him in recovery, breathing hard like him, still overwhelmed by the tornado-like climax they’d shared. He cradled her for long moments, the after-play of his hands soothing her, keeping the devils at bay.
He picked her up again and carried her to the bathroom. Stood with her under the hot shower, soaping her back, massaging her shoulders. Invigorating was definitely the word for his showers. He aroused her again, slower this time, but no less passionately.
She slipped into the robe knowing she ought to be pulling clothes on instead. But the tiredness controlled her and she pushed the thoughts away, tried to turn the mute button on the doubts whispering at her. What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. You’re making a fool of yourself—he’ll make a fool of you… She pressed the mute button again. It worked that time. He bundled her up in a soft mohair blanket on the sofa, put a selection of books on the floor beside her and a jug of water. His ministrations were so tender and caring she was afraid to read the motive that lay behind them. No one had cared for her like this, not since her mother had died. Weakly she closed her eyes, blocking out the significance. Seconds later she fell asleep.
‘Lissa we need to talk.’ The sofa had sunk under his weight as soon as her eyes had opened.
‘No, we don’t, Rory.’
‘I think we do.’
‘No.’ She looked at him firmly. She didn’t want this, not now. She just wanted to feel. Just wanted to prolong the magic a little longer before she had to end it for her own protection.
His eyes were full of the unspoken. She allowed herself to indulge for a moment. But those doubts came rushing in. Was this going to be the talk where he made promises? Promises of the kind that Grant had made? As her mother’s boss had made to her? Insincere? Meaningless? She couldn’t trust him. After all, she barely knew him. The weak part of her rebelled—she did know him. She’d witnessed his integrity at work, his drive, his charm. She was in his apartment, for goodness’ sake, something that had never happened with Grant. There certainly was no sign of another woman’s presence in his life.
No. She had to believe this was just a brief moment. A fling. Once she went home, it would be over. She could never have a relationship like this in the office.
She knew he watched her intently as she thought. ‘Lissa…’
Unwilling to listen to what she thought would be lies and too afraid to take the chance they weren’t, she moved quickly to silence him, literally swallowing his words.
Later he went back to the kitchen, bringing her more soup. They ate leisurely and had each other for dessert.
At one point she woke, her body aching but sated. Her head rested on his thigh as he sat at one end of the sofa and she lay along it. Music softly played as he read. A great wave of tenderness bathed her. He was gorgeous. Such a generous lover. She wanted to do something just for him. She smiled a small secret smile. Who was she kidding? She wanted to do it for herself, while she could. She rolled over so she was facing into his body, his crotch in front of her. Before he could stop her she undid his jeans and freed him. He was rock-hard in seconds. She took him in a firm grip, squeezing slightly.
‘Lissa?’
She loved the husky note in his voice. She shushed him. ‘Just let me.’ She leaned forward and began her oral exploration. She heard his book thud on the floor. Then she was caught in her own pleasure of discovering him. She traced the ridge of him with her tongue, closed her eyes and breathed in his maleness. Nuzzling, stroking, she loved the pulsing she felt in response. Her awareness of her surroundings faded completely as she lost herself in the taste, feel and smell of him. With both hands she worked him, keeping him in place as she caressed and kissed and sucked, hot and hard.
‘Stop, stop, stop!’
She finally heard his cries. She glanced up at him.
‘I’m going to come,’ he panted.
She chuckled, her hands continuing to stroke. ‘That’s the whole point,’ and then lowered her lips again and sucked as she would her favourite lollipop. He pulsed and jerked and she revelled in the sound of his harsh groan as he gave her all he had. She loved the power of reducing him to merely a body capable of nothing but enjoying mindless pleasure, the power he had over her. A weekend of physical pleasure, that was all it was, all it could be—right?
Licking her lips, she looked up at him with a satisfied smile. ‘I’m sure it’s good for me.’
‘I know it’s good for me.’ His face was flushed and he breathed hard. ‘You’re going to give me a heart attack if you do that again.’
She pouted.
‘Just warn me next time so I can be ready,’ he explained.
‘You’re always ready.’ She slapped at his chest playfully. ‘That’s what I like about you.’
She yawned and stretched her toes. Turned again and resettled her head comfortably on his lap. Her eyes drifted shut. Warm and snug by the fire, cocooned in his arms, she’d never felt so content.
His amused voice seemed to come from miles away. ‘I thought I was supposed to be the one who rolled over and went to sleep.’
Chapter Seven
SHE kept the mute button on those damn alarm bells that kept trying to ring off in her head. As the day dragged into evening neither of them raised the subject of her going home, or work, or what was happening between them. After she’d stopped his attempt earlier it was as if they had an unspoken agreement to ignore it completely and just enjoy the now.
She knew she should leave, that staying meant it was only going to be harder tomorrow, but she was still so damn tired and it wasn’t just her body fighting fatigue, but her will as well. She just couldn’t deny it any more. Her desire for him was overwhelming. And now she had known the fulfilment of it she couldn’t seem to give it up. She just wanted to give into it over and over. One more night, she promised herself as he pulled her to him, just one more night. But the mute button was failing so she tried mental earmuffs. Ten seconds into his kiss she was in the clear, her mind latched onto one thing only.
The loud beeping of his alarm startled her.
‘Damn,’ he groaned. ‘I have to go.’ But he made no move to leave the bed; rather he proceeded to awaken her fully with his own playful style.
He wandered off to shower and, appalled, she felt the lethargy return. As she lay recovering she broached the subject she’d been ignoring for the last thirty-six hours.
‘I should go home and go to work.’ She said it as soon as he walked back into the room.
‘No. You’re still sick.’
She half drowned his reply as she hacked through another coughing fit. Holding his shirt, he looked at her with the most outrageous ‘I told you so’ smirk.
She sighed, her eyes watering. ‘I should at least be recovering at home. The fever has gone.’
‘No.’ The finality in his tone was unmistakable. No doubt about it. He was used to getting what he wanted. Getting used to having her. Trouble. Ignoring the fact that what he wanted from her was exactly what she wanted from him, she forced irritation to the fore.
