Blackmailed Into Her Boss’s Bed. Sandra Marton
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Talia gritted her teeth. ‘I said—’
‘Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I told you to ask nicely.’
‘Dammit! Get up. Are you deaf?’
He laughed coolly. ‘I’m just not good at taking orders. I’ve been told it’s my major failing.’ The grasp on her wrists tightened. ‘Now ask politely if you want me to get off you.’
‘Damn you…’
He smiled. ‘Actually,’ he said softly, shifting his body against hers, ‘I’m rather comfortable where I am.’
Talia closed her eyes, then opened them again. He was watching her narrowly, the smile twisted across his mouth. She was a long way from the inn, she thought suddenly, and a chill raced along her spine.
She swallowed. ‘All right.’ Her voice was wooden. ‘Get up. Please.’
He hesitated. Then, in one fluid motion, he let go her wrists, rose to his feet, and held out his hand. Talia looked at it, then at him, and turned her face away. She got to her feet stiffly, wincing as she did.
The man moved quickly. His arm slid around her waist. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No. I’m fine, no thanks to you.’
She tried stepping away from him, but his arm tightened around her. The smell of salt and musk came again, and she realised suddenly that it was him she was smelling, a sensual combination of sweat and some male essence that emanated from him.
‘Don’t be so bloody stubborn,’ he said. ‘Tell me what’s wrong. Is it your ankle?’
She shook her head. ‘I—I don’t think so, no. I just broke my heel, that’s all.’ Her eyes met his and she saw once again that dark intensity that she’d seen that afternoon. Her breath caught. ‘Let go of me.’ She waited a moment, then swallowed. ‘Please.’
‘I’ll help you back to the inn,’ he said. ‘Lean on me.’
His arm curved around her, moulding her to the muscular strength of his body. He was wearing the same T-shirt and shorts she’d seen him in earlier; both were soaked and clung to him like a second skin. She stumbled as he drew her to him; when she reached out to steady herself, her hand fell on his arm. His skin was warm and damp, taut under her fingers, the muscles beneath hard and powerful. Talia’s pulse leaped crazily, and she pulled back as if she’d touched her hand to a hot stove.
‘No.’ Her voice sounded ragged, and she swallowed. ‘No,’ she repeated, more evenly this time. ‘I’m fine. If you’d just—’
‘What are you going to do, walk back barefoot? Dammit, let me help you.’
Suddenly, his very nearness seemed to overwhelm her. There was a strange constriction in her chest; her head was reeling. In all her carefully ordered life, she had never felt the confusion this man seemed to inspire. ‘Just get your hands off me,’ she said. ‘Do you hear me? I swear, if you don’t…’
He grew very still. ‘If I don’t?’
Talia swallowed. ‘I’ll—I’ll report you. I’ll—I’ll…’
The man clasped her by the shoulders and forced her to face him. ‘I saw the way you looked at me today,’ he said softly. ‘You liked what you saw, Miss Roberts. But you were damned determined not to admit it.’
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘You flatter yourself.’
He laughed. ‘Do I?’
In the second before he kissed her, Talia knew what he was going to do. But there was no time to stop him—he pulled her into his arms with a speed that took her breath away. One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back, while the other cupped her chin.
‘No.’ Panic turned her voice thready. ‘Don’t—’
His mouth silenced her. Talia raised her hands and slammed them against his chest, but he only shifted her more closely against him, imprisoning her with his strength. His mouth moved on hers, hard and deliberate, and gradually he forced her lips to open to the demand of his. His kiss became an invasion of her senses: she tasted his heat, felt the mockery of passion his tongue made as it sought hers.
The assault of his embrace flamed through her, scorching a path the length of her body. Talia grew still in the stranger’s arms; her lashes fell to her cheeks as a strange lethargy spread through her. She swayed in his arms and he murmured something incomprehensible against her mouth, his kiss gentling, deepening.
His hand slid to her waist, and she felt the light press of his fingers just beneath her breast. For a tick of eternity, she felt abandoned by time and reality. A nameless fear welled within her, more of herself than of him.
With a sob of desperation, Talia pushed hard against his chest and twisted free of his embrace.
‘Are you always this brave,’ she said, after her heart had stopped racing, ‘or is it because I’m a woman that you think you can take what you want?’
He laughed. ‘If you mean do I always get what I want, the answer is yes.’
His voice was harsh, his tone contemptuous, and Talia thought she’d never hated anyone as she hated him. Anger fuelled her courage. ‘Then this will be the first time you don’t.’
‘There’s always a way, Talia.’ His eyes were cool as they moved over her. ‘Haven’t I just proved that?’
Her hand was a blur as it rose between them, but he was faster. He caught her wrist before she could strike him, his fingers curving tightly around the slender bones, and she drew a sharp breath.
‘Let go of me. Do you hear me? I—’
Laughter drifted towards them. There was the sound of feet scuffling on the gravel path, and suddenly a young couple stepped into the redwood grove. Talia recognised the boy—he was one of the servers she’d hired, and from the way she was dressed the girl was, too.
The couple’s laughter faded and they stood staring at Talia and the man. The little tableau remained still and silent and then, suddenly, he let go of Talia’s hand and stepped back.
‘Until we meet again, Talia,’ he said softly, and then he turned to the boy. ‘Help Miss Roberts to the inn. She’s had an accident.’
The couple sprang apart, the boy moving quickly to Talia’s side. ‘Yes, sir.’
Talia shook her head. ‘I’m fine. It’s only my shoe. I…’
Her words trailed away as the man turned and began running easily down the path. ‘Sir’, the boy had said, the word taut with deference. A little while before, it would have seemed ludicrous that anyone would address a man wearing T-shirt, frayed shorts and scuffed running shoes with such respect. But the stranger’s tone and bearing had suddenly commanded it. ‘Until we meet again,’ he’d said.
The breath caught in Talia’s throat. Suddenly, she knew beyond doubt that they would.