leaving here until you do.’
She gazed up at him with pained eyes. God, she had once loved this man so much, had been willing to do anything for him—except the one thing he had demanded of her, she remembered heavily. Roger had tried to warn her, when she first went out with Wolf, had told her that people of Wolf Thornton’s class lived by a different set of rules from them. Only she had been too much in love, even then, to want to listen to those warnings. It had been a reluctance she had paid for a long time after Wolf was completely out of her life!
He was so close to her now, the warmth of his breath gently stirring the wispy blond fringe of hair on her forehead, the smell of his aftershave, a light woodsy smell, along with that masculine smell that was pure Wolf, filling her senses, making further thought impossible for the moment.
Or resistance, as she felt herself being slowly drawn towards the hard strength of his chest, the long length of his legs already pressed against hers.
‘Cyn...!’ he groaned low in his throat, the sound almost primeval, his arms moving about her now like steel bands as he drew her into the seductive warmth of his body.
It was as if the years since Wolf last held her like this had never been, her lips parting instinctively for the depth of his kiss, the onslaught fierce and demanding, his lips grinding down on hers, his hands roving restlessly down the length of her spine before coming to rest possessively against her hips, holding her against the taut arousal of his own body.
Wolf wanted her! As much as he ever had, Cyn realised dazedly. But even as she knew the truth of that she felt her own quivering response to the now languid caress of his lips against hers, tasting her, the tip of his tongue brailling every centimetre of her lips before dipping fleetingly into the hot, moist cavern beneath. Again. And again. Those flickering caresses were driving her into a frenzy of need for something deeper, her legs felt weak as she clung to the broad strength of his shoulders, her fingers unknowingly digging into the hard flesh there.
She trembled against him as his lips left hers now to travel the length of her throat, moving moistly against the throbbing column there, and her breath caught in her throat, her head falling back weakly against her shoulders.
This couldn’t be happening, was totally wrong, she knew in her more sane moments, and yet there was no way she could bring a halt to these caresses. Her whole being was crying out in need for the only man she had ever wanted in this way.
Wolf raised his head slowly, looking down at her, his eyes flowing liquid gold now, a nerve pulsing against the full sensuality of his mouth, the warmth of his hands burning through the silky material of Cyn’s blouse as he still held her against him.
Her tongue flickered out to moisten lips that had gone suddenly dry at the passionate intensity of that amber gaze, her breath leaving her in a shuddering sigh as she saw the way Wolf’s eyes darkened at her unknowingly provocative movement. ‘Wolf, I—’ She broke off with a disbelieving groan as the telephone on her desk began to ring intrusively.
She didn’t want to answer the call; she wanted to find out what emotion, if any, had motivated Wolf into kissing her in the way that he had. The passionate intensity of his kisses had been unmistakable, as had been her own instinctive response. But even as she looked up at him, to form her question, he was pushing her away from him, a hard savagery to the lips that had moved against her so sensually only seconds earlier.
He moved away from her with abrupt movements. ‘Answer the damn thing!’ he instructed harshly, glaring. ‘After all,’ his mouth twisted, ‘it might be some poor bride wanting to run away from her wedding, and everything connected with it—including the bridegroom!’
Cyn’s cheeks flushed as she remembered her conversation with Rebecca Harcourt such a short time ago. If ever a bride looked poised to run, it had been her!
And if the Wolf Cyn had seen today—those kisses apart!—was the one Rebecca knew, then Cyn didn’t blame her for feeling that way!
She reached automatically for the telephone receiver, all the time her puzzled gaze resting on Wolf as he stood so remote across the room, staring out of the window down on to the street below now. The office was situated above a bakery in the small shopping precinct. There were some days when the smell of baking permeating from the shop below could drive Cyn wild with hunger, but, despite the fact that it was almost two-thirty and she hadn’t even had lunch yet, today was not one of those days! And she doubted that Wolf was actually seeing any of the shopping scene below him either. Unless he had grown more heartless than she had imagined—because she still felt like a quivering wreck after the kisses they had shared!
‘Hello, Cyn,’ greeted a warm, masculine voice after she had put the receiver up to her ear and given the name of the agency. ‘You shot off earlier before I had a chance to make definite plans to meet you for that dinner you promised me,’ he added reprovingly.
Gerald Harcourt! Cyn shot a self-conscious glance across the room at Wolf. Of all the people who could have called her now...!
As if becoming aware of her tension, Wolf slowly turned to look at her, that amber gaze deeply probing on her suddenly pale face. ‘What is it?’ He frowned suspiciously.
Cyn swallowed hard. This was awful, just awful! She didn’t know what to do.
‘Cyn?’ Gerald prompted with a puzzled voice as he received no response to his teasingly made statement. ‘Have I called at a bad time?’ he guessed astutely.
A bad time! It couldn’t have been any worse. She swallowed hard. ‘Not really,’ she lied. ‘And dinner would be lovely.’ She deliberately didn’t look at Wolf as she accepted the invitation; if she hadn’t accepted it, she would have just prolonged the conversation, and with Wolf in the room, his expression now thunderous, that was the last thing she wanted to do. ‘Could you pick me up at eight o’clock?’ she continued to speak briskly to Gerald. ‘There’s a rather good Italian restaurant quite near here we could go to. Unless you would rather not have pasta?’ Who cared whether or not he cared for pasta? She just wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible. Because if she didn’t, she had a feeling Wolf was going to explode!
‘Pasta sounds marvellous,’ Gerald agreed quickly, obviously pleased at his speedy success when he had surely been envisaging having to persuade her into accepting his invitation.
Cyn quickly gave him her address, all the time keeping a wary eye on Wolf, and ringing off as soon as she was able without appearing rude to Gerald.
Wolf hadn’t moved from his position in front of the window, and yet he seemed to have grown, become even more intimidating—if that were possible! Cyn stood beside her desk, her hands clasped self-consciously together in front of her, watching him warily. Both of them were silent, Cyn because she simply didn’t know what to say, Wolf, she was sure, because he had too much to say!
‘Gerald?’ he finally accused knowingly.
‘Yes,’ she replied unnecessarily; the flush that had instantly darkened her cheeks had been confirmation enough.
Wolf’s mouth tightened ominously. ‘And you’re having dinner with him tonight.’
Her chin rose in an instinctively defensive movement. ‘Yes,’ she abruptly acknowledged the statement.
He shook his head, his mouth turned back scornfully. ‘You asked me a short time ago what happened to me,’ he bit out derisively. ‘I can tell you in one word what happened to me, Cyn,’ he rasped harshly. ‘You happened
