“Show me your panties.”

The words were out of Deacon’s mouth before he could stop them. Not that he didn’t know where they came from. The moment Olivia had started clicking through Grayson’s drawings, Deacon’s mind had stripped off Olivia’s gray power suit and dressed her in each article of lingerie. From the sheer, sexy nightgowns to the hot leather corsets. And it didn’t help that Grayson had put Olivia’s features on the model in each drawing. It didn’t help at all.

Olivia blinked. “Excuse me?”

He could’ve teased his way out of it, but he discovered he didn’t want to. “Your panties,” he repeated. “I want to see them.” He watched a blush stain her cheeks, and her breasts lift in a quick inhalation of breath.

“B-but why?”

“Let’s just say that your designs intrigued me, and I’ve been wondering what style you chose as your own.”

She released a breath, and the moist heat brushed over his face and relocated beneath the fly of his jeans. She glanced at the door, and then whispered, “Someone could walk in.”

The fact that she was even considering it excited him even more. He smoothed back the wisp of hair that had come loose from the clip at the back of her head. “Don’t tell me you’re too bashful. Not when you’ve showed me your panties before.”

“I was fourteen.”

“It was still hot.”

Her eyes widened. “You thought I was hot?”

“Yes. So are you going to show them to me or make me guess?” When she only stared back at him with those pretty green eyes, he continued. “Let’s see. You have on a gray suit so I’m going to go with the purple satin panties with the little ribbon bows.”

She shook her head.

“The white see-through thong with the lace?”

Another shake, and her hair came unclipped, falling around her face in golden waves.

He lifted a strand and held it to his nose. It smelled as he thought sunshine would. Clean, fresh, and hot. “Please don’t disappoint me and tell me you’ve got on a pair of panties that are big enough to dry my two-ton truck after the car wash,” he teased.

There was a moment’s hesitation before she spoke so softly that he had to tip his head closer just to hear. “What with everything, I haven’t had a chance to do laundry.” She swallowed and blushed even brighter. “So…”

Her words trailed off, taking all the oxygen in the air with them. He felt light-headed and woozy. Or maybe his condition had more to do with all the blood rushing to his crotch. Whatever the cause, he couldn’t think past one thing…Olivia wasn’t wearing any panties. And hadn’t been wearing panties the entire time she’d been doing the PowerPoint presentation.

What had started out as an attempt to get a little peek escalated to an overwhelming desire to touch. In under a second he had her pinned against the wall, one hand cradling her jaw as his lips claimed hers, and the other reaching for the edge of her skirt. And sure enough, above the tops of the sheer, silky, thigh-high stockings was nothing but sweet, warm, welcoming flesh.

He dropped his hands and moved away as if Olivia were a match and he a stick of dynamite. “Look, I apologize. I had no business—”

Before he could finish the thought, Olivia became the aggressor. In two steps she had his hair gripped in her fingers and his mouth scorched by her lips and tongue. Unprepared for her forward assault, he stumbled back and tripped over the leg of a chair, sitting down hard on the boardroom table. And damned if the woman didn’t crawl right on top of him.

Between the hot kisses and the sweet center riding the hard ridge of his fly, control seemed like a petty thing to pride himself on. So he let the flame catch and the fuse sizzle toward explosion. Which is exactly what would have happened if the door hadn’t opened.

He pulled away to find Nash peeking in.

“Sorry,” his brother said with a smirk a mile wide. “I was just going to see if you were coming.” His eyebrows waggled. “But I guess the answer to that would be yes.”

“Get out,” Deacon growled.

“Yes sir, boss,” Nash said. “But don’t be surprised if someone else comes a-knockin’—someone who isn’t as friendly. That metrosexual dude that was hanging out by the elevators last night isn’t real happy that you and Olivia are still having a…meeting.”

“Parker?”

“That would be the one.” He flashed another grin before closing the door.

“Oh. My. God,” Olivia breathed, grabbing his attention.

She looked sexy as hell with her blond hair all wild around her face and her skirt hiked up to show off the tops of her thigh-highs. It was too bad that her face had gone from flushed passion to pale shock. He had to admit that he felt a little stunned himself. He did not lose it like this. Ever. He was the logical, level-headed Beaumont. And yet from the moment he met Olivia, she’d made him crazy. But he refused to let her know that. Tucking his hands behind his head, he smiled up at her. “Well, I think you’ve inspired another new line, Olivia. Women might not pay for invisible panties, but I know men would.”

Her eyes darkened. “You are such a jerk!” She climbed off him, offering one more view of heaven that stuck with him long after her heels hit the floor. “Would you stop gawking,” she hissed, “and get off the table. Parker could walk in at any minute.”

Those words made him stay right where he was. “What is up between you and Parker, anyway? I mean the guy doesn’t seem to know where you are half the time. What kind of a boyfriend is that?”

“The type of boyfriend most women want—the non-stalking type.” She got on her hands and knees and looked under the table. “What happened to my hair clip? Do you have it?”

“You say that like you think I’m the stalking type. I’m not a stalker. I just like to know where I can find my woman.”

Olivia stood and glared at him. “That terminology went out with the cavemen. Women aren’t possessions.”

“They are if they’re mine.” He sat up. “And if you’re my woman, I don’t mind you calling me your man.”—Katie Lane, A Billionaire Between the Sheets