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“I’m not fond of it, either,” she admitted.
“It gets to be a habit.” He looked down at their entwined hands. Hers was so small inside his. “The point is…there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She pulled her hand free from his. He glanced up and met her eyes, bracing for the tirade. But she leaned in and kissed his cheek; he caught the faint scent of coffee on her breath, and as those velvet lips grazed his skin the oddest feeling tightened in his chest.
“I didn’t know you had a mode other than the successful marketing executive you’ve shown me,” she said softly.
“I’m working on that, too.” If he turned his head just a little more, he could kiss her again. But he restrained himself. Barely. He wasn’t here for just another kiss. It wasn’t until the words were leaving his lips that he really realized what he was here for. Her.
“But I still intend to use your shoes to bribe you into another date with me. A real one. We’ll actually end up somewhere other than my room.”
Amusement glittered in her eyes. “Those are six hundred dollar shoes. If I don’t get those back, I’ll castrate you.”
“You’re avoiding answering.” And still hiding something.
She sighed and leaned back, hands on her hips. “Have I called you insufferable lately?”
“I’m starting to think it’s a term of endearment.”
After a prim chuckle, she sobered, shaking her head. “I don’t know if I can date you, Thomas. You’re still the executive working on my account.”
If that was her only reason for rejecting him, then he’d won. She wanted him, too. “It doesn’t matter. We can still work together. Keep it professional.”
“I know, but…”
“It’s a date,” he pointed out. “Not a lifelong commitment. Just to see if you and I can converse without fighting for more than thirty minutes. For all I know, you’ll put that pretty velvet spike heel right between my eyebrows.”
She bit at her lower lip, drawing it between her teeth. “All right. One more date.”
“You make it sound like a death sentence.”
He slid off the desk and moved around it. He’d let her have the barrier between them but he was done with it now. As he passed the door to her office, he locked it and closed the blinds on the door. He turned back to her and prowled closer. She backed away like a cornered fawn.
“Why are you running from me again?” he asked.
“I’m not,” she said, but she was still backing away. She paused, then amended, “Okay, maybe I am a little bit. It’s kind of something I do.”
“That’s okay. I’m good at the chase.” He caught her, then, and as his hands curled around those delicious hips and he jerked her close, she gasped. Her body was soft through the suit, molding to his with a lushness that made him simmer. “Want to know what else I’m good at?”
Her hands pressed to his chest. “Thomas, we’re in my office—”
“I locked the door.”
“Thomas,” she warned, her tone hard.
He kissed her. Kissed her with all the anger that had built up over the night, let it bleed away into the frustrated passion he’d been caging since she walked out on him. He wasn’t sure just what it was about her that ignited him, but when she surrendered with a desperate little whimper, he stopped wondering why.
He just gave in and let himself feel.
Her hips pressed tight against his, provoking him like a red flag to a bull, building that tight, needy pressure in his groin. He leaned into her, bending her back over the desk, forcing her to arch until her heavy, sweetly rounded breasts pressed into him. He dragged her shirt out of the waistband of her skirt and slid his hands underneath until he found hot, smooth skin. When he caressed her, she writhed, and he savored the shudders that flowed under his fingers, leading him up until he cupped her breasts and she gasped his name against his lips.
Tasting her mouth was no longer enough. He traced his lips over her throat, bit gently along her jugular, took deep-rooted pleasure in each soft, needy cry that rose when his teeth grazed her sensitized skin and his fingers played over her nipples, rolling them until they peaked to perfect hardness. Her hands flowed over his body, touching him with grasping caresses that pulled him into her, locked their bodies together until he couldn’t take it anymore.
He had to have her. Now.
He pulled back, looking down at her. She lay breathless on the desk, debauched and wickedly inviting against her scattered papers, clothing skewed and her hazel eyes turned to molten gold by longing. Longing for him. He held himself back long enough to kiss her lips again, a single soft brush, then gripped her hips and turned her over.
He maneuvered her facedown against the desk and parted her thighs with his knee. She arched, and God, what a vixen she was—nearly purring as she rubbed her own body to the desk, dragging her breasts over the blotter, rocking back until her ass ground against him. The seams nearly split as he shoved the skirt up around her hips.
