big of you,’ Freya muttered bitterly, ‘but you’re too late, Zac. It’s a pity you didn’t believe me two years ago—when I needed you. Instead you almost destroyed me with your distrust, and, to be frank, I wouldn’t come back to you if you were the last man on the planet.’
His slow smile disarmed her and she missed the warning gleam of battle in his eyes. ‘We’ll see, shall we?’ he said softly, tightening his arm around her until her face was pressed against his chest.
‘Let go of me, you…brute.’ She hammered her fists on his shoulders, like a wild bird frantically beating its wings against the bars of a cage, but he ignored her blows and threaded his other hand through her hair, tilting her face to his. The scorching heat in his gaze sent a quiver of excitement through her and she gave a silent groan of despair. How could she fight him when this was the only place she wanted to be? Clutching the remnants of her pride, she tried to turn her head, but lean fingers held her chin as he angled her mouth to his satisfaction before claiming it with his own in a searing kiss that drove all thoughts of resistance from her mind.
His tongue explored the contours of her lips, stroking, caressing, until he judged the moment she relaxed her guard and thrust into the moist warmth of her mouth in a flagrantly erotic gesture. Freya felt the drugging sweetness of desire flood through her veins, leaving her limp and boneless with longing. Her fists unfurled and she laid her hands flat against his chest, feeling the erratic thud of his heart beneath her fingertips.
‘Last night was a mistake. We can’t simply take up where we left off two years ago,’ she protested when he eased the pressure of his mouth and traced her swollen lips with the tip of his tongue. ‘Too much has happened, Zac. You hurt me so badly,’ she whispered as she relived the agony of his rejection and the countless nights when she had cried herself to sleep. She was appalled by her weakness—how could she be such a pushover? He was probably congratulating himself that he had demolished her resistance with one kiss, but when she stared into his eyes and saw the undisguised hunger flare in his blue depths she felt a heady sense of elation. He felt it too, this pagan drumbeat of desire that pounded in her veins until she was conscious of nothing but the desperate, overwhelming need to surrender her soul to passion.
‘Then let me try to make amends,’ he growled against her throat. ‘Let me remind you of how good it was between us and show you how good it can be again. We always communicated better without words, chérie.’ He slid his hands down and curled them possessively around her buttocks, drawing her up against him so that her pelvis was in direct contact with the throbbing force of his arousal.
Freya gasped and he captured the faint sound, grinding his lips on hers with a primitive passion that whipped her senses into a feverish state of anticipation. She was on fire for him and nothing else mattered—not the past and all the pain he’d caused her and not the future and all its uncertainties. She wanted him now, the only man she had ever loved, and when he lifted her into his arms she clung to him, her fingers tearing at his shirt buttons until she was able to part the material and run her hands over the dark hairs that covered his chest.
Zac cleared the surface of his desk with one sweep of his arm before laying her down on the polished wood and immediately covering her body with his own. He deftly removed her blouse and muttered his satisfaction that she wasn’t wearing a bra, his voice hoarse as he bent his head and captured the tip of one pink nipple between his lips. The effect on Freya was electric and she arched her back so that her breasts thrust provocatively towards him, the taut, swollen peaks begging for his possession.
She was shaking—or was it him? she wondered feverishly as she pushed his shirt over his shoulders and ran her hands over his smooth, tanned skin. This was madness but they were both caught up in the conflagration that threatened to consume them in a flame of white-hot need. With a rough, almost violent movement he grabbed the hem of her skirt and jerked it up to her waist before skimming his hand over the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.
‘Zac.’ His name escaped her lips as a plea rather than a protest. She lifted her hips and he dragged her knickers down before spreading her legs with a deliberate intent that made her tremble with anticipation. When he touched her she thrust against his hand and moaned when his skilful fingers slid into her and began to explore her with a thoroughness that made her clench her teeth as her pleasure built. Through heavy lids she watched his hand move to the zip of his trousers, no thought in her head other than that he should hurry before she died with the urgent need to feel the full length of him inside her.
‘You see, Freya, some things never change,’ he groaned as he came down on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows so that the rigid strength of his penis pushed intimately against her eager body. He slid his hand beneath her bottom to lift her towards him, but his words penetrated the haze of sexual heat surrounding her and she bunched her hands on his shoulders to hold him back.
Was it the element of satisfaction in his voice that she had capitulated so easily—yet again? Or was it his arrogant assumption that nothing had changed and she was still a slave to his touch, despite the way he had treated her? She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea swept over her—how could she be so stupid? Zac hadn’t changed—he said he believed that she hadn’t had an affair with Simon Brooks, but only because the DNA test proved that Aimee was his child. Two years ago he had been so ready to believe the worst of her and if other issues arose between them in the future she had no faith that he would trust her word above all else.
‘You’re wrong, Zac,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I’ve changed. I’m not the pathetic, lovesick girl I once was. You abandoned me when I needed you most, and I had to grow up fast. I won’t let you do this to me again,’ she muttered, tearing her gaze from him as she fought to control the dictates of her body that begged for her to surrender and accept his full possession. From somewhere she found the strength to push against his chest, but the glitter in his eyes warned her that she was too late. His body was primed and ready to take her, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he fought for control.
The discreet knock on the study door shattered the tension and the butler, Laurent’s, imperturbable tones sounded through the wood. ‘Madame Deverell has arrived and is waiting in the salon.’
Hysterical laughter bubbled in Freya’s throat. ‘Madame? You have a wife?’
‘Non, I have a mother—who has impeccable timing,’ Zac replied sardonically as he rolled off her and snatched up his shirt, muttering a string of profanities beneath his breath. ‘But the very fact that you believe I could be married does not say much about your opinion of me, chérie.’
‘It’s an opinion I formed during the time I’ve spent struggling to bring up our child,’ Freya bit back sharply. She couldn’t imagine what he must think of her when she was semi-naked and spread-eagled across his desk. Scarlet-cheeked, she tugged her skirt down and hopped inelegantly from foot to foot trying to pull her knickers on, praying that Zac’s mother wouldn’t walk in. She’d suffered enough humiliation to last her a lifetime—much of it self-induced, she thought miserably as she recalled her shameless response to him. One thing was clear: she dared not trust herself to be near him for another day. He could deal with his mother and explain why his elegant bachelor pad was littered with toys and teddies, while she collected Aimee and made her escape.
‘I’ll go and speak to my mother while you tidy yourself up,’ he said tersely, his expression unfathomable as he inspected her dishevelled appearance and hot face. He on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber and had obviously had no difficulty in bringing his desire under control. Any minute now and he would pop a couple of bank notes down her blouse in payment for services rendered, Freya thought furiously, shrivelling beneath his look of haughty disdain. She held her breath until he left the room, and as soon as he had gone raced around his desk and searched for the passports. Flights back
