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“Are you refuting the fact that you went to my hotel to show me in a compromising position? To advantage my ex-wife’s divorce petition?”
Maggie’s chest was lifting and falling rapidly as each breath burned through her. What could she say? He was right to feel angry. But he was angry at having been caught.
She tilted her chin at an angle that clearly stated her willingness to argue the point. “I didn’t do anything except show up at a bar that you happened to be in. You hit on me, publicly and obviously.” She squeezed her eyes shut as the detailed memory she’d blocked out for two years came flooding back to her. “If you were not an unfaithful pig, your wife would not have had any photographs to use, would she?”
He exhaled an angry breath. He stood, chest pressed to her breast, mouth just an inch or so from hers. He was quiet, except for his ragged breathing, for so long that Maggie wondered if he intended to speak again. “You do not know how long I have waited for this.” And though she couldn’t see him well enough, she could hear the bitter grin in his voice.
“For what?” She asked, her eyes trying to find his in the darkness.
“To find you again. I’ve fantasised about how I could repay your despicable behaviour that night. I didn’t know until now what form that payback would take.”
Bang, bang, bang, her heart was thumping against her ribcage, and a cold sweat had broken out on her forehead.
“Oh, yes? And what form is that?” She employed her iciest tone, and somehow, managed to sound reasonably calm.
“Isn’t it obvious?” His fingers were firm as he pushed her dress down, exposing her breasts. “You might have been working that night, but no one can fake the kind of pleasure you experienced.” He cupped her breasts with his hands, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. He felt her harsh intake of breath and knew she was trying to calm her raging senses. “You want me, and before the night is over, I will have you again.”
“No, you won’t,” she choked, but she moaned as he brought his mouth down to her neck and kissed the sensitive flesh where her pulse was beating like crazy.
“Better than reclaiming you, you will be begging me to take you.”
Maggie was in danger of doing just that now. A simple touch and her body seemed to go up in flames. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm her aching, throbbing body. “No,” she wailed, more to herself than him.
“You forget, mi dolor, I know what makes you fall into incantations of need. I know your body like I know my own. I know every little inch of you.”
“Why are you here?” She begged, trying not to cry out as he lowered a hand and once more lifted the hem of her dress.
“I came with someone.”
“Who?” It came out as a half-word, as he brought his palm to cup her most private centre.
“A model I also had meaningless sex with.” His words had been designed to hurt, but he could have no idea of just how they would make her stomach ache with envy.
Maggie tilted her head back and groaned as he pressed lightly but insistently against the cotton of her underpants. “Dante,” she whispered, lifting a hand and curling it around the back of his neck. “Dante,” she repeated, as he increased his speed and pressure.
And as he had done, that first night, he allowed himself to move one finger inside of her, to feel for himself her moist tightness. She bucked hard, grinding downwards, seeking and needing fulfilment.
He removed himself just before she came. He wasn’t ready to give her that pleasure. Yet. She had a lot of payment to make before he allowed her that release. “I think it’s time you told me your name, don’t you?”
Disappointment seared inside of her. She’d been so close. So desperate. Her body was aching with thwarted desire. “Maggie,” she husked, pulling her hand down and forming a fist by her side. “It’s Maggie.”
“I presume you have more than one name?”
She nodded, struck dumb by what was happening. “Maggie Carrington.”
“Well, Maggie Carrington, I suppose I should thank you.”
“Why?” She asked quietly, sanity returning.
“I was already plotting an excuse to get the hell out of here. Boring parties in the middle of nowhere are not my thing. But now… things are looking up. At least I have some entertainment for the weekend. I will come to your room tonight.”
She wanted to say something. She knew she should. But as she had been, the night they met, she was struck mute. Just as she had done then, she wanted him, and no amount of self-berating could take that away. “I’m the second room to the right, upstairs.”
He opened the cupboard door, and now, she could see his face. Harsh, angular, with that scar she’d liked to run her tongue along. “Wait for me in your bed. Be naked. I have no patience for foreplay with you.”
