And yet she’d forgotten the basics. He wanted to shake her.
She arrived back in the ballroom a few minutes after him. Looked a little flushed, headed to the other side of the room—soon in conversation with several guests.
He looked away then. Got to working some guests too—there was much that could be salvaged from the evening and he might as well get something out of it. A few hours passed and he steered well clear of her, knowing both his temper and temperature would stay cooking on high if he saw too much of her.
But she wouldn’t leave his mind—and his frustration rumbled.
Eventually he caught sight of her quietly discussing something with one of the waiters. Angry as he was with her, he didn’t like to see her so subdued. The sparkle had gone. The smile was still there but he could see the hint of strain. The flush had faded; now she was pale.
If only she’d made the media arrangements. It would have been a perfect night. She would have been so thrilled—and rightly so. He’d wanted her to taste that satisfaction, to know she’d done a good job and was capable of success.
Then he’d wanted to see her satisfied in a whole other, deeply personal, deeply physical, way.
He still wanted both to happen.
He didn’t like that it wasn’t going to be tonight.
Damn it, despite everything he still wanted to rip the dress from her and feel her warm and naked against him. Why did she have to be so bloody attractive?
He took a stroll about the room, trying to get to simmer level and not still be on rapid boil. But there was only one way to rid himself of this energy.
Unable to resist, he looked again. Now she was talking with some guests. She was aware of his scrutiny; he could tell by the way she stiffened slightly. But she wouldn’t look him in the eye. He didn’t like that either.
Time to work out solutions to both problems.
Would there never be an end to this hideous nightmare? All around her beautiful people ate beautiful food, had fabulous conversations and partied while inside Liss felt as alive as petrified wood.
She talked to a few local socialites, all wanting to regale her with all the gossip, and wanting to get more from her—about Cassie and Sebastian’s relationship especially. Liss clammed up—Cassie and her brother had a right to privacy, had been through enough already. And the mention of Cassie’s name only made her feel worse. She still hadn’t been able to see her.
They asked about Sydney—and she found she couldn’t share much about that either. As they were getting nothing from her, the women’s conversation strayed onto royal affairs—literally.
‘You’ve heard the latest one—that your father had an affair with a palace maid?’ one beauty asked rather gleefully.
Her father, King Aegeus. The uncomfortable lump in her chest expanded. She’d hardly known him—the only times he’d shown interest in her in recent years was when he’d expressed his displeasure at her pursuits. She’d genuinely grieved at his death—for the relationship that could have been as much as for the life that had passed. She knew she’d missed out. He’d missed out too.
This new rumour annoyed her—maybe she got the gene for inappropriate lust from him. And the tales the women were telling only reminded her that tonight the dirt-dishing media wolves weren’t here, and they should be.
‘You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,’ Liss snapped. ‘You should know that.’
There was a momentary silence, which Liss filled by simply having a long sip of her champagne. Not that it helped.
‘Is that your boss?’ one woman asked, looking over to Liss’s right. ‘Wow. He looks intense.’
‘He looks hot,’ said another.
Liss knew he was looking their way but she refused to look back. Instead she punished herself more by answering, ‘Yes. And he’s single. Why not go introduce yourselves?’
Slowly, after several long hours, the guests left. At last she could sneak away and shrivel up in peace.
Or not. As she made her way to the door James called her to him, the first time he’d spoken to her since he’d torn strips off her. Bracing herself, she walked over, looked into his darkly handsome face. To her surprise he was actually smiling. ‘It’s well after midnight. Going to start emptying those bottles now?’
And fire up her inner ‘wild child’? Not now, possibly never again. But she wasn’t going to show him how much tonight had affected her.
‘Maybe a few, yes.’ All bravado again. Maybe she should have a few dozen. Get blotto and wipe out all memory of this cursed night. But she knew it wouldn’t work. She’d never forget this nightmare.
‘Come finish one with me, then.’
Surely he was kidding? But he picked up a couple of glasses from a waiter and lifted, not a half-empty one, but a whole bottle of champagne. Carrying the lot in one large hand, he took her arm with his other and she pretty much had no choice but to walk the way he guided.
‘Right.’ She choked. ‘Why not?’ Her smile was half strangled and she felt like the damned going to dine with the executioner.
They left the ballroom—now almost empty except for waiting staff starting the big clean-up. Her heels sank a little on the thickly carpeted hallway. And even though the elevator whisked them up to the top floor with incredible smoothness, her stomach felt as if she’d been on an extreme roller coaster. And in the silence her heart beat louder than twenty drums in a marching band. And to make it all worse she felt dangerously close to tears.
He swiped his key card and ushered her into the penthouse suite. Gleaming marble tiles led to a kitchen, to a bathroom. Other doors must lead to bedrooms.
In the large lounge he’d set up office and it was to the desk that he headed, setting the glasses down and filling them. He held one out to her. She took a sip and he left his on the desk. ‘So.’
She clutched the glass, stepped back and tried not to stare as he shrugged out of his jacket and put his shoulders even more on display in the fine white shirt. ‘I won’t bother coming back to Sydney with you. I can have my stuff packed and shipped.’
He leaned back on the desk, legs stretching out long in front of him. ‘Are you resigning?’
‘I thought it was too late for that.’
‘I haven’t fired you, princess. Not yet.’
‘Oh.’ What on earth was she going to do for him now? Be the tea lady? It would only take one hour of that occupation before he’d turf her out of it. Hell, she couldn’t even make a decent coffee.
He wouldn’t take his eyes off her. ‘You blew the budget, you failed to invite half the necessary people, you totally screwed up the point of the party, but other than that it was an OK night.’
The vague compliment tacked onto the litany of failures got to her. An OK night? OK? For everyone else in that room it had been brilliant. And he knew it. Her defence mechanisms slowly started to crank up.
‘I’ll give you one last chance.’
She didn’t know whether to be pleased or to laugh in his face. ‘Last chance?’ Didn’t he get it yet? She’d failed. She was never going to ‘get’this.
His stance looked indolent but his eyes were intent. ‘Do it again.’
‘Pardon?’ She just wasn’t following his conversation.
‘I want another party. Bigger, better. With everyone we need here.’
Her attention snapped to his words.
‘You have a quarter of the original budget and one week to do it.’
Another party? Another gala ball with all those people plus the media? With no money? ‘You’re kidding.’
‘That’s what I want. That’s what you’ll do.’
‘I can’t do it. Do you know how hard it was to get all those flowers shipped here? I can’t repeat any of it. Most of the guests will be the same. They’ll expect different. They’ll expect more.’
‘You better come up with something else, then, hadn’t you? Something better. Something cheaper. Something quick.’
She stared. The full
reality of what he was asking hit her. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.
He stood, drawing up to his full height, and walked nearer. ‘I didn’t think you’d be one to turn down a challenge, princess.’
There were challenges and there was asking the impossible.
But as he came closer her body tightened, and her fighting spirit returned. Maybe it was the rush of adrenalin at his proximity, but suddenly she was sick of his escalating demands. Tonight had been a good party; he could at least admit that.
‘I know you can do this.’ He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You can, Elissa.’
It was those softly spoken words, and his rare use of her name, that really got her back up.
‘I’m not a child, James. You don’t need to jolly me into it.’ She shrugged her shoulders and his hands lifted off. Determined to get at least some credit from him, she went into battle mode. ‘Tonight was a success. So I screwed up a couple of things. But it was still a damn good party.’
He said nothing and she rallied to press the point. ‘The food was incredible.’
‘It was.’
Wow. A concession. She pushed for another. ‘The ballroom looked amazing.’
‘It did.’
‘The guests were all A-list.’
‘They were.’
‘The champagne fountain was just awesome.’
‘It was.’
She glared at him, all the more irritated because he’d agreed with her so easily, so calmly, so less than effusive. Now she really felt like a good argument. She wanted to win, damn it.
His mouth twitched. ‘So. You’ll be organising the next one, then?’
She tossed her head back. Looked him straight in the eye. ‘You’re all challenge, aren’t you, James?’
His eyes flared, flickered down. Then he drawled in that soft way that had all her senses on alert, ‘So, my princess, are you.’
Instantly everything changed. The underlying cause of their intent awareness was pushed fore-front. She forgot the party, forgot the job, could focus only on the here and now—on him and her and how they were going to sort each other out, finally. ‘How are you going to handle this challenge, then?’
‘You mean you?’
Her nod was slight, her body held still by the fiery, physical promise of his—so close but not quite there. She was sick of the way he held back.
‘The way I always like to handle a challenge.’ And suddenly he wasn’t holding back. His fingers touched her shoulders again but it was different this time—firmer, more forceful. Sizzling. ‘Hands on and in control.’
‘Hands on is good.’ She tilted her head back to look right into his face—to invite, to dare. ‘But I don’t believe you’ll be in control.’
‘Who’ll be in control, then?’ His head lowered, his gleaming eyes mesmerising her as he whispered the question.
‘Neither of us,’ she whispered back.
Amusement. Appreciation. Anticipation.
From his expression, he felt it too.
‘I guess that way we’ll be even.’ His fingers traced over her collarbones. ‘There’s still one outstanding problem, though.’
‘What’s that?’ She didn’t want any more delays. She didn’t want any more discussion.
Action was all she wanted now.
His smile widened and was as wicked as it could get. ‘We still haven’t worked out who’s going to be on top.’
Her smile matched his in both intensity and naughtiness. ‘The princess is always on top.’
‘That right?’ He was so close she could see the myriad golden brown flecks in his eyes and the way his pupils were swelling. ‘We can start that way if you like, then see what happens.’
In the second she saw herself straddling his naked body, sanity stared her in the face. Sleeping with James would probably end in disaster. But her job was pretty much a disaster anyway. She might as well have the one experience she’d been wanting more than anything for the last three weeks. It would probably only be a one-off. She was, after all, just a party plaything. She already knew he didn’t want anything more.
So why not be selfish, as everyone expected her to be, and do what she wanted? And she wanted him. Really badly, right now.
He knew. The confident strokes across her skin reflected his understanding. He wasn’t asking. He didn’t need to. He’d already started. His lips brushed her cheekbone and he muttered, ‘It’s time we dealt with it.’
Her eyelids fluttered at his caress. He kissed down her cheekbone and her eyes closed completely. She swayed forward, held her head up to his and parted her lips.
He kissed her then. And how he could kiss. Her glass slipped from her fingers and she collapsed into him, his arms tightened and she kissed him back, wanting to inflame him further. Wanting him to want her the way she did him—out of control, out of this world.
She thought of nothing, only let herself feel the sensations of his mouth on hers, his tongue searching, seeking the response she was only too happy to give.
His hands were blessedly firm on her body and she reached up, to run her hands down his back, measure his breadth and strength with the tips of her fingers, with the heel of her palm as she pressed him closer, circling her hips to press against his in the rhythm that came so naturally and that she knew would stir him into action.
He thrust one hand into her hair, holding the back of her head to his; the other hand pushed the small of her back, driving her belly into his hips, stopping her wriggles but making her more than aware of his hard erection. Without lifting his head he walked her backwards. She kept her eyes closed and let him, knowing he was getting them to his bedroom—to comfort and space. She was so hot she’d have taken him then and there—on the floor, the chair—she didn’t care, she just wanted…
His hand lifted from her waist and she heard a click. Opening her eyes at last, she saw they’d made it to his room and he’d flicked on one of the bedside lights, giving a soft glow to the room. The thick curtains were drawn and the bed was big and some kind soul had already turned back the covering. The sheets were pale in the dim light and she looked forward to feeling their cool comfort on her burning skin…
She lifted her face for another kiss but he dropped to his knees, sliding his hands from her thighs to her feet.
She looked down as he circled his fingers and thumb around the bottom of each leg, amazed and enthralled at the sight of him, in a tux, on his knees at her feet. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Worshipping your ankles. You have the most shapely ankles and calves I’ve ever seen.’
‘It’s the high heels,’ she explained, but feeling stupidly pleased by the compliment all the same.
‘No. I’ve seen you walking barefoot in my office. Your legs are incredible.’
Sitting back on his heels, he toyed with her skirt, flaring out the material and creating a cool breeze on her thighs. She felt the need to rock against him again. Felt the need to make him move faster.
‘Are you going to have a look under my dress?’
‘I’m going to have more than a look.’ His mouth was hot and open and wet as he began to press it on the start of her thigh, slowly moving across skin, and up. She stretched a hand down, reaching his hair, twisting her fingers through it, restlessly beginning to move against him. His jaw was warm and slightly rough and she wanted him to go even higher.
Suddenly he stood, with pleasure she saw the hint of breathlessness, the heightened colour in both his cheeks and eyes. Her hands lifted and she took the advantage, pressing her lower body to his and quickly unfastening the buttons on his shirt. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to make him take her fast and furious. She kissed the expanse of golden skin, quick and hot kisses with her tongue flickering and her teeth nipping; she rocked faster against him, wanting to make him explode.
For moments he let her do it and she felt his tension building as he stood still under her ministrations. Then with a growl his hands came back to her hips, holding them wh
ile thrusting his forward to dig into her and she lifted her face to let his mouth plunder hers. She wanted to shriek yes as his kiss deepened, feeding and fuelling the hunger that had her so desperate.
He lifted his head away with a jerk, his breathing ragged, and he inhaled deeply through his nose. Damn. She knew he was going to make her slow down.
Grinning at her, he loosened his hard grip on her hips and slid fingers around her back, finding the zip secreted to the side. He tugged it down; she lowered her arms to let the straps fall.
Quickly, with a soft slither, the fabric slipped to the floor. His gaze followed the dress down. He was silent for a moment, his grin deepening. Then he stretched out a long, lone finger and ran it along the fine band of her black panties.
‘Underwear.’
‘Very thin, very sheer.’ She held her tummy firm, trying to stop the shiver as his finger slid slowly from one side to the other.
‘But still there.’
She nodded. ‘Always.’
His grunt of laughter held a touch of mockery. ‘Not so wild, princess?’
How little he knew. ‘Too wild for you.’ She pushed, taking him by surprise, and he stepped back, the bed butting behind his knees. She pushed again. He was ready that time but let her get away with it anyway, falling backwards and, with a bounce and a laugh, landed on his back.
‘Well, then, climb on top, beautiful.’
Liss was used to being told she was beautiful, but he did more than just tell her. He made her believe it, simply by the look in his eyes—the almost painful passion in them.
She slipped her fingers beneath the thin panties and pulled them down with a shimmy and a wiggle. Stepping out of them, she twirled them on her finger before flinging them away. Propped up on his elbows, he watched her little stripper moment with humour that was underpinned by tense hunger.
She intended for him to become even more tense.
She got onto the bed on her knees and crawled her way up his body, keeping her torso lifted away from his. He could look but they weren’t touching—not yet, not until she was positioned above the prize. Halfway up his body she settled on it. That magnificent, straining, hard ridge of him felt incredibly good through the slightly rough fabric of his trousers. When he was naked, it would feel even better, but right now it was fun just playing. Rubbing her hands over his golden, hair-sprinkled chest, she watched his want grow. This was what she wanted, to be straddling him, ready to take him. Her fingers worked the button on his trousers, wanting to feel him bare.
Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress Page 9