Deacon was playing a game he had no business playing. Especially when the money he was playing it with wasn’t his own. It was his brothers’ as well. And both Nash and Grayson wanted him to sign the contract and make them millionaires as quickly as possible. They had no desire to be owners of their uncle’s lingerie company. And Deacon didn’t want that either. Which didn’t explain why he’d refused to send the contract back with his uncle’s lawyers. Or why he had shaved his beard, cut his hair, and traveled all the way to California to deliver it in person.

Obviously something had gone a little haywire in his brain. Something that had gotten even worse when he’d seen Olivia’ opulent office, stood looking at the spectacular view, and finally turned to find a spoiled executive in a suit that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe. And now, whether he had a right or not, he wasn’t through making Olivia sweat.

Although she didn’t appear to be sweating too much.

“So I guess you want me to beg,” she said. When he didn’t reply, she shrugged. “Okay. You want me on my knees or will a couple of pretty pleases do?”

He stopped twirling the pen through his fingers and called her bluff. “Knees would be nice.” He expected her to tell him to go to hell. Instead she walked around the desk and, without the slightest hesitation, lifted her sexy-as-hell skirt just enough to flash him a peek of pretty pink garter belt fasteners and thigh-high stockings before kneeling in front of him.

Her piercing green eyes pinned him as she spoke in a voice that was anything but humble. “Please, Deacon. Please sign the contract.”

It was his fantasy all over again. Technically, the desk and office were his. And while Olivia wasn’t exactly in rags, she was on her knees. Which didn’t explain why all the fun had drained right out of the game. Probably because he knew what it felt like to be forced to beg. Knew exactly the feeling of humiliation that came with needing something someone else had.

“Get up,” he said.

“Why?” She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Did I do it wrong, Deacon? Sorry, but I’m not as good at begging as the Beaumonts.”

The pen slipped from his fingers, and the leather chair creaked as he sat up, bringing his face inches from hers. “Shut up.”

“Or what? You won’t sign the contract?” She laughed, her breath coming out in a puff of heat. “We both know that you won’t walk away from fifty million.”

Her condescending attitude took Deacon from angry to flat-out pissed. So pissed that he couldn’t even put together a reply that would wipe the smartassed smirk off her face. That being the case, he chose a nonverbal way to do it.

He kissed her.

Not a soft kiss, but a hard, forceful one that ended with him sucking her plump bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a nip. When he pulled back, Olivia was staring at him with shocked eyes. He expected her anger and didn’t even tense when she lifted her hand. But instead of delivering a stinging, much-deserved slap she slid her hand over the stubble on his jaw before pulling him back for another kiss.

She kissed much better than she begged. He actually believed that she was enjoying it. He sure as hell was. Her lips were hungry and aggressive, her mouth hot and wet, and her tongue slick and teasing.

Deacon opened his legs, and she moved right into the space like a moored ship. Her hands curled around his neck while his curved over her ass, lifting her knees off the plush carpeting. As he squeezed the firm cheeks, his mind ran through the list of things he would need to accomplish before he could be surrounded by the heat of her body. Lift skirt. Remove panties. Unzip jeans. Pull out cock. Get condom—damn.

He pulled away from those scorching lips. Then, just to make sure he didn’t succumb to a pair of desire-drugged eyes, he shoved the caster chair back a good three feet. But even with the added space, it took a while for him to get ahold of his raging hormones.

Olivia didn’t take quite as long.

After only a few blinks, she got to her feet, took two wobbly steps toward him, then hauled off and gave him the stinging slap he’d expected earlier. By the time his ears stopped ringing, she had the pen and contract in hand.

“I did what you asked,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now you sign.”