Heat Exchange:The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1(8)

By: Deana Farrady


He laughed. Then she heard him shift and he pulled her back and tucked her up against him cross-legged. As far as the camera was concerned, he was just a guy comforting a nervous girl in a broken elevator.

Probably nobody was even monitoring the surveillance footage, she told herself. And if they were, they couldn't see the masculine hand slide discreetly along her hip and under the bunched-up suit jacket lying haphazardly across her lap. She was the only one aware of it.

Well, and Nyall too, of course.

She shifted a bit. She felt his chest rising gently behind her with the normal rhythm of breathing. His heart wasn't pounding like a freight train over rusty tracks.

"I'm just going to slip my hand down your pants and into your panties," he whispered in her ear. "It's elastic all around right?"

Janey swallowed. "Yes," she said inaudibly, then tried again after clearing her throat.

Without further delay, the hand at her waist burrowed inside her pants, crossed the barrier of her underpants, and spread out underneath the cotton fabric. Janey looked down at her lap and was impressed. He did it so smoothly the suit jacket concealing her didn't even move.

Things were starting to get seriously surreal. Janey registered the feel of Nyall Anderson's hand lying on top of her pubic mound. It just lay there not doing anything. She figured he was giving her time to absorb what he was doing.

"Not freaked out so far?" he said.

"Oh, I'm freaked out all right," she said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled. "It'll be fine. Just remember to look casual. Yawn. Look up at the ceiling. Like you're utterly bored."

"Okay," she gulped.

"Relax, Janey. Try counting by fives."

"The waiting is what's killing me," she said through gritted teeth.

"Remember," he said. "Bored. Like you're on a bus in heavy traffic."

Inside her pants, Janey felt one finger move. Just a tiny bit, but her whole body jumped and a whimper escaped her lips before she could think about it.

The finger stilled. "Careful," he cautioned softly in her ear, then lifted his head away and leaned back against the wall, one leg bent at the knee along her side. He pulled her imperceptibly back as he moved.

She glanced around at Nyall and saw that he had his eyes half-closed, his lips were smiling slightly, and he looked lazy. From his indolent pose, nobody would suspect his long arms and body were strategically placed for perfect access to her.

That's how I'm supposed to look, she thought. She gave it her best shot.

But thinking about her appearance was almost impossible when between her legs, Nyall's finger was probing at her cleft. It wiggled in more deeply and then it brushed by an area so sensitive that Janey's breath drew in sharply.

She'd read books and watched movies and taught herself to pleasure herself, so Janey was pretty sure she knew what that spot was. But she was confused. Never when she touched her own clit had it felt that way, not even remotely. She didn't masturbate all that often, and when she did it felt like a tiny little surprise spasm.

Just the one touch of this man's finger, though, and the vibes were already earthquake-scale. For the first time she considered that maybe he knew what he was talking about and he could actually do what he'd said.

"Wow," she mumbled.

The finger moved slickly over that sensitive area, circling it and rubbing across it. Tingles of delight ricocheted inward to parts of her body she hadn't been aware even possessed nerve endings.

Janey's mind emptied. She stared at the elevator carpet, trying to get her brain back under her command and do what he'd instructed and look preoccupied.

But that finger kept moving, and then there was a pinching pressure that sent a burst of rapture throughout her body. Janey gasped and tried not to squirm.

"Tell me about your catering business," he murmured.

What?

"The whole allergy thing. I'm curious, why did you choose that particular niche?"

Janey stared unseeingly at the carpet, trying to focus on his words. His finger hadn't stopped touching her as he'd talked. In fact, now it was stroking really swiftly. Janey felt her breathing become labored. It became hard to keep her head straight on her neck.

"Uh—two of my little sisters have—uh—life-threatening food allergies," she managed. "One of them went anaphylactic three times at school because—because she couldn't stay away from the junk food. I started —"

This was hopeless. Her head swam because the fast touch had changed, slowing to a light plucking, then a sweet sliding, around and around and around. It made her want to scream.

Janey's teeth bit her lip in hopes of getting her mind back on track.

"You were saying?" he prompted, his voice sounding polite, just as it would if they were having a slightly tedious conversation while waiting for an elevator to be repaired.