Page 108 of Spurred On

“Yes, no . . . Both!”

“Really?” She batted her lashes.

He fixed his intense gaze on her and growled, “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

“And seducing me?” She let her fingers drift down the prim lines of the buttons of her blouse. He followed the move the way a hawk tracks a titmouse. His Adam’s apple worked. His tongue peeped out.

“I . . . ah . . . I . . .”

She leaned forward. “What are your intentions, Mr. Silver?”

He stared at her. Set his teeth until his jaw flexed. His nostrils flared. But he didn’t answer. It annoyed her, but excited her as well. Because she saw the answer in his eyes.

He wanted her. Wanted her bad. But something was holding him back.

She stood and wandered to the window, shooting a glance at him over her shoulder. “Is there a policy here?”

“A . . . policy?”

“Fraternization policy?” She batted her lashes and adopted the tone of a shy ingénue. With any hope, he’d pick up on her game. “You are my boss, Mr. Silver.”

He sucked in a deep breath. Glanced at the door. Seeking escape, or perhaps checking to make sure no one had wandered in.

“The last thing I would want to do is break the rules,” she cooed. “Nobody likes a . . . naughty girl.”

He shot to his feet. His eyes blazed. “Don’t they?”

She put out a lip. “Naughty girls get spankings.”

She could practically see the steam come out of his ears, like a character in a cartoon.

“Sidney,” he ground out. “What are you doing?”

“I should think that was obvious.”

He closed his fingers into fists. “I need more clarity.”

“Okay,” she said, slowly unbuttoning her blouse. “How is this for clarity?”

He fixated on the black lace of her bra. The tips of his ears went red. His lips worked, but no sound came out.

She sashayed up to him and went on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you here and now. And I want—”

But he cut off her demand with a brutal kiss. Ah, it was savage and crazed and feral. He backed her up against the wall with such force the painting to her left bounced off its nail and fell onto the file cabinets, but they both ignored that.

They both ignored everything but the scent, the sounds, the heat of the other. This passion had been too long banked. She could feel it writhing for release in him, in her. After a kiss that lasted an eternity, but ended far too soon, he worked his way down her chin to the crux of her neck and suckled on the bundle of nerves there. Delight speared her and she arched into him, clutched at his shoulders, urging him on.

But he needed no urging. He was right there with her.

Madly, mindlessly, they grappled with each other’s clothing. He unfastened her bra, and she yanked his shirt from the confines of his jeans so she could rake the bunching muscles on his back.

He growled and drew a nipple into his mouth—warm velvet encased her—and then he sucked. Her sanity flew. Pleasure and hunger rose in her belly. She felt like a jungle cat claiming her mate. Especially when he nipped her, nibbled and consumed her as he did.

With a snarl, he lifted her leg and reached beneath her skirt—and how relieved she was that she’d worn it. He took hold of her panties and, without any hesitation, ripped them off.

An even more delirious excitement snarled through her. It was more than that crazed passion in his eyes, more than his mumbled protestations of desire, it was more than the feel of his hands on her, which she had craved for so many lonely nights.

It was the power she felt in his arms. The ability to make him want like this.