thumb deeper until he hit her clit, and began to rub.
She stiffened against him, her fingers digging in, her eyes going wide. His other hand moved to the back of her neck, and he pulled her in for a searing kiss, silencing her cries even as he began to rapidly flick her clit with his thumb, bringing her over the edge.
She didn’t last long, either. Her tense body began to shudder almost immediately, her groan of his name swallowed by his kiss. Her pu**y spasmed around him, clenching him tight like a vise.
And then she was falling against him, replete.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she absently trailed her fingers over his jaw.
“Can I make a suggestion to my new manager?” she asked in a drowsy, sated voice.
“Ask away.”
“I recommend tossing out this food,” she murmured. “I don’t know that I could serve it to anyone after knowing what we just did in here.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take that into consideration. But you’re not going to be here to serve it, Brontë. You’re going to be with me.”
“I shouldn’t go with you, but I’m going to anyhow. The others are going to talk a mile a minute if I leave with you for a week.”
He wanted to tell her that it’d be more than just a week, but there was no sense in alarming her if she was still skittish. “You can tell them you’re doing training at my corporate office if anyone asks.”
“I’m not sure they’d approve of that kind of training,” she said with a wry smile.
“They wouldn’t dare say anything to you,” Logan said. “Not if—”
“Logan,” she said in a warning tone.
“You’re going to the corporate office to represent your company for a few business meetings,” he told her, smoothing a hand down her backside. “A few friendly, intimate business meetings.”
And night after night in his bed.
***
Getting out of the restaurant was more embarrassing than Brontë had imagined. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red as they left the kitchen. Logan had raked a hand through his hair and straightened his clothes, and he looked fine. Her? Her mouth red from his kisses, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. She was pretty sure her jeans were dirty from where she’d tossed them on the floor, too, but she supposed that didn’t matter.
Everyone was staring at them as if they knew exactly what they’d were doing. Sharon was giving Brontë a highly suspicious look, the other waitresses were giving her mystified glances, and only the consultant was acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
The consultant turned to Logan. “The next employee on the list is Marj Davis.”
Logan straightened his tie, barely glancing at the woman that stood nervously. “I’ve got another appointment to get to. I trust you’ll be able to handle it from here?”
Brontë studied her nails, positive that her cheeks were lit up like a string of Christmas lights. She peered at Marj’s face, but Marj seemed relieved that she wouldn’t be meeting with Logan after all.
Sharon was still staring at Brontë, though.
“Everything’s under control, Mr. Hawkings,” the consultant said. “I’ll send you my full report in the morning.”
“Excellent,” Logan said, adjusting a cuff link as he turned toward the door. He paused, glanced at Brontë, and turned back to the watching group. “I’ll be taking Miss Dawson with me.”
And there it was. The looks of the other waitresses turned from confused to knowing. Brontë gave them all a hesitant wave and then bolted for the door as soon as Logan opened it. Everyone knew she’d just made a ‘special’ arrangement with the boss. Everyone. Her cheeks stung with embarrassment. Her earlier bravado about not caring what they thought vanished instantly.
“Well,” she told him as soon as they stepped out on the street. “That’s going to make things awkward when I have to go back to work.”
He frowned down at her, as if just now realizing what she meant. “Should I have the consultant speak to them?”
“What? No!” God, she could just imagine how that conversation would go. “Let’s just forget about it. I’ll give it a few days to die down before I come back. I’ll talk with the manager about clearing my schedule.”
“I’m clearing it.” He put a hand on the small of her back, directing her to a waiting black sedan.
She stopped, looking up at him. “For how long?”
“Indefinitely. I want you with me.”
Her mouth opened, and then she snapped it shut again. Hadn’t she been so excited to take a vacation? To get away for a few days? This was just an extended one, really. “And I’ll have my job when I get back?”