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He was already cupping the back of her skull with his large hand, fingers sliding through her fine hair, probing for the bump.
Her shoulders squirmed against the smooth surface of the door. ‘I don’t need you to—’
‘Be still!’ he said coolly.
Her small nostrils flared. ‘Don’t give me orders—’
‘Then stop acting like a child.’
‘First I’m a femme fatale and now I’m a child. Make up your mind!’ she snapped.
‘Oh, I will,’ he promised, with such ominous certainty she shivered, and covered it with another complaint.
‘Ouch!’
‘Don’t fuss. It’s only a tiny bump.’ His hand came back to rest on the back of her neck, his fingers firm on the sensitive skin above the neck of her tee shirt.
‘I know, that’s why I didn’t need you touching me!’
The fierce statement prompted a crackling little pause.
‘Does my touch disturb you that much?’ His thumb began to describe little circles on the downy skin in the hollow at her nape.
‘No,’ she answered quickly. Too quickly, judging by the diabolical light that leapt into his eyes, turning them to hot ice.
‘Oh, really? Shall we put that to the test?’
He jerked her into his arms, crushing her breasts against his hard chest, the arm that was barring the door swinging down to catch her around the hips, pressing her into the potent heat of his braced thighs, the hand at the back of her neck holding her still for his swooping mouth.
Simmering tension exploded into a firestorm of furious elation.
His hard lips devoured her strangled cry, feeding on the shocked excitement that shuddered through her body as his tongue thrust past her teeth to delve into the rich, creamy-wet depths of her captive mouth. The taste of him was tart and spicy, a tantalising burst of exotic flavour on her tongue that made her hungry for more. The musky natural scent of his warm skin with its underlying hint of soap and citrus filled her nostrils, the hard angles of his face blurring as her eyelids fluttered down, blocking out everything but the on-rushing tide of hot, syrupy pleasure.
Some vague, still-sane part of her brain warned her that his angry intent was to insult and demean, but somehow the message got tangled up in the transmission and, instead of pushing against his powerful shoulders, her fingers clenched the open lapels of his jacket as she rode out the storm of fiery sensation, dragging herself deeper into the ravishment of his plundering kiss.
His big hand swept down over the rounded cheeks of her bottom confined in the taut denim, adjusting her more tightly against the sinewy flex of his thighs, then slipped under the loose hem of her tee shirt. His fingers skimmed swiftly up the side of her ribcage to trace the smooth underwire of her lacy bra around to the tiny satin bow that nestled in her generous cleavage.
Electric shivers goosed her skin at his trailing touch and her jaw tensed, her teeth involuntarily testing the firm resilience of his limber tongue. He responded instantly with a few sensuous nips of his own, a deep, growling rumble in his chest vibrating through the crushed tips of her breasts.
‘Don’t pretend you don’t want this,’ he warned savagely, shifting his stance so that he could palm the fullness of one breast, his fingers spreading to accommodate the lush ripeness overflowing the lace cup and contracting to massage the swollen flesh, drawing a ragged whimper from her love-bitten lips.
‘Oh, yes…’ he taunted with raw satisfaction as his probing thumb found the betraying outline of her lac
e-encased nipple and scraped a circle around the rigid little knot, ‘you like what I’m doing to you, don’t you, Emily?’ he demanded, lifting his marauding mouth so that he could look down at her dazed blue eyes, the hand behind her neck controlling her feeble attempt to reclaim her disordered senses. ‘My touch more than disturbs you—you’re such a hot little piece, I could have you right here and now—all I have to do is this…’ He pinched at the painfully engorged nipple, playing with it between his fingers, at the same time bending down to run his hot tongue around her glistening lips, making a rough sound of triumph as he felt her arching shudder of helpless response.
‘No…’ In spite of her fainting excitement she managed to gasp a thready objection to his gloating words, but it only served to spur him on to an even more devastating demonstration of sexual mastery.
His mouth slanted over hers and burrowed again into the dark depths, suckling on her tongue in hot, strong bursts, keeping rhythmic pace with the milking movements of his fingers as they thrust beneath the cup of her bra and fondled her naked breast and velvety nipple with taunting skill.
He pushed his thigh between her legs, his virile hardness rubbing against the damp notch of her jeans.
‘Are you like this with everyone or is it just me?’ he said in a gravelly whisper that flayed her to the bone. ‘If you want me to give you what you’re panting for, you’ll have to rethink your strategy with Peter. I don’t think he would feel so beneficent if he walked in right now…’
From somewhere Emily found the strength and the will to rip herself away from his torrid embrace.
She staggered back, wiping the back of her forearm and hand across her mouth to rid herself of the bitter taste of self-betrayal. To think that she had actually believed that he might be feeling the same thrill of discovery that she had experienced! Her face tightened with revulsion at her own gullibility.
To her disbelief her gesture appeared to offend him. ‘Don’t do that.’ He prowled after her, bristling with outraged masculinity.
