by Nora Roberts
“Every day since,” he murmured. “Every night, I remember how you looked, how you felt. So I want more. And I wait for you to offer what I saw in your eyes that night. But you don’t. I can’t wait longer.”
His fingers streaked into her hair, then fisted there, drawing her head back as his mouth crushed down on hers. The heat seared through her skin, into blood and bone. Her moan wasn’t borne of pain but of tormented pleasure. Willing, desperately willing, her mouth parted under his, inviting him, accepting him. This time when her heart rose to her throat, there was a wild glory in it.
On an oath, he tore his mouth from hers and buried it against her throat. She had not asked, she had not encouraged. Those were her words, and he wouldn’t ignore the truth of them. Whatever slippery grip he had on control, he clamped tight now, fighting to catch his breath and hold to sanity.
“Damn me to hell or take me to heaven,” he muttered. “But do it now.”
Her arms locked around his neck. He would leave, she knew, just as he had left that first time. And if he did she might never feel this frenzied stirring again. “I want you.” I’m afraid, I’m afraid. “Yes, I want you. Make love to me.”
And his mouth was on hers again, hard, hot, hungry, while his hands flowed like molten steel down her body. Not a caress now, but a branding. In one long, possessive stroke he staked a claim. It was too late for choices.
Fears and pleasures battered her, rough waves of emotion that had her trembling even as she absorbed delights. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, took greedy handfuls of his hair. Through the thin layers of cotton, she could feel the urgent drum of his heart and knew it beat for her.
More. He could only think he needed more, even as her scent swam in his head and her taste flooded his mouth. She moved against him, that small, slim body restless and eager. When he touched her, when his artist’s hands sculpted her, finding the curves and planes of her already perfect, her low, throaty whimpers pounded in his ears like thunder.
More.
He tugged the straps from her shoulders, snapping one in his hurry to remove even that small obstacle. While his mouth raced over the smooth, bare curve, he dragged at the zipper, yanking and pulling until the dress pooled at her feet.
Beneath it. Oh, Lord, beneath it.
The strapless little fancy frothed over milk-white breasts, flowed down to long, lovely thighs. She lifted a trembling hand as if to cover herself, but he caught it, held it. He didn’t see the nerves in her eyes as he filled himself on how she looked, surrounded in the last flames of sunset that warmed the room.
“Mikhail.” Because he wasn’t quite ready to speak, he only nodded. “I…the bedroom.”
He’d been tempted to take her where they stood, or to do no more than drag her to the floor. Checking himself, he had her up in his arms in one glorious sweep. “It better be close.”
On an unsteady laugh, she gestured. No man had ever carried her to bed before, and she found it dazzlingly romantic. Unsure of what part she should play, Sydney pressed her lips tentatively to his throat. He trembled. Encouraged, she skimmed them up to his ear. He groaned. On a sigh of pleasure, she continued to nibble while her fingers slipped beneath his shirt to stroke over his shoulder.
His arms tightened around her. When she turned her head, his mouth was there, taking greedily from hers as he tumbled with her onto the bed.
“Shouldn’t we close the drapes?” The question ended on a gasp as he began doing things to her, wonderful things, shattering things. There was no room for shyness in this airless, spinning world.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d always thought lovemaking to be either awkwardly mechanical or quietly comforting. It wasn’t supposed to be so urgent, so turbulent. So incredible. Those rough, clever hands rushed over flesh, over silk, then back to flesh, leaving her a quivering mass of sensation. His mouth was just as hurried, just as skilled as it made the same erotic journey.
He was lost in her, utterly, irretrievably lost in her. Even the air was full of her, that quiet, restrained, gloriously seductive scent. Her skin seemed to melt, like liquid flowers, under his fingers, his lips. Each quick tremble he brought to her racked through him until he thought he would go mad.
Desire arced and spiked and hummed even as she grew softer, more pliant. More his.
Impatient, he brought his mouth to her breast to suckle through silk while his hands slid up her thighs to find her, wet and burning.
When he touched her, her body arched in shock. Her arm flew back until her fingers locked over one of the rungs of the brass headboard. She shook her head as pleasure shot into her, hot as a bullet. Suddenly fear and desire were so twisted into a single emotion she didn’t know whether to beg him to stop or plead with him to go on. On and on.
Helpless, stripped of control, she gasped for breath. It seemed her system had contracted until she was curled into one tight hot ball. Even as she sobbed out his name, the ball imploded and she was left shattered.
A moan shuddered out as her body went limp again.
Unbearably aroused, he watched her, the stunned, glowing pleasure that flushed her cheeks, the dark, dazed desire that turned her eyes to blue smoke. For her, for himself, he took her up again, driving her higher until her breath was ragged and her body on fire.
“Please,” she managed when he tugged the silk aside.
“I will please you.” He flicked his tongue over her nipple. “And me.”
There couldn’t be more. But he showed her there was. Even when she began to drag frantically at his clothes, he continued to assault her system and to give her, give her more than she had ever believed she could hold. His hands were never still as he rolled over the bed with her, helping her to rid him of every possible barrier.
He wanted her crazed for him, as crazed as he for her. He could feel the wild need in the way she moved beneath him, in the way her hands searched. And yes, in the way she cried out when he found some secret she’d been keeping just for him.
When he could wait no longer, he plunged inside her, a sword to the hilt.
She was beyond pleasure. There was no name for the edge she trembled on. Her body moved, arching for his, finding their own intimate rhythm as naturally as breath. She knew he was speaking to her, desperate words in a mixture of languages. She understood that wherever she was, he was with her, as much a captive as she.
And when the power pushed her off that last thin edge, he was all there was. All there had to be.
It was dark, and the room was in shadows. Wondering if her mind would ever clear again, Sydney stared at the ceiling and listened to Mikhail breathe. It was foolish, she supposed, but it was such a soothing, intimate sound, that air moving quietly in and out of his lungs. She could have listened for hours.
Perhaps she had.
She had no idea how much time had passed since he’d slapped his hand on her door and barged in after her. It might have been minutes or hours, but it hardly mattered. Her life had been changed. Smiling to herself, she stroked a hand through his hair. He turned his head, just an inch, and pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw.
“I thought you were asleep,” she murmured.
“No. I wouldn’t fall asleep on top of you.” He lifted his head. She could see the gleam of his eyes, the hint of a smile. “There are so many more interesting things to do on top of you.”
She felt color rush to her cheeks and was grateful for the dark. “I was…” How could she ask? “It was all right, then?”
“No.” Even with his body pressed into hers, he could feel her quick retreat. “Sydney, I may not have so many good words as you, but I think ‘all right’ is a poor choice. A walk through the park is all right.”
“I only meant—” She shifted. Though he braced on his elbows to ease his weight from her, he made sure she couldn’t wiggle away.
“I think we’ll have a light now.”
“No, that’s not—” The bedside lamp clicked on. “Necessary.”
“Don’t what?”
“Tense your shoulders. I’d like to think you could relax with me.”
“I am relaxed,” she said, then blew out a long breath. No, she wasn’t. “It’s just that whenever I ask a direct question, you give evasions. I only wanted to know if you were, well, satisfied.”
She’d been sure before, but now, as the heat had faded to warmth, she wondered if she’d only wished.
“Ah.” Wrapping her close, he rolled over until she lay atop him. “This is like a quiz. Multiple choice. They were my favorite in school. You want to know, A, was it all right, B, was it very good or C, was it very wonderful.”
“Forget it.”
He clamped his arms around her when she tried to pull away. “I’m not finished with you, Hayward. I still have to answer the question, but I find there are not enough choices.” He nudged her down until her lips had no choice but to meet his. And the kiss was long and sweet. “Do you understand now?”
His eyes were dark, still heavy from the pleasure they’d shared. The look in them said more than hundreds of silky words. “Yes.”
“Good. Come back to me.” He nestled her head on his shoulder and began to rub his hand gently up and down her back. “This is nice?”
“Yes.” She smiled again. “This is nice.” Moments passed in easy silence. “Mikhail.”
“Hmm?”
“There weren’t enough choices for me, either.”
She was so beautiful when she slept, he could hardly look away. Her hair, a tangled flow of golden fire, curtained part of her face. One hand, small and delicate, curled on the pillow where his head had lain. The sheet, tangled from hours of loving showed the outline of her body to where the linen ended just at the curve of her breast.
She had been greater than any fantasy: generous, open, stunningly sexy and shy all at once. It had been like initiating a virgin and being seduced by a siren. And afterward, the faint embarrassment, the puzzling self-doubt. Where had that come from?
He would have to coax the answer from her. And if coaxing didn’t work, he would bully.
But now, when he watched her in the morning light, he felt such an aching tenderness.
He hated to wake her, but he knew women enough to be sure she would be hurt if he left her sleeping.
Gently he brushed the hair from her cheek, bent down and kissed her.
She stirred and so did his desire.
He kissed her again, nibbling a trail to her ear. “Sydney.” Her sleepy purr of response had his blood heating. “Wake up and kiss me goodbye.”
“’S morning?” Her lashes fluttered up to reveal dark, heavy eyes. She stared at him a moment while she struggled to surface. His face was close and shadowed with stubble. To satisfy an old craving, she lifted her hand to it.
“You have a dangerous face.” When he grinned, she propped herself up on an elbow. “You’re dressed,” she realized.
“I thought it the best way to go downtown.”
“Go?”
Amused, he sat on the edge of the bed. “To work. It’s nearly seven. I made coffee with your machine and used your shower.”
She nodded. She could smell both—the coffee and the scent of her soap on his skin. “You should have waked me.”
He twined a lock of her hair around his finger, enjoying the way its subtle fire seemed to lick at his flesh. “I didn’t let you sleep very long last night. You will come downtown after work? I will fix you dinner.”
Relieved, she smiled. “Yes.”
“And you’ll stay the night with me, sleep in my bed?”
She sat up so they were face-to-face. “Yes.”
“Good.” He tugged on the lock of hair. “Now kiss me goodbye.”
“All right.” Testing herself, she sat up, linked her hands around his neck. The sheet slid away to her waist. Pleased, she watched his gaze skim down, felt the tensing of muscles, saw the heat flash. Slowly, waiting until his eyes had come back to hers, she leaned forward. Her lips brushed his and retreated, brushed and retreated until she felt his quick groan. Satisfied she had his full attention, she flicked open the buttons of his shirt.
“Sydney.” On a half laugh, he caught at her hands. “You’ll make me late.”
“That’s the idea.” She was smiling as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you with the boss.”
Two hours later, Sydney strolled into her offices with an armful of flowers she’d bought on the street. She’d left her hair down, had chosen a sunny yellow suit to match her mood. And she was humming.
Janine looked up from her work station, prepared to offer her usual morning greeting. The formal words stuck. “Wow. Ms. Hayward, you look fabulous.”
“Thank you, Janine. I feel that way. These are for you.”
Confused, Janine gathered up the armful of summer blossoms. “Thank you. I…thank you.”
“When’s my first appointment?”
“Nine-thirty. With Ms. Brinkman, Mr. Lowe and Mr. Keller, to finalize the buy on the housing project in New Jersey.”
“That gives me about twenty minutes. I’d like to see you in my office.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Janine was already reaching for her pad.
“You won’t need that,” Sydney told her, and strode through the double doors. She seated herself, then gestured for Janine to take a chair.
“How long have you worked for Hayward?”
“Five years last March.”
Sydney tipped back in her chair and looked at her secretary, really looked. Janine was attractive, neat, had direct gray eyes that were a trifle puzzled at the moment. Her dark blond hair was worn short and sleek. She held herself well, Sydney noted. Appearance was important, not the most important, but it certainly counted for what she was thinking.
“You must have been very young when you started here.”
“Twenty-one,” Janine answered with a small smile. “Right out of business college.”
“Are you doing what you want to do, Janine?”
“Excuse me?”
“Is secretarial work what you want to do with your life, or do you have other ambitions?”
Janine resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. “I hope to work my way up to department manager. But I enjoy working for you, Miss Hayward.”
“You have five years experience with the company, nearly five more than I do, yet you enjoy working for me. Why?”
“Why?” Janine stopped being nervous and went to flat-out baffled. “Being secretary to the president of Hayward is an important job, and I think I’m good at it.”
“I agree with both statements.” Rising, Sydney walked around the desk to perch on the front corner. “Let’s be frank, Janine, no one here at Hayward expected me to stay more than a token month or two, and I’m sure it was generally agreed I’d spend most of that time filing my nails or chatting with friends on the phone.” She saw by the faint flush that crept up Janine’s cheeks that she’d hit very close to the mark. “They gave me an efficient secretary, not an assistant or an office manager, or executive aide, whatever we choose to call them at Hayward, because it wasn’t thought I’d require one. True?”
“That’s the office gossip.” Janine straightened in her chair and met Sydney’s eyes levelly. If she was about to be fired, she’d take it on the chin. “I took the job because it was a good position, a promotion and a raise.”
“And I think you were very wise. The door opened, and you walked in. Since you’ve been working for me, you’ve been excellent. I can’t claim to have a lot of experience in having a secretary, but I know that you’re at your desk when I arrive in the morning and often stay after I leave at night. When I ask you for information you have it, or you get it. When I ask, you explain, and when I order, you get the job done.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t believe in doing things halfway, Ms. Hayward.”
Sydney smiled, that was exactly what she wanted to hear. “And you want to move up. Contrarily, when my position was tenuous at best last week, you stood behind me. Breaking into that board meeting was a risk, and putting yourself in my corner at that point certainly lessened your chances of moving up at Hayward had I been asked to step down. And it most certainly earned you a powerful enemy.”
“I work for you, not for Mr. Bingham. And even if it wasn’t a matter of loyalty, you were doing what was right.”
“I feel very strongly about loyalty, Janine, just as strongly as I feel about giving someone who’s trying to make something of herself the chance to do so. The flowers were a thank-you for that loyalty, from me to you, personally.”
“Thank you, Ms. Hayward.” Janine’s face relaxed in a smile.
“You’re welcome. I consider your promotion to my executive assistant, with the appropriate salary and benefits, to be a good business decision.”
Janine’s mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon?”
“I hope you’ll accept the position, Janine. I need someone I trust, someone I respect, and someone who knows how the hell to run an office. Agreed?” Sydney offered a hand. Janine stared at it before she managed to rise and grip it firmly in hers.
“Ms. Hayward—”
“Sydney. We’re going to be in this together.”
Janine gave a quick, dazzled laugh. “Sydney. I hope I’m not dreaming.”
“You’re wide-awake, and the flak’s going to fall before the day’s over. Your first job in your new position is to arrange a meeting with Lloyd. Make it a formal request, here in my office before the close of business hours today.”
He put her off until four-fifteen, but Sydney was patient. If anything, the extra time gave her the opportunity to examine her feelings and make certain her decision wasn’t based on emotion.
When Janine buzzed him in, Sydney was ready, and she was sure.
“You picked a busy day for this,” he began.