as they stepped off the elevator onto her floor. When they’d been standing side by side, she’d been even more aware of his size, his imposing presence. She’d always considered herself average in height, but in three-inch heels she was still a good five or six inches shorter than him.
The grace of his movements, the sheer masculinity, was hypnotizing. This was a man who looked good and he knew it. Yet he managed not to come off as arrogant.
How did he do that?
Her hands itched to touch him, to unfasten the buttons of his shirt and explore the skin underneath. But she had to play this just right. She had to be subtle. He’d been a perfect gentleman in the lobby and while they rode up the twenty-two floors alone in the elevator. The only physical contact he’d made was to gently touch her elbow. Not that she’d expected him to ravage her in public.
Not that it wouldn’t have been exciting to know he was so taken he couldn’t resist her.
“I had a good time, too,” he said, flashing her a grin. “It’s refreshing to have a discussion with someone who doesn’t agree with everything I say.”
“You’re different than I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Truthfully? I expected you to be an arrogant male-chauvinist pig.”
He didn’t look offended. In fact, his smile widened. “You wouldn’t be the first person to accuse me of that. I understand that my philosophies can be tough to swallow for some people.”
“If it’s any consolation, I may not agree with your ideas, but I do respect them. It would be great if life really worked that way. Unfortunately, I know better.”
They reached her room and she dug in her purse for the key card, but her fingers didn’t seem to be working as well as usual. When she found it, he plucked it from her fingers and unlocked the door. He held it open and she stepped into her room, turning to him with every intention of inviting him in. Before she could get a word out, he’d backed her inside, shut the door and pulled her into his arms.
Chapter Two
Pressed up against the long, warm, solid length of Zack’s body, Miranda had no doubt of his attraction for her. The man was definitely turned on, and he was apparently big all over.
A lamp beside the bed shed soft light in the room and she could see the desire in his eyes. Her first instinct was to resist, to push him away. He had stepped in and taken control of a situation she’d intended to direct and she felt the tiniest bit apprehensive. But her body wouldn’t listen to her head. She didn’t know if it was the drinks making her fuzzy or the two hours of verbal foreplay blurring her good sense, but she trembled all over. She caught the hint of a subtle and clean-scented aftershave mixed with some familiar brand of soap, neither of which covered his own unique masculine scent.
She hadn’t expected this. She was the one who was supposed to be seducing him. She had to do something to win back the control.
“All I’ve been able to think about tonight was touching you,” he rasped, caressing her face. The move was gentle and firm at the same time. Then he kissed her—deep, intense and disarming—and she went limp with desire. He was a man on a mission. He knew what he wanted and wasn’t shy about taking it.
How could something so wrong feel so good? When it came to sex she was always the aggressor; she called the shots. This all seemed to be moving too fast, yet she didn’t make a move to stop him.
She didn’t want to stop him.
He kissed her mouth, her throat, tasting and nipping her skin, as if he wanted to devour every inch of her. He bit her earlobe hard enough to make her gasp with surprise and her body shudder in ecstasy.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it aside, but when she tried to unbutton his shirt he manacled her wrists and held them behind her, backing her against the door. A move like that would earn any other man a swift knee jerk to the crotch, but no other man had ever made her feel so willing to let go.
He trapped both of her wrists in one large hand and used the other to unfasten the buttons on her blouse. She probably could have broken loose, but at this point she didn’t want to be free.
He pushed her blouse off her shoulders. It slipped down her arms and caught on her wrists. She wasn’t exactly large-busted, but her breasts sat firm and high and were nicely shaped. With the exception of her ex-husband, who found fault with everything, she’d never heard a single complaint.
Considering the way Zack was looking at her, he wouldn’t be complaining, either. His assessing eyes burned her skin like hot coals. She’d worked damned hard for this body. She knew she looked good and he appeared to agree.
He lowered his head, biting her though the lacy fabric of her bra, blowing hot breath on her skin. She moaned and arched her back.
“I don’t do this,” he said, looking at her with an intensity that gave her chills. “I don’t have affairs with women I just met and hardly even know.”
“I don’t, either,” she admitted.
“I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you right now.”
Zack’s words filled her with a thrilling kind of satisfaction. But for all the wrong reasons. Reasons that had nothing to do with revenge. This was all about wanting Zack. Wanting him to ravage her. She would go so far as to say she needed him, but she didn’t need anyone.
He cupped the back of her thigh, dragging her skirt up, growling with pleasure when he realized she was wearing a garter belt. Since her divorce from a man who didn’t think sexy underwear was “appropriate,” she’d spent hundreds of dollars on all the racy things he had never let her wear. It was nice to meet someone who appreciated her taste.
Zack let go of her wrists and her blouse fell to the floor. He unzipped her skirt and smoothed it down her hips, leaving her in only a scandalously brief and sheer bra and thong set, a lace garter belt, black silk stockings and spike heels. She’d never felt so sexy in all her life.
He dropped to his knees in front of her and nuzzled his face against her bare stomach, his beard stubble abrading her skin, making her shiver. Every part of her felt alive with sexual awareness and heavy with lust. He nibbled her stomach, ran his tongue over the tiny gold hoop in her navel, gripping her hips in his big hands.
He tugged roughly on her thong and she heard it rip apart in his hands, but she was too excited to care that he’d ruined her favorite one. He could rip it all if that was what he wanted, if that would excite him even half as much as he’d excited her.
Her body felt shaky and weak, and she tunneled her fingers though his hair to hold herself steady. Her breath was coming faster, her anticipation mounting, and when he finally buried his face between her thighs she cried out. Her body arched, fingers tangled in his hair. Her knees gave out, but he caught her before she could fall and hooked her leg over his shoulder. She was on the verge of a cataclysmic explosion, the sparks sizzling ever closer to the end of her fuse.
When it reached her core, the explosions rocked through her. It was so good, so perfect, she wanted to cry. In her life no one had ever made her feel this way. It scared her half to death and thrilled her beyond belief.
She was too limp to even think twice as
