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She was so used to seeing the autocratic set of his proud features that sometimes it was difficult to imagine that he’d led others into battle. He had seen what most people would never see in a lifetime, nor wish to. But she caught a glimpse of that man now. War was elemental but so was sex—and she saw a flash of raw emotion tighten his features. It was difficult to say what that emotion was: a curious hybrid of anger, desire and something else—something which kept Ashley frozen to the spot until, without any kind of warning, he pulled her up from the chair and into his arms. His breath was warm against her face and she could feel his powerful hands imprisoning her waist.
‘Why are you such a meek little mouse, Ashley?’ he bit out, his eyes blazing black fire over her skin. ‘Who cares what is “appropriate”? For once in your life—don’t you long to reach out and take what you really want instead of standing on the sidelines and letting it pass you by?’
She didn’t know whether he was expecting an answer and even if she’d been in any kind of coherent state to give him one she doubted words would have been able to pass her lips. As it was, she just stared up into the shifting shadows of his features, knowing what he was about to do and powerless to stop him. Uncertainly, her lips parted as he moved closer. For a moment he just stared down into her face, his black eyes almost unseeing. Until, with a small moan, he drove his mouth down on hers.
It was powerful and it was all consuming—a hot melding of the flesh, which started an instant fire of response singing in her blood. Her arms reached up for him and she clung to him. Into the warm cavern of her mouth, she heard him groan her name and she felt her body shiver in response.
‘Ashley,’ he groaned.
‘Jack!’ she cried brokenly, unable to contain her pent-up emotions any longer.
; Tangling his fingers in her hair, he deepened the kiss as desire shot through her. Beneath that sweet onslaught she began to tremble uncontrollably and he must have felt it because he drew his mouth away—reached out his finger to trace it down her cheek until it stopped on her trembling lips.
‘I want you,’ he stated unequivocally.
She could taste his finger on the tip of her tongue. ‘J-Jack.’
‘And you want me,’ he continued unsteadily. ‘Don’t you?’
How could she deny it any longer? How could she resist her heart’s desire. ‘Yes.’ Yet even as she whispered her assent she felt insecurity begin to bubble up inside her—because she could not bear unasked questions to come back to haunt her. ‘But what about…?’
As her words tailed off his eyes narrowed. ‘About what?’
‘Nicole.’ She swallowed. ‘Isn’t she more suitable? More your type. Someone who rides horses. Someone who—’
‘Shh.’ He silenced her by placing a finger over her lips. ‘I don’t want to talk about Nicole. I want you, Ashley. I have wanted you from the moment I first set eyes on you. It’s inexplicable and yet it’s all powerful. You’re like a fire that burns in my veins—do you know that? A fever I can’t escape. Your quietness and your stillness have invaded my soul and I must have you. I must.’
It was a powerful declaration which made Ashley tremble again—even though she feared that this was wrong on so many levels. But hot on the heels of common sense came the growing realisation that her own desire matched his—despite the disparity of their age and experience. She could see her own hunger reflected back from his ebony eyes. She could feel every fibre of his body straining as if it were being pulled irresistibly against hers. And wasn’t her own body doing exactly the same? Weren’t they acting like two magnets? Each drawn inexplicably to the other?
‘Jack,’ she whispered, and let her head sink against his shoulder.
‘Oh, Ashley. Don’t you know what you do to me when you say “Jack” like that?’ he demanded. ‘You make me want to carry you upstairs and undress you—to reveal the delights I can only imagine lie beneath the clothes you wear. To pull the pins from the hair you always hide so resolutely from my eyes and to see it tumble and spill over my pillow in rich and gleaming profusion.’ He stopped, a pulse beating frantically at his temple, and when he spoke again his voice was lower and much more urgent. ‘Yet for once you are strangely silent—and I wonder why. No protests about my bold declaration to make love to you? No tearing yourself from my arms and fleeing to your room like last time?’
The whole world hung on her answer. Ashley could hear a universal silence within the space of two heartbeats as unfamiliar emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She could feel the desire which heated her blood—the same desire which had driven men and women since the beginning of time. But along with that new and primitive need came something else—something much more complex.
Because she saw something of herself in Jack—even though he was rich and powerful and she was broke and relatively subservient. Something in his spirit spoke to hers. His hunger was her hunger—their needs perfectly matched. As if some mischievous destiny had decided to pair them off without caring about the consequences.
‘No,’ she answered quietly, lifting her head and meeting his questioning gaze. ‘This time I will not run from you. I can’t. Not any more. I couldn’t bear to go through my life not having known what it was like to be your lover, Jack.’
His jaw clenched—as if her heartfelt words had touched him—and then he made a little growl of pleasure at the back of his throat. ‘In that case, you’d better come right back here into my arms, right now,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Hadn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered back.
He explored her face with his kisses. First her eyelids and then the tip of her nose. His lips grazed over her cheeks and along the curve of her jaw. His mouth tickled against the lobes of her ears until she began to shiver helplessly. His tender seduction melted her completely until suddenly he drew his lips away from hers.
‘I could take you here,’ he said unevenly. ‘I could seduce you in a hundred places, but I think we’d better go upstairs, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered as he laced his fingers with hers—so for one brief moment she stupidly imagined them standing together at an altar.
But if you let him make love to you then you must banish all foolish thoughts of anything lasting, she told herself fiercely. He might take you to his bed, but he’ll never marry you.
He led her out to the staircase, jerking his dark head towards its curved ascent—his dark eyes gleaming as they sent out a provocative challenge. ‘You want me to carry you?’
She shook her head. She didn’t want to feel like some humble secretary being led off towards her unwilling fate by her powerful boss. ‘No, we’ll walk up there together. I’m not helpless.’
No, indeed she was not, thought Jack. In fact, she confounded expectation. ‘Most women would revel in the fantasy of being swept off to bed by their lover on their first time together,’ he mused.
