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“I never said that.”
Clio didn’t know why she was so angry, only that it was unbearable that he wasn’t even moved. “Your look all evening did it for you. After that first drink, I found it was easy to not give a damn about you and your glaring and your low opinion.”
“Or it could be because you know what’s been building between us this past week and you’re terrified to face it and you wanted an easy out.
“Whatever happened tonight, come morning, you could say, I was out of it.”
He dissected her emotions, her decisions so easily that she felt raw, out of control, bereft of words.
He undid the golden cuff links and pushed his sleeves back, arrogant confidence dripping from every pore. “Is the buzz evaporating yet, cara?”
Clio pushed him, something hot and achy clamping her throat. “I’ve had enough of you and your—”
“No, you haven’t,” he said grabbing her again. This time, she was facing him and there was nowhere to hide. “Stop hiding, Clio. Unless you stop and face it, there’ll always be another situation to run from.”
“I’m not—”
“You left England when you found out that your father had arranged every day of the rest of your life from what you’ll study to who you’ll marry. It was an incredibly brave thing to do but it was still running away.
“For all these years, you hid even when you knew Jackson was cheating you—you let him do it. Tonight, you drank because you don’t know what to do with me.”
He placed his hand over one breast and a gasp fell from her mouth. He covered her mouth with his and sparks cindered at her mouth spreading far and wide, making her hungry and desperate for more. “What you’re doing to me, standing here like this, with desire lacing your gaze... Do you have any idea how torturous this is for me?”
And he gave her what she wanted.
He stroked and bit, nipped and laved at her mouth while she clung to him, her body, her will, her mind, all his.
“You drank because you didn’t want to be responsible for this, Clio,” he whispered against her swollen mouth.
Slowly, he pushed her back, creating distance between their bodies.
“For all the names the media calls me, I will not seduce you tonight and shoulder responsibility for it tomorrow while you call it a drunken mistake.”
Disappointment cooled her body as neatly as if he had dumped the champagne bucket full of ice over her head. “No?”
“No. When I take a woman to bed, it’s not out of pity or shame or joy or anger. It’s pure lust, bella.”
“So you won’t finish what you’ve started, then?”
“Not unless you speak the words.” In an intimate gesture that set fire to her skin, he tugged the delicate neckline with rough fingers. It gave in with a tear and a rasp—thousands of dollars and ripped now. The upper swell of her breast bared to his slumberous gaze. He bent his arrogant head and pressed a hot kiss to the flesh. Nipped it with his teeth.
Need knotted at her nipples, making them achy and tight. Her sex pulsed, wet and aching.
Clio had never known such liquid desire, as if her skin and sinew was all filled with want. Want for him. Want for the one man she shouldn’t want.
Want for the man who had given her everything, but really nothing.
“Tell me that you want me to tear that dress off of you completely, bella.” Anger colored his words. “Tell me to run my hands and mouth over every inch of your skin, tell me to sink into your heat until it is all either of us can feel.” Contempt punctured the heat in his words. “Tell me to give us both the relief that we’re both so desperately craving.
“Tell me and your every wish will be my command, bella.”
Utter resignation reverberated in the way he held her loosely against him, in the way he sighed against her willing flesh. And it was that resignation, that shuddering exhale as if he was giving in to the inevitable even as he hated it, that cleared the haze from Clio’s head.
Had she known that this moment was coming? Was this the only way she could think of having him, when she could absolve herself of all responsibility? Was this how she had let Jackson walk all over her?
Would she always let life happen to her, rather than take charge of it?
Shame cooled her skin, leaving her shaking. Tugging the torn lace of her dress upward, she stumbled back. Her breathing out of sync, she tried to collect her aroused senses together.
She wanted to be held and kissed and touched by him so much that it was a cavernous chasm inside her.
