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She nodded. “Anytime. Just say the word. And I’m sure your family will come around. You haven’t made a wrong decision yet.” She slid to the edge of the counter, the nervousness of her movement betraying the tension between them. Tension that had been seething between them for days. Tension that had been occupying far too much of his head.
And suddenly, he didn’t want to avoid it anymore. He wanted to confront it, because he didn’t think it was going anywhere. If anything, it was only getting worse.
“Maybe,” he murmured, setting his gaze on hers, “you’d like to tell me why you ran away from me earlier. The car had barely come to a stop and you were hightailing it back to the pool house.”
Her ebony eyes widened. Darkened. “I wasn’t running away. I was tired.”
“And that’s why you did the same thing after dinner the other night...because you were tired? Because it seems to me, this attraction between us is clear. What we need to do is decide what to do about it.”
“Ignore it,” she said instantly. “I work for you, Cristiano. We need to keep a professional relationship.”
“You work for yourself,” he returned, eyeing the flash of heat that had consumed her creamy cheeks. “The only reason I stepped in in London was because you weren’t living up to the terms of your contract. Now that we have that out of the way, I think it’s time we faced this thing between us.”
“I don’t,” she said staunchly. “If we were smart, we would shut this down now. Get the sleep we both clearly need.”
But neither of them were that smart, clearly, or one of them would have moved. Put an end to the madness. And quite frankly, he was tired of fighting it. Couldn’t even, in this moment, as she stared at him with those big brown eyes, her chest moving too quickly up and down, betraying how very affected she was, remember why this wasn’t a good idea. Because surely it was not. Because it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like if he just reached out and touched her, something inside him would be alive again. Which was either his fatigued brain playing tricks on him, or a truth he wasn’t willing to admit. And he couldn’t, for the life of him, stop himself from taking a step closer.
“I would,” he said huskily, “because there is no question I need sleep. That this is, perhaps, not a good idea. But I’m afraid if I did, I would not be able to get this out of my head.”
Her eyes widened. Dark, decadent pools of temptation that beckoned him in. “Get what out of your head?”
“This,” he breathed, setting both hands on the counter to brace his arms on either side of her. Which only served to send the delicate floral scent of her perfume wafting through his head, intoxicating him on a whole other level. Because it was mixed withher—that irresistible, delectable, heady scent that was hers alone.
He stayed there, resisting the urge to move, waiting for a sign from her that she did not want this, because then he could have walked away.Wouldhave walked away. Waited for some glimpse of sanity from either of them. Instead, she tipped her head back, her silky hair falling over the bare skin of her shoulder, her dark eyes stormy. He was fairly sure she wasn’t breathing, or barely if she was, the pulse at the base of her throat throbbing in a sign he could not have missed.
It was all the invitation he needed. Shifting his weight to one hand, he reached up and set his thumb to the mad beat at the juncture of her neck and throat. Absorbed the frantic pulse that pounded there. It satisfied him in a way he could not begin to describe.
Sliding his fingers up to the curve of her jaw, he held her where he wanted her, bending his head to slide his mouth against the velvety surface of her cheek. Against the delicate curve of her mouth. She sucked in a breath as he took his time, exploring the contours of her mouth, learning every soft facet of her, every centimeter of her lush skin, the mouth of a siren, designed to drive a man wild. When he had prolonged the anticipation, when his name was a barely audible whisper on the air, ripped from her lips, he covered the vulnerable curve of her mouth with his.
Slow, deliberate,thorough, he explored every dip and valley of her mouth, satisfying every curiosity he’d ever had about what she felt like. What she tasted like. What it wouldbelike to touch her. And if he were being honest, the fantasies he’d indulged in far too frequently of late. When she lifted a delicate hand to tangle her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull and pulled him closer, her breath mingling with his, he deepened the kiss into a more sensual exploration, his fingers curving around her jaw to hold her still.
When she moaned, a low, needy sound that came from deep in her throat, it was an intoxicating admission that electrified him. Pulled him in deeper. Sliding his hands down to her hips, he pulled her closer, her lush, full bottom filling his palms. Which only intoxicated him further, because she was silky soft beneath his hands. Even better than he’d imagined.
Hotter, brighter, the kiss burned, until it was no longer enough to satisfy either of them. His hands guiding her closer to the edge of the counter, he slid his fingers underneath the straps of her camisole, any common sense he might have possessed dissipating on a surge of lust. He dragged the thin straps of the negligible piece of silk down, exposing the full, ripe curves of her breasts. Taut, perfectly shaped and rose-crested, she was jaw-droppingly beautiful. Temptation personified.
Liquid brown eyes met his for a hot, heart-stopping moment before he dipped his head and explored the voluptuous curve of her breast with his mouth. The velvety skin that heated beneath his touch. Cupping her in his hand, he absorbed the contrast of her creamy skin against his darker olive complexion, fascinated by the play of dark and light, before he lowered his head to take the rosy peak into his mouth. Her back arched, her hands planting into the marble counter behind her, as she gave herself up to his exploration. Which only inflamed him further.
A whisper of a breeze floating over them, the hot, sultry air a teasing caress across his skin, he took her deeper into the heat of his mouth. Sucked the rosy nub into a hard, sensitized peak, while he rolled her other nipple between his fingers. When he was satisfied he’d given her maximum pleasure, he devoted his attention to the other firm peak, the light scrape of his teeth across the engorged flesh pulling a low, thready sound from her throat that fired his blood.
Every ounce of his blood fled south, hardening him like rock. She was the sexiest, most responsive woman he’d ever touched. Voluptuous and perfect. Needing to have her closer, driven to explore more of her perfect, silky skin, he ran his hands up the insides of her whisper-soft thighs. Dipped his palms beneath the hem of her shorts and cupped her bottom in his hands, pulling her even closer. Held her there while he dropped his mouth back to hers and devoured her in a hot, all-consuming kiss that telegraphed his hunger for her.
He was burning up for her. Somehow it penetrated his lust-soaked brain that if they kept this up, they would be having sex on the counter, consummating this insanity between them, where anyone in the household could walk in on them at any moment. The utter lapse of rationality leached into his brain, as unwelcome as it was unbidden. “Jensen—” he murmured, dragging his mouth from hers. “I don’t think this is—”
Her hot, passion-soaked gaze was cloudy with desire as she struggled to understand his words. She blinked long, velvety lashes, her hands pressing against his chest to steady herself as she sought equilibrium. Liquid desire morphed into realization in those luminous, dark eyes. At what they had been about to do—ruddy color staining her cheeks. She went stiff beneath his hands, inhaling a visible breath. Then she pressed her palms harder against his chest to put distance between them.
“Jensen,” he said softly, reading the regret on her face.“Cara—”
Jensen slid off the counter and took an unsteady step backward. Pressed her fingers to her mouth. Whatwasshe doing? She had nearly given herself to Cristiano on the kitchen counter. Had been so caught up in him she’d literally thrown herself at him.Fallen into him. She wasn’t sure what was worse, her completely uninhibited response or the fact that he’d had the sense to put a stop to it and she hadn’t.
What had she been thinking?How had she stepped so completely across the line? She would blame it on the late-night hour, on the intimacy of the situation, but she couldn’t spin that lie even to herself. This had been building between them all week. He had simply made her go up in flames. Which was everything she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do with her reputation, with her career on the line.
“This was a mistake,” she bit out. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did,” he murmured, taking a step closer. “I think both of us knew it was inevitable. I wasn’t pushing you away, Jensen, I was instilling some rationality into the situation.”
Inevitable?Her reckless, careless side might agree with that assessment, but the sensible, cautionary side that needed to take precedence at the moment rejected that assessment wholeheartedly. He probably thought this was normal for her, seducing a man in his kitchen. That she’d left a list of castoffs around the globe—Mata Hari incarnate. When in reality, it couldn’t be further from the truth.
She hadn’t had a serious relationship since Daniel, who’d unceremoniously dumped her three years ago and broken her heart. Hadn’t dated anyone in Lord knew how long. Cristiano, however, had made it clear he’d bought into her headlines. And really, that wasn’t such a bad thing at this point, because the smartest thing to do would be to declare this the insanity it had been and forget it had ever happened.
