Excerpt of Rules of Negotiation by Inara Scott

Brit's finger brushed the inside of her knee. In the uneven glow the planes of his cheek bones were defined by dark shadows. Her throat momentarily swelled shut.

"You have an advantage over me," she managed to choke out. "I don't have spies. I don't know anything about you."

That wasn't precisely true. She had studied his profile before the meeting. But it was public information, nothing nearly as personal as her Supreme Court clerkship, or even her work with Solen Labs. Brit Bencher had assumed control of Excorp at the tender age of twenty-five, fresh out of business school. He had taken a small, failing corporation and turned it around. Ten years later Excorp was a giant, publicly traded enterprise with offices in five countries on three continents. And Brit had become legend for his hard-driving, soft-spoken style.

"What would you like to know?"

It was a reasonable question, but his hand had landed on her knee and she was suddenly having a hard time putting together complete sentences. "I don't...I mean..."

He reached over and touched her cheek. The tip of his thumb brushed across her lips. "We only have a few minutes before we pull up to the restaurant. I should probably save my life story for dinner, don't you think?"

His thumb was turning her brain to Jell-O. She pulled his hand from her face and took a deep breath. "Why don't you start by telling me why you picked this restaurant?"

His teeth glowed in the dark interior of the car. "Okay, if you're determined to do some talking, how about this? I tell you about the restaurant, you let me kiss you again."

He settled his hand around hers. The warmth of it traveled down the length of her arm to her stomach, where it caused a smoldering ember of desire to burst into flame.

"Deal." Anything to get him to stop touching her long enough to regain her wits.

"I used to live in this neighborhood," he began. "When I was young, we didn't have much money, and we only went out to eat once a year—for my mother's birthday. Alessandro's was her favorite. So now I celebrate here when I settle a deal." He traced a lazy circle on the back of her hand. "My turn." He inclined his head and covered her lips in a soft, feather-like kiss.

She froze, almost panicked by the powerful response of her body. Gently, his mouth moved across hers, then slid down the side of her neck. His delicate touch left a waterfall of sensation along her skin. He moved up to the hollow behind her ear, and then nipped gently at her earlobe.

His hand cupped the side of her face, holding her as he returned to her lips and deepened the kiss. They meshed perfectly, exploring mouths and tongues with increasing intensity. Tori arched her back, her breasts aching, needing more contact, more pressure. But he did not touch her anywhere else. Only his mouth ravaged hers, leaving her utterly defenseless. When he sucked gently on her tongue, she dug her nails into the soft leather seat and restrained the urge to drag his body against hers.

Dimly, she felt the car slow, then stop. Brit placed one last kiss on her bruised, tender lips, and smoothed a curl back behind her ear. "Thank you," he murmured, "for the appetizer."