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‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He glared at her.
‘My job.’
He grabbed her hand to stop her, his grip tightening when he felt just how cold her fingers were. He swore beneath his breath then tugged her towards him. ‘You’re going to get changed, now.’
‘What?’
He didn’t bother answering, he just switched his grip to her upper arm, wrapped his other arm around her waist and marched her from the kitchen.
‘Tomas—’
‘You’re going to have a shower and get into some warm clothes,’ he informed her as he half carried her up the stairs.
‘This is ridic—’
‘Your fingers are freezing. You should wear gloves.’ He’d hunt some out for her tomorrow.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Maybe you will be. After you’re warm and dry.’ He walked her into her bedroom and released her.
But she didn’t move, she just gazed up at him. ‘Tomas...’
He couldn’t bear to look into her radiant face—she was too pretty with those huge, expressive eyes and that sweetly curving mouth.
So he looked down at her wet jeans and refused to register the feminine shape of her legs. But he did notice and he didn’t want to. He looked lower still. Her shoes were even wetter with their tangled, filthy laces. No way was she going to be able to undo those laces when her hands were that cold.
So he dropped to his knees and worked on the knots himself.
* * *
Zara stared, her heart arresting as Tomas knelt at her feet, intently working to undo her laces. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. He was so furious. So handsome. And so fantastically kind underneath all that gruff exterior. He finished undoing the laces and made her lift each leg to slide each shoe and sock off. Then he sat back on his heels and looked up at her.
Her heart turned over in her chest as she gazed into his beautifully dark and sombre eyes. She’d never known anyone like him. She’d never wanted anyone the way she wanted him either. And she couldn’t hide it any more.
‘Get in the bath or I’ll put you in it myself,’ he said softly.
That order melted the last frozen part within her.
‘Really?’ She couldn’t help smiling at him. ‘How d’you think you’re going to do that?’
He looked up at her for just a moment longer—his focus dipping to her mouth. Then suddenly in one smooth movement he stood. Before she could step back he caught both her wrists in one of his hands and to her astonishment swiftly lifted his jumper and pressed her cold, cold fingers to his bare skin.
She gasped at the shock—and the sensation. She looked up into his face and saw how intently he was gazing at her. Her brain shorted out at the intensity in his eyes—and at the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand. His chest was rock solid and hot and her suddenly super-sensitive fingertips traced through the faint covering of hair.
‘Tomas,’ she whispered. Pleading. She couldn’t help it.
He didn’t reply. He just stepped that last inch closer and kissed her.
She moaned in instant delight, despite the fact his kiss was furious. He subjected her to the full force of his anger—and his passion—and both only brought forth the desire she’d tried to hold within herself for so long. But it was impossible to hold back under his onslaught. He overwhelmed every one of her senses. As she moaned again he pulled her closer, his hands roving down her spine to her waist and lower still, to pull her hips against his. She leaned against him, spreading her hands to explore more of his chest, loving the sensation of his hot, bare skin. She couldn’t get close enough. He was so deliciously hard and she just wanted more. She could feel her toes now, curling them into the plush carpet as he kissed life and heat back into her.
The kiss deepened and, inexperienced as she was, she strained to get closer, knowing she had to get closer still. But he teased—his tongue wickedly curling around hers, then stroking within her mouth. So intimate and so in control. And so totally destroying her inhibitions. He broke away to press tiny, teasing kisses across her jaw and then down her neck. She arched, letting him caress that vulnerable, sensitive skin with his lips—and then with a gentle nip of his teeth. She gasped, shivering at the contrary sensation and he returned his attention to her hungry mouth. Her blood hummed as he ignited the most basic and undeniable of needs within her so easily. So desperately.
Closer. She ached to get closer.
She rubbed her fingers harder against his rigid torso, aching to feel more. She spread her hands that little bit wider, and rubbed the tips of her fingers against his tight, flat nipples. His arms tightened about her and his kiss became nothing short of ruthless. She bent back in his embrace, letting him plunder—wanting him to take more. Taste more. Wanting him to claim every part of her exactly like this. Completely.
She moaned again, her legs weakening, but he abruptly broke the kiss. He pulled back to look into her face and she couldn’t stop smiling up at him, almost blind with sheer sensual joy.
Never had a man made her feel like this. Made her want like this.
He stared down at her silently, his breathing quick, his expression burning. But he didn’t smile back at her.
Her smile faltered as she felt his tension growing—and it wasn’t in a good way. Coldness stole back into her body as the tide turned. He straightened and so did she.
‘Go and get into the bath,’ he breathed, releasing her completely. ‘Go. Now.’
‘Y-yes,’ she stammered. Then turned and fled.
CHAPTER FIVE
It won’t happen again.
ZARA WASN’T AT all cold any more but she scrubbed her body all over—shocked and frustrated and aching. It was more than her body—her heart hurt too. Which was stupid because she knew he didn’t feel the same way at all. He hadn’t kissed her because he’d been thinking about nothing else for the last twenty-four hours. His action had been fuelled by anger, not lust. He’d only exploded because she’d defied him and he wasn’t used to it. He’d been exerting his will...it wasn’t that he felt want for her. It was just pent-up aggression.
But her feelings for him? Pure desire. She wanted so very much more.
And he knew it. Which was horrendously embarrassing.
Finally she made herself get out of the shower and dress. She refused to hide in her bedroom all evening, or, worse, leave. She wasn’t running away from a difficult situation. She was staying to finish what she’d said she’d do. She’d promised and she was stronger now.
And that was thanks to Tomas. Not that he knew it.
He was in the kitchen when she went down to prepare dinner. He too had changed from his damp clothes, into a crisp black shirt and pressed trousers and loafers. He might have been aiming for businesslike but he just looked ruthlessly sexy to her. She glanced at the table to avoid staring at him like some lovestruck teen. The bags containing the groceries had gone. He must have put them away.
‘I would like to apologise about what happened before,’ he said with grim deliberation, watching her from where he stood leaning back against the bench.
She flushed from head to foot but cleared her throat, determined not to sound as weak as she felt. ‘I was as much at fault.’
After all, she’d encouraged him. She’d moaned. She’d clung and touched and—
‘It won’t happen again,’ he continued as if she’d not spoken.
She nodded, annoyed as she felt her blush deepening. Because she wanted it to happen again. But he didn’t want anything more. He couldn’t look as if he wanted her less—his expression was so chilling. No doubt her over-the-top, sex-starved reaction had embarrassed him and he was trying to extricate himself from her neediness as quickly and firmly as possible.
Mortified, she couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes any longer. ‘I’ll get on with dinner now.’
He nodded and walked out of the room.
She breathed out, both relieved and sorry at his departure. The only way she was going t
o get through the next day or two was to keep herself as busy as possible. But as she prepared the steak she’d bought in the village and chopped herbs and vegetables, her mind raced. She should tell him the truth about their past. That she knew so much more than what she’d admitted to him.
But he’d be angry and she didn’t want to face that conflict alone—she wasn’t as brave as she kidded herself. And she didn’t want to hurt him. So she had to wait it out until Jasper arrived. But in the meantime she could get over her own weak desires and stay out of his way.
She already knew there was nothing worse than not being wanted.
* * *
Tomas walked back up the stairs to his den, distractedly gazing at the pictures in the gallery as he passed them. All faces he knew but didn’t know. Faces he couldn’t remember but that he’d since learned.
She’d smelt like sunshine after her shower. So contrary to the silent wintry storm settling in outside. He’d wanted her to come nearer instead of staying as far away as possible with the table between them. But what had happened couldn’t happen again—even if she’d looked as if she’d wanted it to.
