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Mesmerised by his shockingly potent masculinity, Lauranne opened her mouth and her tongue flickered out to moisten her lips. His dark gaze homed in on the gesture with the speed of a heat-seeking missile and suddenly she was holding her breath. Remembering.
His eyes lifted back to hers and she felt the tension throb between them, the atmosphere so taut that it threatened to snap at any moment. His eyes dropped to the tiny pulse in her neck and then moved lower still, resting on the soft swell of her breasts under the cream silk blouse.
Did he know?
Did he know what effect he had on her? Fighting the temptation to lift her hands and cover herself, Lauranne stood still, helpless to prevent the hardening of her nipples and the growing ache in her pelvis.
Imprisoned by that shimmering dark gaze, she felt herself melt inside, hypnotised by a force too powerful to resist.
Sexual awareness throbbed between them and then he swore softly in Greek and dragged his gaze away from her, a muscle working in his lean, bronzed cheek.
Of course he knew, she thought helplessly. Hadn’t he always known? He’d recognised her response to him before she had. And that was hardly surprising. A man as experienced with her sex as Zander knew everything there was to know about female reactions. He was able to detect the most subtle of signs and know exactly when to make his move.
‘Farrer would never be able to satisfy a woman like you.’ His harsh statement took her by surprise and she gaped at him, stunned by his unspoken implication that he would be the only male to ever fulfil that task. ‘You’d trample all over him.’
‘Not every woman is vulnerable to your particular brand of Neanderthal machismo,’ she said bitterly and then wished she hadn’t because he was across the room in less than two strides, pulling her against him in a powerful movement that reminded her that she was talking utter rubbish.
She was extremely vulnerable and she always had been where Zander was concerned.
‘Let’s test that theory, shall we?’ His dark eyes shielded by impossibly long lashes, he gazed down at her, muttered something in Greek and then brought his mouth down on hers in a kiss of such savage urgency that she had no time even to whimper a protest.
Her mouth opened under the determined pressure of his and then she was kissing him back, her tongue tangling with his, her hands sneaking upwards to lock in his silky black hair.
It was wild and hot, the kiss of a man seeking to stake his claim, and she responded in full measure, her hips grinding against his in an effort to draw herself closer to the very centre of his masculinity.
How she’d missed this—
How she’d missed him.
It was as if their bodies recognised each other, drawn together by a force more powerful than the mere physical. She felt him shudder and then he was lifting her onto the desk, curling her legs around his muscular length so that they were held together in the most intimate way possible.
‘Not vulnerable?’ He growled the words against her mouth and yanked her closer so that she felt the hard throb of his erection against her most sensitive flesh. ‘Does he make you feel this, Lauranne?’
Heat exploded in her pelvis and she squirmed closer still, frustrated by the barriers that still remained.
And then suddenly he released her, uttered a savage curse and extracted himself from the coil of her body with decisive force, leaving her to clutch dizzily at the desk for support.
Her whole body throbbed with a sexual need that she hadn’t felt for five long years and for a second she stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend why he had ended something so utterly perfect. Then her passion-clouded brain flickered slowly to life and humiliation set in.
He’d ended it because the kiss had had nothing to do with chemistry and everything to do with revenge. She’d dented his ego and he was punishing her.
What was she doing?
This man was her enemy. Without thinking she’d issued another challenge, this time to his sexuality, and he’d responded by kissing her in anger, using passion as a punishment, not a seduction. The moment his mouth had crushed hers she’d been clinging to him, swept away by a primitive sexual need that she’d only ever felt with this man.
Was she really that shallow?
‘I hate you,’ she whispered, but the words were meaningless even to her because the lips that formed them were soft and swollen from his kisses and the eyes that glared at him were still hazy with passion.
‘I don’t care.’ He stepped away from her with all the grim satisfaction of a male who had very definitely proved his point. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. We’ll discuss terms over dinner.’
Dinner?
She stared at him, muted by the shivers that still affected her body.
‘What?’ He lifted a smooth, dark eyebrow in her direction. ‘No smart remark? No refusal? No, you’re the last man on earth I’d eat dinner with? This isn’t going to be much fun if you’re so compliant, agape mou.’
‘Why d-dinner?’ Still shocked by the intensity of her response to him, her brain seemed to have slowed to a virtual halt.
