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He grabbed his suit jacket and put it on, and disappointment flared even though she’d already assumed they wouldn’t pick up where they’d left off.
He came towards her and her treacherous body prickled with heat. He looked suave and imperturbable again—as if ten short minutes ago he hadn’t had his face buried between her legs.
Her face flamed and she cursed mentally. She needed to control her thoughts. As Xavier seemed able to do. He’d obviously had no trouble diverting his mind from sex. Why did men compartmentalise so much better than women?
He kept coming and her pulse stumbled. Had there not been a wall of glass behind her she would have stepped backwards. She crossed her arms instead.
He slipped one hand around her waist.
Her eyes widened.
Then he raised her chin with his fingers and she blinked up at him—right before he planted a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth.
Her breath was bottled in her throat. Who would have thought the lips that before had scorched and devoured and subjugated could be so...gentle?
By the time his head lifted her knees had developed a serious wobble.
His gaze held hers. ‘Forgive me, but I must return to the office.’
Afraid her hands might roam where they shouldn’t if she fre
ed them, she kept her arms folded, which provided the added benefit of a safety barrier between his chest and her breasts.
Blast him, she thought churlishly. Why couldn’t he have said something arrogant and infuriating? Arrogant and infuriating she could deal with. But tender and apologetic...?
Not fair.
She turned her head to stare out of the window, because looking at the chiselled perfection of his face was not helping her to think straight. ‘Am I supposed to sit here and wait for you? Because if we’re done here I could still make that ferry sailing.’
He brought her chin back around, forcing her to look at him. ‘“Done”?’ His grey eyes gleamed. ‘I think we’re a long way from done—’ the hand on her back tugged her closer and she gasped at the feel of his erection through their clothing ‘—don’t you?’
Heat singed her cheeks. And other parts of her anatomy.
She scowled. ‘You said it was a mistake...kissing me,’ she reminded him. ‘You said it wouldn’t happen again.’
He looked unconcerned. ‘I was wrong. It happens once in a while,’ he added, so deadpan she thought he was serious—until she saw the infinitesimal twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Her heart knocked against her ribs at this unexpected glimpse of teasing humour. It wasn’t the first evidence she’d seen of a lighter side to Xavier, but coming now, on the heels of their intense sexual encounter, it threw her.
Was that his intent? To keep her off-balance? As a way to maintain the upper hand? Or was she being oversensitive now?
Drawing in a deep breath, she changed tack. ‘Am I a prisoner here?’
His eyes narrowed at that. His hand slid off her waist and she told herself she didn’t regret the loss of physical contact.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘I’m texting you the code for the elevator,’ he said, doing it as he spoke, ‘so you can come and go via the car park with privacy. If you prefer to stay in, you can relax here and no one will disturb you. There’s an outdoor terrace and a lap pool, and you’ll find the kitchen is stocked with essentials.’ He slid the phone back into his pocket and settled his gaze on her. ‘The answer to your question is no, Jordan. You are not a prisoner.’
She bit her lip. Her head spun as her brain desperately tried to make sense of what was happening here. What it meant. He’d not said it in so many words, but by providing her with unfettered access to and from the apartment he’d also given her the freedom to walk out and not return—yet he’d made it clear he didn’t want her to leave.
Why? So they could finish their ‘unfinished business’? Was this about sex? Just sex? And, if so, why was she not scandalised by the idea?
Because you want him.
She felt her face flush again. Frustrated, and more than a little confused, she tore her gaze from his and turned back to the window. She didn’t do casual sex. And that was what sex with Xavier would be. How could it be anything else? They lived on different sides of the world. She was just a tourist in his country. And, geography aside, he wasn’t someone she’d ever set her long-term sights on anyway. They’d already clashed over their differing views on love and marriage. Theirs would be a short, steamy affair—nothing more.
Perfect! That was what Ellie would have said if she was there. Oh, Jordan could just see her friend’s startling blue eyes glittering with glee. Do it, she’d say. Live a little. Life is short and unpredictable.
As trauma nurses, they both knew just how unpredictable life could be. How quickly and unexpectedly a life could end or change irreversibly. Jordan had lost her dad and her stepmom within four years of each other, and they’d both gone before their time. They’d had twelve wonderful years together, but they should have had longer.
