Surrender to Temptation by Lauren Jameson Read Free Book Online

him over. In me to the hilt, he groaned, long and loud, as he emptied himself inside of me.
    We stayed that way for a long moment, curled into each other. Once my mind began to function again, and unsure of the protocol in the situation, I shifted and looked down into his face.
    It was unreadable. The walls were up, fully up, and all entrances were locked tight.
    â€œI . . .” There wasn’t anything that I could think of to say. Slowly I peeled myself off of him, though I wanted nothing more than to stay curled on his lap, pressed again him.
    He let me go without comment, and it hurt.
    Sliding down on the bench so that we were no longer touching, I tucked my breasts back into my bra, smoothed down my skirt, buttoned the two fastenings that hadn’t been ripped off. I shifted uncomfortably, aware that my panties were soaked through and had been stretched so much that they would likely have to be tossed into the trash.
    Zach wrapped the condom in a tissue and cleaned himself off with another before redoing his pants. He didn’t look at me, so I stopped looking at him.
    He must have signaled the driver somehow, because within minutes—minutes that stretched long with discomfort—we were in front of the hotel where I was staying.
    How he knew that, I didn’t know, and was certainly not about to ask.
    â€œUm. Well. Good-bye.” Emotions were rioting through me, and I wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something. I wanted that pleasure back. The driver opened the door for me, and I scrambled out awkwardly.
    â€œDevon.” My heart jumping, I bent and looked back into the car. Zach was looking straight at me, and he looked ferocious. “You are a temptation.”
    â€œThank you?” I had no idea what to say. I wished for, longed for, a sweet kiss good night, a brush of the hands,
something
 . . . but then, he had warned me, he didn’t do gentle.
    I was several steps away, my heels clicking on the pavement with a much more decisive manner than I felt, when he again said my name. I turned, and saw that same fierce man watching me.
    â€œDevon. You have no idea what you started.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    â€œM iss Devon Reid.” The words that sliced through the frenetic air of the big room that housed my small desk at Phyrefly Aviation would have been unmistakable, even if they hadn’t been saying my full name. The sounds were female, forced sharply through a well-stuffed nasal cavity.
    That distinctive voice, combined with the quirk of addressing a person by her full name, belonged to Bini Gallagher, the administrative manager at Phyrefly—my supervisor.
    â€œYes, Mrs. Gallagher?” Though she addressed everyone by their full name, there would be hell to pay if one of us
girls
—and that included my male coworker Tony—dared to use her first name in any context. I smiled brightly, trying to maintain the expression even when the other woman pushed her tortoiseshell spectacles down her nose and peered over them at me with disdain. I tried—as a rule—to be nice to the older woman, because her negativity had struck me as stemming from a deep personal unhappiness.
    Besides, I was happy for the distraction. It had been an entire week since I’d seen Zach. A whole week of silence following one of the most intense experiences of my life.
    I thought that I might go mad.
    That lack of contact had been good for the work side of things, however. With no more sightings of the two of us together—no grist for the rumor mill—people seemed to have moved past the drama quite quickly, and on to the next entertaining thing.
    All of this was reason for a big smile, indeed.
    My smile, no matter how genuine, didn’t crack Bini’s façade, and I let it slip. I didn’t have the energy to pretend to be cheery today, not when I’d been up half the night, again, thinking about—obsessing over—Zachariah St. Brenton.
    You