Ha, well, they chose me, not you...at the recommendation of someone on your team, no less.
It felt good to know she still held favour there after walking out.
As for Daniel’s word, she held his eye; was he for real? ‘Your word?’
He made an affirmative noise deep in his throat, almost enticing a reciprocal one from her as it strummed at the heat swelling down low.
‘I’m willing to bet you’re just as caught up in this attraction as me,’ he said huskily. ‘And if that’s the case, you’ll realise this is about a bit of fun; no harm, no foul, no jeopardised business arrangement.’
‘You reckon?’ She sounded breathless, out of control.
No, no, don’t let this happen.
He nodded and raised his hand, her breath catching as she anticipated his touch, wanting and dreading it all the same, knowing that when it came she would lose herself in it, in him.
‘I’m not very good at...fun.’ She threw his description back at him, desperately clinging to what she knew to be true even as the heat of his hand brushed beneath her jaw, his touch so light it was barely there. And she wanted it there. Wanted every one of those fingers pressed into her skin as he kissed her.
‘Fun?’ he questioned softly, his hand following the contours of her neck as her head lolled back into his palm of its own mutinous accord.
‘Not this sort of fun.’ She trembled; fear, excitement, all manner of urges melting away the need to break free.
‘You’re going to have to clarify, because I’m talking about sex, nothing more, nothing less.’
Sex. Even hearing him say it had her tummy contracting over the ferocity of her need as her confession burst from her lips. ‘And so am I.’
His brow became a fierce V, his eyes sparking with something akin to surprise, disbelief, something more...but then it hooded over as he asked, ‘You’re afraid of keeping it casual?’
She shook her head. If only that were her problem.
‘I’m not very good at it.’ She stressed the it, praying it would be clear enough, even as her contracted tummy now squirmed in shame.
Why admit that? Why admit something buried so deep inside?
Because it wasn’t so deep.
Hadn’t Charles brought it all to the surface when he’d called her that morning?
Hadn’t the revelation of Julia’s relationship troubles kicked up her own storm?
His expression softened, a strange sense of relief shining through. ‘I don’t believe that.’
‘It’s the truth,’ she breathed, her chin lifting defiantly.
She needed to convince him, to get him to back away. She hadn’t been able to let anyone near her since Charles. Her revamped image was all part of her great big back-the-hell-off-I’m-not-interested persona. She didn’t want anyone to get close enough to risk Charles’s words being reaffirmed by anybody else—‘You’re cold...so frigid in the sack...it’s such hard work.’
Daniel wasn’t getting the message though, his intent searing her as his head lowered, his mouth brushing against hers to say, ‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’
‘I’m not...’ Her words trailed away, his lips coaxing her to silence, to oblige, to move beneath the hypnotic pressure of his. She lowered her lashes, a small noise quivering at the back of her throat.
Did that really come from me?
She tightened her grip over the counter edge, trying desperately to regain control. ‘We shouldn’t do this.’
He closed what little gap remained, his hardness pressing up against her belly and replacing all sane thought with sensation, the pang between her legs instant and desperate. She clenched her thighs tight, nursing it, wanting it to grow and not wanting it to all the same.
His tongue flicked out to tease her mouth apart, his free hand joining the other to hook around her neck and hold her in place. ‘Then tell me to stop.’
He took her lower lip in his teeth and tugged, the effect ripping a moan from her and sending streaks of heat straight to her neglected clit—Christ. She wanted him. Badly.
‘I didn’t think so,’ he murmured against her, his tongue seeking entry as her own dared to taste him. He was so musky and male, gentle yet demanding. He teased around her mouth, testing every curve, stoking the fire inside.
And then he growled, the sound fierce as his tempo changed, his desperation breaking through his control and she ignited with it. Like a switch being flicked on, she came alive to match him, move for move, her own mouth hungry for more. Her hands seeking out the crazy flop of blond, and loving that he let her. That he didn’t care. Not like Charles. Charles would have told her to watch it, be careful...
He broke his mouth away, pinning his forehead against her own, his ragged breath sweeping down her front, down the channel of her V-cut blouse. ‘I think you’re very good at this.’
‘Is that so?’ Wow, was that really her? So heated, so flirtatious?
She looked to him from beneath her lashes, every nerve-ending alert as it craved the hardness ever-swelling against her.
Yes, this was her. And this man wasn’t Charles, he was as lost to the moment as she... Or was he?
Doubt sparked. What was she doing? She had no interest in opening herself up again. Especially with a man she didn’t know. Couldn’t trust.
His mouth closed over hers once more, ravenous and urgent, his hand dropping to lift her against him. She moulded into him, her neck arching under the pressure of his continued kiss, her muddied thoughts warring with the passion racing through her veins. It felt so good to feel this rush again.
Again? Who are you kidding? No one has made you feel this crazy, this hungry, this desired.
And she could trust him enough to give in to this—couldn’t she?
He had heart enough; he wore it on his sleeve for Julia, his sister—her client. Shit!
She stilled beneath him, her eyes flying open.
You’re meant to be working, not getting cosy with your client’s brother!
She pushed him away, ignoring his widened gaze and the hard expanse of muscle that flexed beneath her touch. What the hell was he playing at, pretending to have something to discuss, only to seduce her? ‘That was a dirty trick.’
‘What was?’
She forced her breathing to steady, shifting her eyes away from the seductive fire in his. ‘Coming in here, under the pretence of a conversation, only to make a move.’
She stepped around him and headed to the sink, amazed that she could make her jelly-like body do her bidding. She took up a plastic jug from the drainer and turned on the tap, throwing her focus into what she was supposed to be doing.
‘I wasn’t pretending anything,’ he said, his voice still so near in the closed-in space. ‘I wanted to speak to you without my sister listening in.’
‘Really?’ She raised a sardonic brow at him over her shoulder and regretted even looking. He was ruffled, the evidence of her touch in the state of his hair, his puffed-up lips, the heat to his cheeks. He was too hot before, now he just taunted her with what she knew to be real. What she knew she could have if she chose it.
He grinned. ‘Yes, really. It was your provocation that made me forget it.’
‘My provocation?’ Water overflowed the jug in her hand but she couldn’t care.
‘Yes, you.’ He reached out and cupped her chin, scanning her face with that same curious look he’d been sporting half the morning. ‘There’s just something about you, and I can’t seem to control my reaction to it.’
She couldn’t speak. Wasn’t it how she felt too? Hadn’t he broken through the layers she’d effectively held in place for months, all in the space of a look, a touch...?
But hell, it was hardly surprising when she’d been celibate for so long.
‘Need a hand with that?’ he said, reaching around her to
twist the tap off and his proximity made her heart skitter anew.
‘Thank you,’ she said, backing away enough to escape the kitchen, jug in hand, the spark of an idea creeping up on her that she just knew she should quash before it took hold. It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t rational...but still, it was there...
Would one night do it?
One night—with him?
She walked around the flat, watering the plants that adorned it, all the while feeling his eyes on her, penetrating her, lighting her up from top to toe. He’d resumed the position he’d been in earlier, his brooding silhouette resting up against the bathroom door. And just as he had then, he clouded her judgement, her mind struggling to function under the effect of his gaze.
Would one night release her from this? Clear her mind and rid her body of this insane need so that normal service could resume?
‘I think you’ve given that one enough.’
‘What?’ She frowned and followed his line of sight to the spider plant she was tending to, seeing the water pooling at the pot rim, a trickle commencing down the side. She cursed, her cheeks warming as she righted the jug. Seemed she couldn’t even cope with the simple task of watering plants in his presence—unbelievable.
‘Can you pass me some kitchen towel?’ she snapped and then cringed, realising she was projecting her frustration onto him and making herself add a guilt-ridden, ‘Please?’
She wished she hadn’t softened her request when she saw how his eyes danced, how amused he was at her fluster, knowing it was because he understood the cause.
‘Sure.’ He pushed away from the door and headed into the kitchen area.
She forced her eyes away. She couldn’t carry on like this. For however long it took to find his sister a home, she needed to get this under control. Christ, she needed his sister to spread a good word. Not tell every Tom, Dick and Harry that she was an airhead... Or, worse, that she couldn’t stop lusting after her brother long enough to concentrate.
‘Here,’ he said, coming up alongside her and offering out the paper towel.
‘Thank you.’
She didn’t quite meet his eye as she took it and bent forward to clean up the mess.
Now was the time, she realised; if she wanted to put the idea to him, she needed to do it now. ‘One date.’
He stilled in the periphery of her vision. ‘A date?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ignoring the bemusement in his tone.
Hell, you’d be bemused if someone had just burst out with those two words.
Straightening up and smoothing her wrist over her hair to right it while avoiding the damp kitchen towel clutched in her hand, she nodded. ‘Let’s go on one date together.’
‘You want to do that?’
Yes... No... Yes.
The words whirled through her mind as their gazes locked and she lost herself in his warm, amber depths, a wedge forming in her throat.
Are you crazy? Do you really know what you’re letting yourself in for?
She headed for the kitchen, praying he hadn’t spied her hesitation. She prided herself on knowing her own mind, for heaven’s sake—why was he making that so hard?
‘Yes, I do,’ she said, placing the jug back on the drainer, grateful that her voice gave away none of her internal wrangling and feeling her resolve swell.
You’ve put the idea out there, you can bloody well follow it through.
Turning to look at him, she leisurely travelled his entirety, taking in his sheer beauty, his continued silence and bemusement, and her tummy gave the smallest little flutter. Was he going to turn her down?
Hell, no.
‘Unless, of course...’ she said the words softly, teasingly, her legs moving of their own volition to close the distance between them ‘...you don’t want to?’
He didn’t budge, his body seemingly fixed in place as he watched her approach, a telltale pulse ticcing in his jaw as he no doubt worked to gauge her intent.
He didn’t have to wait long, not in this confined space.
Once she was within touching distance she reached out, her fingers hooking over his belt buckle with daring provocation. The move bold and quite unlike her. Yet it felt completely natural, instinctive with him, as did the words that slipped from her lips. ‘Unless, of course, you don’t fancy a bit of fun together?’
CHAPTER THREE
A DATE?
She wasn’t simply asking for a date.
She was asking for a whole lot more.
So why wasn’t he straight on it? Why was okay suddenly so hard to say?
He narrowed his gaze, searching her face, looking at those steely grey eyes, all smoky with suggestion, her head tilted to one side.
Had he imagined her earlier vulnerability? Had she been playing him with that unexpected confession? But to what end? It was hardly the greatest come-on—Hey, I’m shit in bed—but then, perhaps that had been her game, to put him off. Only it had failed. Their chemistry was off the charts and she screamed of a woman in need of some fun. He suspected she’d not indulged since Charles had done away with her.
She toyed with his buckle, her eyes locked with his. ‘One date.’
And then he watched her lashes lower, her eyes travelling down his chest as her free hand came up to rest over his thundering heart, the heat of her palm permeating through his sweatshirt and rendering him speechless, utterly captivated. What would she do next?
‘One...’ she lifted her gaze, her eyes almost black as the pupils drowned out the grey, her enunciation bold as she leaned closer ‘...night.’
A night—for fuck’s sake, grow a pair: you want her, she’s offering.
But he didn’t do emotion.
Not in his bed.
Not now.
Not ever.
And she blazed with emotion.
And didn’t that make her appeal all the more? Make her different. Make her special. Make her interesting.
She lifted onto tiptoes, her lips coming up to caress against his own as she said, ‘Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.’
And then she turned and headed for the door so quickly he was left in a shroud of her vanilla scent, and so confidently he was left seriously doubting the emotion he’d read in her earlier.
This woman—vulnerable?
He looked to the teasing sway of her hips snug beneath the trouser suit, the sureness of that walk on those steep stilettos, the entire motion purposefully provocative on her part, and he realised he had to have been an idiot. There was no way.
Ja, he’d been played, all right, and he didn’t care what her intent had been, only what effect her luscious body was having on him right that second.
‘You’re on,’ he said, striding after her, his hand reaching on impulse to settle in the small of her back and making his palm tingle with the possessive contact. His eyes narrowed on the touch—how strange.
‘It’ll be the perfect opportunity for us to discuss what I need to without Julia in earshot,’ he said, drawing back his senses, telling himself the reason he’d given her made the perfect excuse to keep such a get-together platonic. If that was what he needed to do, what he had to do, to protect himself, to protect her.
‘So, it wasn’t just a ruse, you do have something you want to discuss?’ she asked, her surprise evident and making him grin.
‘I never lie,’ he assured her, ‘no matter how much I want something...or someone.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ She returned his smile as she pulled open the front door and gestured for him to precede her out. ‘Are you free this evening?’
‘This evening?’ He let his hand fall away from her back, ignoring how it itched to return as he stepped into the hallway and turned to watch her follow suit. ‘So soon?’
‘Why—you busy?’
‘No.’
‘Compl
aining?’ she pushed, her smile becoming one of teasing as she closed the door and turned the key in the lock.
‘Hell, no.’ He wasn’t. Not really. But her earlier behaviour had left its mark, still bothering him in the aftermath of their kiss, devoid of her lips so close to his. But did he really want that worry to get in the way of the night they could potentially share?
Fuck, no, he wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t sentimental.
One night, and then he could go back to his usual careful selection.
‘Good.’ She flipped open her portfolio and extracted a card, passing it to him, her eyes confident, almost hard as she said, ‘My office, eight p.m.’
Definitely played. She’s as sure as you are turned on—so why is that wavering doubt still clinging on?
‘I’m easy on what we do from there.’
He raised his brow, unable to help himself, his thoughts going down a far more pleasing route. ‘Easy?’
She sent him a smile that made him want to pin her to the wall, his unease obliterated by the rising desire, and then she turned and headed for the stairwell, leaving him to follow close behind, his mind alight with the varying degrees to which she could be deemed easy...
* * *
By the time eight p.m. rolled around, Zara was fizzing over with nerves and pent-up need.
Spending the afternoon fulfilling the requirements of her job, knowing full well what the evening held, had been a real challenge. And she’d been flat out, right up until that second, the pressures of her start-up venture not waning. But now it was time for fun.
She looked to the clock, reaffirming what she already knew, having glanced at it several times over. It had just gone eight and there was no sign of him as yet.
Had he changed his mind?
Was she about to get a call loaded with excuses? A text even?
Shit.
Mr. Temptation Page 3