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He wanted very badly to have earned the trust she’d placed in him.
He thought he might have.
He wanted very badly to trust that she’d made the right call when it came to him not going to check on the kid.
‘Jared,’ she murmured. ‘My face is up here.’
‘I know.’ He got there eventually and smiled—because he wanted to.
‘Thank you for coming back on time and in one piece,’ she said. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Did you doubt me?’
‘Yes.’
And then she stepped up into his space, slid her hand around his neck and fitted her lips to his.
It was a quiet kiss—neither tentative nor bold. A very welcome kiss. He tried not to frighten her, tried not to let his hunger show … Except that one second he had his desire under control and his hands behind his back and the next moment he had his hands either side of her face and his longing could no longer be denied.
He coaxed her mouth open and she responded with an intrusion both accomplished and welcome. She tasted of passion and perfection and he groaned his pleasure, for it was a taste he hadn’t known he craved until this moment. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, unleashed his hunger for her just a little bit and felt her match it.
And, oh, the intensity she brought to everything she did—to the feeding of her need and his. He loved it.
Testing her, he unleashed a little more, and her eyes swept closed even as her mouth opened greedily. Careful, considered exploration turned into surrender after that as he offered up his kind of hunger—the kind with a hard and dangerous edge. His brand of possession—desperate and all-encompassing. And Ro … Rowan Farringdon … his director … was right there with him.
Revelling.
As if she’d been made for him.
He had her backed against the table moments later, because all he could think was that there was so much more of her to explore and he wanted his mouth on every last bit of it—no self-restraint left. Only then did she wrench her mouth from his with a gasp and put her hand to his chest to stop him.
Not that it stopped the tremor that ripped through him.
‘Are you eating with anyone this evening?’ he muttered roughly.
‘I’m working late.’
‘After that?’
‘What? No offer to bring dinner here?’
‘I want you gone from this place.’
He wanted equal footing and he wouldn’t get it here.
‘I want to take you back at my place, or the beach house—anywhere that’s private. I want to be in you, over you, under you, touching you for a good long while, and I want to make good on any promises I made to you that first night at my sister’s wedding.’
A slow smile lit her eyes at that. ‘You never made any.’
‘Make ’em up.’
Her mouth joined the smiling caper then—a generous curve that he desperately needed to explore some more.
‘You’re wanted upstairs,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll be finished here by ten p.m. and I’ll be back at six tomorrow morning. I’ll need food at some point, and I’ll need a bed to sleep in. You can pick me up at five past ten from the steps outside the entrance to the building.’
‘You don’t mind people here knowing who you’re going home with?’
‘It’ll be a problem, yes. How about we let the others choke on it?’
‘Dangerous …’ He liked it.
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
‘Have they give you permission to seduce me?’
‘They’ve given me permission to use whatever means necessary to gain your trust and co-operation. Not that I need to sleep with you to do that. Let’s not mistake work for willingness.’
‘Are you willing, Ro?’
‘What do you think?’
He waited until he’d reached the door before looking back. She was still leaning against the desk, still wholly focused on him. He wondered if his lips looked as kiss-blown as hers.
‘How many hours of sleep do you need?’
She held his gaze and the smile she sent him was full of promise.
‘In any one night? Six.’
Jared was used to men in suits looking him over and not liking what they saw. He was used to them seeing him as either a threat or a weapon to be used against others. He usually enjoyed a certain measure of respect—and when he’d been in Antonov’s service fear. Lust—he got that too.
Utter indifference was new to him.
The man standing behind the desk was reptilian—cold and imposing to look at. Pale grey eyes and greying black hair … that rare mix of colour that came out of nowhere and stayed in the mind like a thorn. He was in his fifties, at a guess. Big-bodied, well-honed and powerful. Imposing.
