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Or did he want more—as she so desperately wanted more from him—that touch, that fire…
She practised her airplane breathing to try to steady her pulse. Barely ten minutes into the drive he swung into a basement garage. As they got out of the car she saw him cast yet another sidelong glance at her. ‘The campaign is going to be great, Amanda. It just needs some fine tuning.’
He thought she was worrying about that?
The apartment complex was small but exclusive. He led her to the elevator and they shot up to the top floor.
‘Nice place.’ Wooden floors, wide windows, spectacular views. Equally spectacular paintings were highlighted on the walls with specially placed spotlights.
The furniture had sleek, clean lines and looked comfortable. But Amanda couldn’t sit, couldn’t stand still. She walked, one window to another, from one painting to the next—until she stopped in front of the biggest, hanging above the gas fire.
‘This is a beautiful painting.’ She studied the stark landscape drawing a kind of comfort from the barren hills.
‘You like it?’ He looked in from the kitchen to see the one she meant.
‘Very much.’ She nodded, turning and catching his smile.
‘Come into the kitchen,’ he said gently.
‘Said the spider to the fly,’ she muttered. But she followed—unable to refuse that subtle note in his invitation. Intimacy.
His head turned sharply and a broad grin stretched his face. ‘But who is the spider and who is the fly?’
Oh, like that wasn’t obvious? He laughed at her expression, she ignored him and wandered round the kitchen as he unloaded the groceries. He had nice appliances. Great espresso machine. A juicer of course. She paced. Looking, searching for something, anything to distract her from the excitement and adrenalin racing inside.
‘Amanda?’
‘Hmm?’
He sighed and suddenly swooped, picked her up easily and plonked her to sit on his kitchen bench.
Startled, she looked right into his face for the first time that day—reading the darkness burning in his eyes, seeing the tension in the sharpened angles of his jaw.
Her eyes widened and somehow everything slowed. Inside she shook with each powerful thump of her heart.
He did nothing. He said nothing. But so closely he scrutinised, his eyes reaching deep into hers, seeking something out. She didn’t know what he was hunting but she knew she couldn’t hide a thing. Because under his burning glare her mouth parted—she could feel the pulse in her lips as her blood sped, and from the depths of her belly came the curling licks of heat and desire.
She wanted him so badly.
His features flared but for a moment she was unsure if the brightening was driven by anger or desire.
His lips barely moved but his low mutter seared her skin. ‘I can’t resist you.’
Suddenly there was a scuffing sound, one thud, then another—she glanced to the side in time to see his shoes hit the floor by the fridge.
Snapping her gaze back to him, she saw his grin had returned as he undid his tie and tossed it over the far side of the bench. She sat absolutely still as he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, until finally she got her voice to work. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking off my clothes.’ He shrugged his shirt off. ‘It gets hot in the kitchen, you know.’
Oh, she knew. She released the breath she’d been holding for ever. But the relief was swallowed fast by the excitement as she burned up—fascinated by the body being revealed. His torso was incredible.
‘How come you have a tan?’ Smooth, lightly bronzed skin stretched over honed muscles.
‘Swimming. Surfing.’
‘But it’s winter.’
‘I go overseas.’
He had chocolate-brown nipples that she wanted to lick. Her own nipples were tight and sore. Never in her wildest fantasies had she imagined having him before her like this—she’d known he was strong, but she hadn’t guessed he’d have such definition.
‘Where do you go?’ Any conversation to stop her gawping and drooling.
‘Hawaii.’
There was no fat, his body all filled out with muscle and sinew and rippling strength. His hands had undone his belt. In a second he was stepping out of his trousers, sliding socks off at the same time. Then his fingers went to the waistband of his boxers.
‘You don’t think that could be dangerous in the kitchen?’ she croaked, a feeble attempt at a joke.
He just pushed them all the way down. And then he was there, bold, proud and big.
She blinked. Oh. No wonder it had hurt.
‘You think this is dangerous?’ he asked quietly.
She tried to look away from the beauty of him but she couldn’t. And yes, intimidated accurately described her feelings.
