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Hands On

Written by Clare Connelly

Chapter Ten

IT IS A SOFT SOUND yet I hear it as I walk past her office, and I can’t help but investigate. I pause, expecting to find her on the phone or eating—Gemma makes ridiculously sensual noises as she eats. She practically comes when she has a really good burger.

Only she’s doing neither of these things. Her desk is a mess—a sign of the day we’ve had, that has seen us in various meetings, out on site, booking a trip to Rome and dealing with an emergency in Hong Kong.

And now, she is fast asleep, her hair running like gold ribbons across her keyboard, her body curled as a conch shell.

So at least I have an answer to that question. Her hair is long, just as it is in my fantasies. It would fall down her back, as I have seen it a thousand times in my mind, picturing her straddling me, her hair falling over her naked breasts, tickling my chest as she brings her mouth to mine.

I am frozen. Immobile.

And I am awake.

I can no longer ignore the curiosity that rips through me. It is not a benign form of curiosity. It is aggressive and driven by essential human needs.

I want her.

I want Gemma. I want to cross her office and shake her awake. I want to press my mouth to hers at the same time I strip her naked.


This is not good.

Not good at all. She makes a soft moaning noise and I swear, says my name. Am I imagining it? Did she just whisper Jack?


Is she dreaming about me?

I take a single step into the room, desire curdling my blood. What would she do if I woke her up? Would she kiss me back?

And then what, genius? You fuck Gemma and lose someone who’s become indispensable in your business? For what? A quick screw? It could never be more than that. Lucy has my heart—she took it with her to the grave. All I’m good for now is sex.

It’s not worth it.

And yet…

Her neck is swanlike, so graceful. Her arm is curved over the desk, her fingers dangling over the side. I imagine her pushing my clothes as I push hers. I imagine her naked and my dick hardens instantly, straining against the fabric of my pants.

Holy crap.

I want to fuck her pretty much as badly as I’ve wanted anything. And the problem is, I always get what I want…

And then what?

Back to normal?

No. Gemma is for work. She’s brilliant. Far more brilliant than I appreciated the day we met. I will do nothing to lose her. And I will do nothing to hurt her.

She is absolutely off-limits.

The thing is, before I knew about her house, I was so close to fucking her. She looks at me in the same way I do her—the danger is there. But she works hard to keep it at bay. Still, I was close to overcoming those defenses, to getting her into my bed and screwing her until she couldn’t remember her own name.

But then, the house.

She’s serious about this job. She’s serious about my company. And I definitely can’t mess that up.

There are the other women I am sleeping with. Women I don’t care about. Women who mean nothing to me.

But it can never be Gemma.

Not ever.

She’s too special to lose.

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Clare Connelly

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