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He was still stroking her scalp and Carly knew she should pull away before it was too late. So why didn’t she? Because she liked his fingers in her hair and his black eyes looking at her like that? Or because all those feelings she’d thought were dead were now flickering to life inside her, and she was afraid to move in case they disappeared again?
Their eyes met and held.
‘We can’t,’ she said again, more desperately this time.
‘Stop fighting it. We can do any damned thing we like,’ he said harshly as he pulled her face towards his.
But unlike his words, his kiss was soft. Soft and insistent and innocent enough to make her relax, until she felt her lips parting through no conscious effort of her own. She felt the flicker of his tongue against the roof of her mouth and, automatically, she coiled her arms around him, clinging to him with an eagerness which surprised her. She had watched him and wanted him for weeks and at last she was touching him.
And suddenly she was consumed by her need for him. The past became nothing but a desolate place which was retreating by the second. The present was here. Now. And she wanted to live every single second of it.
Did she make some kind of sound? Was that why he lifted his head to stare down at her with a gleam of pleasure in his black eyes? His mouth gave a flicker of a smile before he lowered his head towards hers again.
She didn’t know how long that second kiss lasted, only that it was underpinned with a new sense of purpose. He levered her up against the wall, pushing the flat of his hand above her head for support, while with the other he stroked her face. And not just her face. His fingers moved down over her neck, drawing tiny little lines along her collarbone, and she shivered in response. Next thing she knew, they were skating down over her breastbone and she moved her body restlessly. She heard him give a soft laugh as he pulled at the zip of her uniform dress. She felt that first little tug of resistance before he slid it down to her waist and the material parted easily, leaving her breasts to slide free.
She felt the rush of air which cooled her skin and heard his muffled murmur of appreciation as he drew away to look at her. He didn’t seem to notice her functional bra—nor to care that it was chosen with support rather than frivolity in mind. There was nothing but dark intensity on his face and a look in his eyes she’d never seen there before.
‘Perfecta,’ he uttered, cupping one breast in the palm of his hand, as if he was weighing it. His thumb flickered across one nipple and, despite the barrier of the bra, her puckered flesh tightened in a rush of pure pleasure.
‘Oh!’ she gasped.
‘Still think we “can’t”?’ he mocked.
She couldn’t think of anything except the way he was making her feel. His hand had slithered down to her dress and he was rucking it up. Her body felt hot. Her skin was suddenly too tight for her body and her pounding heart too big for her chest. She closed her eyes, hardly daring to breathe for fear that he would come to his senses, and stop.
But he showed no signs of stopping. On the contrary, he was now pushing her towards the narrow massage bed, which lay like a sacrificial table at the centre of the room, and she felt her bottom collide with the soft, leather surface. Instinctively, she dug her fingers into his neck, terrified that she was going to slip to the floor and take him with her and shatter all the sensual magic. Momentarily, his mouth curved into a hard smile.
‘Relax,’ he murmured. ‘I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think I was capable of following through.’
The sexual boast broke into the sweet fug of desire which had descended on her and the magic began to dissolve in a way which was chillingly familiar. Her body went from heated need to icy revulsion in one sobering second. Only this time she wasn’t with some sleaze of a guy at a party, who was still smarting with rage at another woman’s rejection. This was Luis.
Luis her boss.
Luis who bedded actresses and supermodels.
What was she doing?
Panic swept into her mind like the dark beat of flapping wings. With all the detachment which her scientific brain was capable of, she pictured the scene as others might see it. As Simone might see if she walked into the massage room. Carly with her uniform open to the waist—her breasts hanging out and her legs parted. And her billionaire boss with his hand up her skirt, eager to slake his frustration on the most accommodating woman to hand. Despite her lacklustre looks and lowly job, he had decided that he wanted to have sex with someone as unlikely as her. Someone who just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
Or the wrong time.
Appalled at herself, she pushed at his chest with the flat of her hand. ‘No!’ she said.
Perhaps he thought she was playing a game. As if she had suddenly decided to adopt the role of tease, because he dipped his head to brush his lips o
ver hers. ‘Oh, Carly,’ he said, very softly. ‘Just shut up and kiss me again.’
But the kiss was no longer working. It no longer felt like magic. Her mind was playing tricks with her as she started to remember that other kiss. The forced entry of an alien tongue, and then...then... The blood in her veins was now so icy that it hurt.
‘No,’ she said again, splaying the flat of her hand over his chest.
And maybe this time he realised she meant it. That her words weren’t just the flutter of someone saying something because they felt they should. She could see surprise flickering over his face, as if nobody had ever stopped him before, and she wondered how she could have been so stupid.
Of course nobody had ever stopped him before.
She slid down from the massage bed but her fingers were shaking as she yanked the zip of her dress back up and tugged her skirt into place.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.
