and wriggled, trying to move off him. But his hands held her too tightly, and all she managed was to grind her hips against his groin. And to rock the elevator again.
The cables creaked. But they held. The car was not going to tumble any farther down the shaft. She was not worried about dying anymore. Instead, she was worried about her reaction to Ronan Hall.
Instead of slowing down, her heart was beating even faster. Her skin was tingling and hot everywhere her body was in contact with his—which was pretty much everywhere. He was so muscular, so tall and broad.
And when she’d sucked in that breath, she’d inhaled his scent again; it filled her head. The way he would fill her...
His erection was so long and hard. Heat rushed straight to hrt core, making her hot and wet. For him?
No. It wasn’t possible. She could not be attracted to the man who had destroyed her reputation, and nearly her career and her life, as well.
“Let me go!” she demanded.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “We’re stuck in an elevator. So we might as well make the most of this opportunity.” The hand not clutching her hip slid up her back to her head, which he held in his palm while he pressed his mouth to hers.
As their lips connected, Muriel felt a jolt she wanted to attribute to shock. But she knew it was something else—something that had her nipples tightening and heat streaking to her core: lust.
He kissed her tentatively, at first, just skimming his lips across hers. Then she gasped at another jolt of desire, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth. His kiss was hot, passionate and wild.
And that was how it made Muriel feel: hot, passionate and wild. She didn’t want to desire this man, of all men. But he was so damn good-looking—not to mention muscular and skilled.
He was a master kisser—so good that he nearly made her come with just a kiss. But then he began to touch her, too, moving his hand from her hip up her side to cup a breast.
She sucked in a breath, which pushed her breast against his palm.
He gently squeezed, and her breath hissed out between their melded lips. And he groaned in response. He pulled back slightly and moved his hand to the buttons on her sweater, easily flicking them open.
She wore a camisole beneath the sweater. But it was one of her friend’s designs, so it was super sexy with bows holding it up at the shoulders. Once he’d pushed the sweater from her shoulders, he reached for one of those bows.
If he pulled it loose, the camisole would slip down, would reveal her breast for him to see and touch...
She wanted his hands on her. She wanted him.
But she couldn’t. Not really. Not after what he’d done to her—to her reputation, to her savings and to her sense of self-worth.
The only way she wanted Ronan Hall was...on his knees begging for her forgiveness. And she knew that wasn’t very damn likely to happen. Ever.
Not until she’d inflicted the same hell on him that he had put her through.
RONAN’S HEAD SNAPPED back with the force of her slap. But he only grinned. Even though his cheek was stinging, that kiss had been totally worth it. He could taste her still on his lips. She was so damn sweet.
How could she taste so sweet when she was such a hard and vicious woman? Yeah, he’d needed that slap to bring him to his senses before he did something stupid, like pull that bow loose on her shoulder.
What would she do if he did that? Slap him again? Seeing her without the camisole, that would undoubtedly be worth another slap, though. He could see her tightened nipples pushing against the thin silk. She wore nothing beneath that camisole but her honey-toned skin. He wanted to close his lips around one of those distended nipples and tug at it until she cried out and begged for more.
His fingers still on that bow, he toyed with the end of it. One tug was all it would take.
But then she smacked his hand away and shoved him back with her palm against his chest. “Don’t you dare!”
“Don’t dare me,” he advised her. He was the kid who would have stuck his tongue on the icy flagpole with the first dare. He wouldn’t have even needed to be double dared. He lifted his hand toward her shoulder again.
She jerked up her sweater and wrapped it tightly around herself, as if he would have forcibly undressed her. As if anyone would need to. On all those billboards and magazine covers, she wore barely more than her seductive smile. Usually just a few scraps of lace or silk.
“What game are you playing?” he asked her. She was not a modest woman, but she was a cunning one. Those forged documents proved that. “Game?” she asked, her husky voice pitched higher than usual with outrage. “You’re the one who kissed me.”
“You trapped us in this elevator and climbed all over me,” he pointed out. Was she trying to seduce him? Or just sexually tease him into madness?
“I fell on you,” she said. “And I did not trap you.”
He snorted. “I wasn’t the one playing with the control panel, punching in every damn floor before you stopped it entirely.”
“I stopped it,” she said, “because I wanted to stop you from harassing Bette anymore.”
“I’m not going to harass Bette,” he said. For one—Simon would kill him if he did. The guy was already furious with him over some things Ronan had said to her. Poor Simon had fallen hard for his mousy former assistant.
But then, maybe Bette wasn’t that mousy—to a guy who liked the sexy librarian type.
That wasn’t Ronan’s style. He didn’t want someone repressed. He wanted someone as wild and adventurous and as into sex as he was.
Muriel stepped in front of the elevator doors, as if she could stop him. “No. You’re not talking to Bette at all anymore.”
He didn’t want to talk to Bette. He didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted Muriel back in his arms, her body pressed to his. She was the one, the female who might finally match his appetites in the bedroom and wherever else they might dare to do it...
“We’re stuck here,” he reminded her. And as he said it, the elevator rocked and creaked.
And Muriel gasped and shot forward—straight into his arms.
“Did you fall again?” Ronan teased her. “I wouldn’t think a supermodel would be as clumsy as you are.”
Despite glaring at him, she remained in his arms with hers locked around his shoulders. “Didn’t you feel that? We’re falling again.”
“I’ve never fallen before,” he told her. “So I’m not about to fall now...” And especially not for a man-eater like Muriel Sanz.
Then he realized
