Driving Him Wild

by Zara Cox

  My mascara was smudged to clown-like proportions, my lipstick non-existent from stress nibbling. My hair looked as if I hadn’t brushed it in days.

  Who cares? He’s seen you without make-up for three straight days.

  That didn’t mean I wanted to present myself looking like a scarecrow.

  I repaired my make-up, tugged a brush repeatedly through my hair until it fell in acceptable waves over my shoulders. My suit was professional but stylish, uniquely edged with purple stripes against black adding an unapologetic touch of femininity to the outfit. After gliding nude gloss over my lips, I left the bathroom.

  My heart banged harder against my ribs, my palms growing sweaty as I approached the conference room and opened the door.

  Jensen looked up from where he lounged in the seat at the head of the table, eyes just as chilled as the last time I’d looked into them.

  Despite the cold reception, I froze, my senses needing a moment to absorb him.

  He wore a dark navy suit, clearly bespoke, gloriously highlighting every superb physical attribute.

  His hair was combed, but it still achieved that sexily dishevelled look. The stubble he’d cultivated during our time in the cabin had now grown into a short, sexy beard, making his face even more wickedly handsome.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Mortimer. I hope I’m not disturbing you too much?’ His deep, gravel-smooth, desperately missed voice slid over me like silk.

  Ice-cold silk.

  My fingers tightened on the door handle as I shifted my gaze to where Elsa stood frozen next to him, her eyes wide with interest as they flicked from Jensen to me and back again.

  ‘You can leave now, Elsa.’

  Her lips drooped with disappointment, but she nodded. ‘Oh...er... Okay. Sure thing. The projector for your presentation is all set up for you, Mr Scott.’

  His smiled warmed for her but turned frigid a moment later. ‘Thanks, Elsa.’

  I shut the door behind her and approached, only then taking in the leather case that contained his trays of photos before my gaze swung back to him.

  In time to catch a flash of hunger before he checked his expression.

  I wanted to pepper him with questions, demand that he tell me everything he’d done since we last saw each other. But wouldn’t that be prolonging the agony?

  I took a deep breath, forced my gaze away from his face to the photos laid out on the conference table. ‘Shall we begin?’ I said briskly.

  ‘Yes. Let’s,’ he rasped, his voice brisker, perfectly emulating the Arctic wind I yearned to feel against my skin. Because, absurdly, it suddenly symbolised bliss and freedom I was terrified I’d never experience again.

  A different sort of shudder moved through me, a forlorn little forecast of what my future held. Desperately, I pushed it away. ‘Is this everything?’ I waved my hand at the tray.

  He laughed, harsh and bitter. ‘Are we really going to do it like this?’

  ‘Do it like what, Mr Scott?’

  Without answering me, he rose, strolled down the length of the conference room to the door and turned the key in the lock.

  A million butterflies fluttered in my belly. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  He ambled back to me, looking sleek and delicious in his suit. ‘I thought giving you a week to think things through would work,’ he repeated.

  I deliberately raised an eyebrow, despite my heart leaping at that fixated look in his eyes. ‘Then you obviously don’t know me well.’

  He stopped a few feet away, his gaze not leaving my face. ‘And whose fault is that? One of us ran away the moment things got a little too personal, and that person wasn’t me.’

  Shame engulfed me but years of staring opponents down weren’t easy to dismiss. ‘Is that why you’ve locked the door? To physically restrain me?’

  Distaste washed over his face. ‘That’s so we’re not disturbed, not so you can’t leave whenever you want to. I’ll never keep you prisoner, Graciela. Not unless you specifically ordered me to.’

  A fever started in my belly, heating me up from within. I fought to deny it. ‘Not going to happen.’

  Briefly, his nostrils flared, his expression dimming before he turned to the table. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair before curtly nudging his head at the tray. ‘Fine. Looks like you want to keep hiding from reality, so let’s get on with this, shall we?’

  He started the projector. I grabbed the remote and dimmed the lights and took a seat, forcing myself not to glance his way. Not to breathe him in.

  He negated all of that by dragging his chair closer, until he was a tempting arm’s length away. For the next long while hundreds of pictures scrolled across the screen, each one stunning enough to make paring it down to the essential twenty-five I needed for the magazine near impossible.

  When we reached the images he’d taken on the night of the borealis, fine tremors shook through me, memory attempting to shake free everything I needed to hold inside. Every frame he’d captured was overwhelmingly breathtaking, unique enough to draw a gasp.

  I felt him lean in close but couldn’t move away. Didn’t want to.

  ‘I’ll never be able to experience another borealis without thinking of you,’ he breathed in my ear. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. A lump had lodged in my throat; with selfish pleasure I took from his words. Yes, I didn’t want him thinking of anyone else but me.

  Abruptly, he moved away, hit the button again, and we scrolled through the last of the images. When Jensen activated the lights, I blinked, still awestruck by the power and beauty of the pictures.

  ‘How the hell am I going to choose?’ I blurted.

  His smile was stiff and cold. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  I stared at the display on the table, at a loss as to where to start.

  Impatient fingers drummed on the table, then, ‘Do you want my help?’ Jensen offered.

  I hesitated, the idea of handing over such an important decision to him stopping me for a moment.

  The drumming stopped. He lounged back and folded his arms as he watched me back. ‘Don’t worry, Graciela. You’re still in charge. I’m merely lending you support.’

  My heart fell at the mild sneer in his voice. And again, I wanted to throw caution to the wind, rewind to the blissful moments on his cabin sofa. To the intense, transcendental hours spent before his fireplace. But I needed to stay in reality. My reality, not the one Jensen believed I needed to face. Anything besides strict professionalism would only be adding to the heartache I’d experienced in the last week.

  If that meant letting this animosity ride out for the duration of our meeting, then so be it.

  I nodded my consent. He didn’t move immediately. His arms remained folded, his piercing gaze narrowed at me for a stomach-tingling stretch.

  Then, lips firmed in a line of displeasure, he went to work, sorting out forty pictures with jaw-dropping efficiency. ‘I think these will work for what you have in mind. They have an element of each topic you’re discussing, and, together with the interactive video in the digital version, I think your message will be heard.’

  I stared down at the pictures he’d chosen, added another ten of my own, and, refining down again, halved the photos and rearranged them in the order I envisaged them laid out in the magazine.

  We both stepped back and admired the mock-up, and he nodded. ‘That’s even better.’

  I wanted to preen at his compliment, but I couldn’t even give myself that little leeway. ‘I’ll leave them there for now, and come back to it in a while. See it with fresh eyes.’

  He nodded. ‘Good idea. You don’t want to saturate your senses before you make a decision.’

  I turned to the rest of the images, totalling over eight hundred. ‘It seems a shame for
all of these to go to waste.’

  ‘They’re yours. Do with them as you will.’

  Again there was a distinct timbre in his voice that caught me on the raw. I looked over and he was staring straight at me.

  Hunger tore through me. I licked my lips and his eyes darkened, his gaze rapt on my gliding tongue. Face tight, he took a half-step closer. I averted my gaze from him, back to the photos, terrified of the wild leap of my heart. ‘I can make a coffee-table book, donate the proceeds to charities in Alaska?’

  I felt his gaze linger on me for a few seconds more before he answered. ‘You have enough here for two books, easily. Even make it an annual thing.’

  The idea thrilled me, but even more was the thought of a possible future collaboration with Jensen.

  Terrified of the frenzied leap of my senses, I focused on the pictures, killing the idea of an extended connection with Jensen. There wouldn’t be a different outcome in the future. I would always disappoint and fall short.

  He joined me, handing me images on one subject, then the other. Within a short time, I had over three hundred photos for the first coffee-table book. He reached for the last set of photos at the same time I did. I jumped back, the electrifying effect of his touch lighting through me.

  His face froze over and he reached for his jacket. ‘It’s getting late. I need to be somewhere else.’

  ‘Where?’ I asked before I could stop myself.

  He shrugged. ‘I have a prior engagement.’

  A vice clamped around my heart. Was it business or pleasure? Was he seeing someone else? So soon?

  What right did I have to be distressed by it? I’d pushed him away. Still, the thought of him leaving strangled my insides. ‘We’re not done here.’

  He paused, raised a mocking eyebrow at me. ‘Aren’t we?’

  ‘We have an executive chef in the building. I can order something for us to eat while we finish up here.’

  If anything, his expression grew more remote. ‘You sure you want to risk indigestion by spending more time with me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll want to get personal again?’

  ‘It’s a professional courtesy, Jensen. That’s all.’

  His smile lacked any trace of warmth as he leaned forward, right into my personal space. And, God, he smelled so good, looked so mouth-watering, I wanted to leap across the gap between us, press myself against him and never let go.

  ‘What makes you think I’ll play by your rules of professional courtesy?’ he rasped.

  Because he brimmed with integrity. Because not a single time during our cabin seclusion had I had reason to call his character into question, the way I did so many people in my life. ‘Because I know I can take you at your word.’

  He hissed in a breath. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Graciela? I won’t let you toy with me.’

  My heart kicked hard. ‘I’m not—’

  ‘Did you decide some time in the past week that you weren’t quite done with me as you purported to be? That perhaps I’m good for one last fuck, maybe two?’

  Until I witnessed it for myself, I would’ve deemed it impossible but Jensen’s gaze was both sizzling and frigid as it swept over me, lingered on my face, my breasts, my hips and legs before returning. He wasn’t bothering to hide his hunger and each look triggered, until I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  When I stepped back, he followed. I didn’t order him away, couldn’t even get my tongue to work, the electricity zapping through me freezing my vocal cords.

  My hip bumped the table, halting my momentum.

  Slowly, he raised his hand, brushed the pulse leaping at my throat with his knuckles. My nipples immediately puckered and I bit back a moan.

  He tossed his jacket away, and captured my wrist. Holding my hand within his, he turned my wrist, his gaze on the fingers he was running over my racing pulse. ‘So tell me, did you miss me, min elskerinde?’

  I gasped, my senses cartwheeling at hearing those two words fall from his lips even while I was searingly aware I was foolish to open my heart up to it. ‘Don’t call me that,’ I forced out. I wasn’t worthy, not if I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be. Open. Wearing my pain on my sleeve. Vulnerable to seismic emotions that would eventually consume me whole.

  He exhaled long and deep. ‘Why not? You’re my mistress, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.’ His gaze still downcast, he raised my hand and placed an open-mouthed kiss on my wrist.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, arousal lighting through me as he slowly tasted my skin.

  ‘Staying in the cabin without you was fucking hell,’ he confessed roughly. ‘For the first time since I built it, I couldn’t wait to leave. Return to London.’

  Something deep, profound, moved through me. ‘Jensen,’ I attempted again, my heart hammering hard.

  ‘I’ll stop calling you min elskerinde if that’s what you truly want. After today, you don’t need to hear it again, anyway, right?’

  I didn’t pull away. I loved what he was doing so much more than the bleakness that awaited me once I ended this.

  He trailed erotic kisses down my arm, drawing closer with every caress.

  Something cracked open inside me, letting a flood of hope and desperate craving rush in.

  ‘Not going to answer?’ he mocked as he bit the sensitive skin. ‘I’m afraid I’ll need an answer to my next question, though.’

  I cleared my throat, forced my voice to work. ‘What question?’

  Glacier-coloured eyes met mine, blazing lust and censure fighting for supremacy. ‘Despite the bullshit we’re rolling in, I want you. Fucking badly. So may I have you one last time, min elskerinde?’

  I should’ve said no, of course. Should have snatched my arm away, shown him the door, tossed whatever temptation he was dangling out with him. But of course, I didn’t. Because this was Jensen. Gorgeous. Wickedly talented. Pure sex on two legs. As close to a perfect sub as my jaded heart and broken spirit could appreciate.

  So I cupped his jaw, caressed my fingers over his nape before sliding them into his hair.

  My fist tightened around a handful of glorious hair.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes squeezing shut as a hot shudder shook his towering frame. His hands stayed at his sides, his breath panting as he waited for my next move.

  ‘Maybe I won’t let you have me. Maybe I’m just going to make you watch me come.’

  Harsh, razor-sharp need twisted his features. ‘If—’

  ‘You’re not allowed to say if that’s what you wish. You’re so big on being real, then tell me what you truly feel. Not what you think I want to hear.’

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘Fine. I want to be the one to make you come, min elskerinde.’

  ‘Why?’

  Stark need darkened his eyes, transformed his beautiful face into a mask of pure masculine arousal. ‘Because you can’t hide from me then.’

  Another rivet yanked free, a slither of hope flaring high before despair doused the flame. ‘Did you stop to think that maybe I’m protecting you, Jensen?’

  His nostrils flared. ‘What from?’

  ‘From me!’ I released him, started to step back.

  He yanked me close. ‘Why the hell would I need protection from you?’

  ‘Because I’m not enough! You think you want the whole, sordid truth? I haven’t sustained a single relationship in my life. Not a single one. Everything I touch turns to fucking dust. I may be successful in business but I’m a mess in private.’ The unfettered confession snagged several emotions inside me, twisting up into a knot of need so acute I feared the power of it. ‘You think I’m hiding? Maybe I am. But I’m hiding for a reason. You judged your mother for living in denial. Did you stop to think she may have been protecting you? That she didn’t want you to witness every single sorry detail of her trying to hold it together?’


  His face tightened into a taut, angry mask, his skin losing a trace of colour. ‘We’re not talking about me. Or my mother—’

  ‘Why not? Because you feel exposed when we do? Maybe even a little unsure about that high horse you’re perched on?’

  Anger slowly dissipated, leaving behind a poleaxed look I’d never seen before. He dragged a hand over his mouth and jaw, and his gaze shifted from mine as he processed. Frowned as he turned his back on me and strode a few paces away. A different sort of tension rode him as the minutes ticked by in silence.

  ‘Could you have got her wrong, Jensen?’ I pressed softly.

  He whirled back, traces of alarm and uncertainty in his eyes. ‘Whether I have or not, that’s for me to deal with,’ he gritted out. ‘Right now, we’re talking about you, Graciela—’

  ‘No. I don’t want to reason this out. I’ve lived with this for years, Jensen. The promise of my mother’s love and her abandonment wrecked me for any relationship. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.’

  And the end result had turned me inside out, raw with anguish and guilt because not only had I brought pain on myself, I’d dragged my brothers into that dark hellhole. I’d ended up ruining not just my childhood, but theirs.

  Silence stretched, tight and fraught. ‘Fine. So what now?’ Jensen demanded, eyes narrowed.

  I shrugged, surprised my shoulders could move beneath the heaviness weighing me down. ‘I’m more than done with this crazy emotional roller coaster you seem determined to make me ride. So we can end this right now. Or we can end this an hour from now on condition the hour is spent the way we intended ten minutes ago.’

  I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t take the first option. Praying for a precious sixty minutes more with him before I had to let him go.

  He stepped forward, paused for an infinitesimal second, then lifted his hand to my cheek with a wry smile. ‘I’m not idiotic enough to walk away given those options. But know this. We might be fucking instead of talking, but we’ll still be having a conversation, min elskerinde,’ he said with quiet confidence that angered me, even as my heart wept at the gift of those two words.