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"Naomi?" He grabbed her and halted her, pressing her flat to the wall with the weight of his body.
Naomi gasped, hands on the wall, him at her back. His breath was hot on the side of her face, his masculine presence against her body insistent. "Let me go."
"You don't want me to let you go." He leaned down, rested a kiss on her cheek, but he didn't loosen the hold he had on her.
Her mouth went dry, nerves assailing her. She was angry, upset and in danger of completely losing it. She wouldn't let it happen, couldn't. Not in front of him, because – despite the drama with Clara – it mattered deeply what Lucas thought of her. Her stupid pride.
"I know you," he added, his voice a stern whispered at her ear, so masterful, so seductive. "You're stronger than this."
Even though she was determined not to be dissuaded, Lucas's demands aroused her – as they always did — and now she longed to feel the palm of his hand on her buttocks. His anger only rammed home how his mood could affect hers, how attuned they were. She felt wired, oddly high on the tension electrifying the atmosphere. And it was sexual.
Her lips parted, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip before she spoke. "You know me well enough."
It came out in a whisper, because it pained her to admit even that much.
He turned her to face him. His eyes were dark with lust.
Pleasure plumed inside her. "Lucas, I need to take a step back, but it's so hard because I want you." Her nipples were knotted and chaffing.
He stared at her for the longest moment, then nodded.
She thought he might be smug, but he wasn't.
That made her ache for him even more.
He ran his thumb over her lips, connecting with her intimately through the softest of touches.
She inhaled audibly when the touch lit a flame inside her.
His eyes focused. "You're hurt by what went on here and you want your own space, I can see that, but you're in my arms and you're sexually aroused."
"Yes," she admitted, "I want you so much I can't walk away from this situation, even though I know I must go."
The tension in his expression altered. Ah yes, that got to him. Was he surprised? She swallowed, emotion building inside of her. His eyes seemed to burn into her, desire swamping them both.
"You don't mean it." Tension emanated from him, his body taut as a bow. "Don't threaten to leave if you don't mean it."
"I should. You clearly have outstanding issues with your wife, and your son needs you."
"I can deal with all that. What I need is you."
His attention was all hers.
The knowledge burned in her.
"Naomi...?" He had an increasingly desperate look about him. Weaving his fingers in her hair until he had a fist full of it, he pulled her head back with a gentle tug and looked down into her eyes, his free hand moving inside her robe to claim her pussy. "What you said about not being able to leave..?"
A possessive look shone in his eyes, and the grip of his hand between her legs tightened.
"Despite your ex-wife drama queen, yes." She glared at him. "Doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it."
He tore open her robe, bearing her peaked nipples.
Infuriated at her own obvious arousal, she attempted to break free. But he had a firm grasp on her. He moved his hand, running it over the surface of her throat and then lower, clasping her breast.
A heady rush made her knees go weak under her. She wedged against the wall, tried to pull away, but he held her there, pinning her arms to her sides.
He bent to rasp his tongue over the bare skin of her shoulder, where it sent a flame beneath her skin. She opened her lips, moaned, stamped her foot, and yet she couldn't voice an objection, her body wouldn't allow it. With Lucas's large male body pressing so determinedly against hers, his mouth brushing over her skin—she was speechless, helpless, a victim of her own desire.
