left him at all. If anything, it had only increased—as if the years in between had only sharpened his sensual hunger. Right now it was consuming him like a newly lit fire and when he looked at those cool, parted lips he wanted to lean across the table and crush them beneath his. To slide his hand beneath her dull little dress. To move his fingers against her heated flesh. To bring her to a disbelieving orgasm and then have her suck him sweetly to his own.
His mouth hardened.
So what was he planning to do about it?
‘You’re not eating, Jess,’ he said and he could hear how husky his voice sounded. He wondered if she was aware how heavy his groin felt, hidden by the snowy drapery of the tablecloth.
‘Neither are you.’ She pushed her plate away and nodded her head, as if she’d come to some kind of decision. ‘And I’m not surprised. This meal was a bad idea. Just because we’re going to work together doesn’t mean we have to eat together. I’m going back to my room. I’ll order something from Room Service.’
‘I’ll get the check and come with you.’
‘No, honestly. You don’t have to.’ She licked her lips and gave a forced kind of smile. ‘In fact, I’d much rather you didn’t.’
‘I insist.’
His silky determination silenced her and Jessica watched as he summoned the waiter and signed the check. She wondered if he cared how their behaviour must look to other people. Did the waiter consider it odd? Two people barely touching the amazing food or spectacular wine which had been placed before them. Two people sitting opposite one another, their bodies stiff and tense, looking as if they were engaged in some silent battle when in reality they were trying to ignore the sexual hunger still burning between them. She was aware of people watching as they weaved their way through the tables. The velvet-lined doors swung softly closed behind them, blotting out the faint chatter and low strains of music—and Jessica psyched herself up to say a dignified goodnight.
‘Thanks, Loukas.’
‘There’s nothing to thank me for. I’ll see you to your room.’
‘But—’
He cut across her objection before she’d had a chance to voice it. ‘Again, I insist.’
What else would he try to insist on? she wondered desperately as the elevator doors slid together, shutting out the rest of the world.
She tried to drag her gaze away from the chiselled perfection of his face. The elevator felt claustrophobic. Worse than that—it felt dangerous. There was no giant desk or restaurant table between them now, only a limited space so that he felt much too close, yet much too far. She could practically feel the heat radiating from his powerful body and the air seemed full of the scent which was so uniquely Loukas. She closed her eyes and breathed it in. A hint of citrus cut with spice, and underpinned with a raw and potent masculinity which took her straight back to the past. It filled her lungs, reminding her of all the pleasure he’d brought her. Reminding her of his hard kisses and soft kisses and all the in-between kisses. Of how he used to thrust so deep inside her. The first time, when it had hurt. And the second time, when it had felt as if she’d gone to heaven.
Could he hear the increased breathing, no matter how hard she tried to control it? Probably. His sense of hearing was acute—just like all his other senses. It was one of the things which had made him such a good bodyguard, as well as being such an amazing lover.
And suddenly Jessica found herself resenting the fact that he hadn’t so much as touched her. He hadn’t even done what anyone else in his position would have done—given her a cool kiss on either cheek when she’d walked into his office. No matter what he was feeling inside, that would have been the civilised thing to do.
But Loukas wasn’t civilised, was he? Beneath the exquisite suit and unmistakable veneer of wealth, he was still the same man he’d always been. Basic and primeval and oozing testosterone. But he wasn’t acting on it. He wasn’t acting out her vivid fantasy of playing the primitive male and pinning her up against the wall and just taking her, as he’d done so often in the past.
Did he guess what she was feeling—or wanting? Was that why he was looking at her with that infuriating half-smile on his lips, which was completely at odds with the hunger which had begun to spark like dark fire in the depths of that burning gaze?
She found herself praying they would reach her floor soon, yet part of her never wanted to get there. She wanted to stay here, trapped in this small moving box with him—just the two of them—until one of them cracked.
Did she give herself away?
Was there some small movement which indicated the struggle she was having with herself? She wondered if she’d wriggled slightly or whether something about her posture had indicated that her breath felt as if it were trapped in the upper part of her throat.
‘Oh,’ he said slowly, his words suddenly shattering the fraught silence, as if she had just said something which required an answer. ‘It’s like that, is it?’
And he reached out to cup her chin with his hand, drawing his thumb almost lazily over lips which had begun to tremble uncontrollably. The mere touch of him was electrifying, the effect of it so profound that her head jerked, like a puppet on a string. Jessica’s heart began to pound as he slipped the thumb inside her mouth and she couldn’t seem to stop him from doing it, even if she’d wanted to. Pavlov’s dog, she thought helplessly, aware that he was watching her, still with that infuriating half-smile on his face.
Her eyes had fluttered to a close as her lips closed round the thumb, and she wondered if that was to avoid the mockery in his eyes or because it meant she could pretend. Pretend that this was a normal interaction between a man and a woman, instead of one tainted with bitterness and regret. She felt him move the thumb very slightly—in and out, in and out—demonstrating a provocative mimicry of sex. Kiss me, she prayed silently as she sucked. Take some of this aching away and just kiss me.
‘Open your eyes, Jess.’
Reluctantly, her lashes fluttered open and she found herself meeting the hardness of his piercing black gaze.
‘Do you want me to kiss you?’ he questioned softly as he withdrew the thumb so slowly that she almost groaned.
Had he read her mind, or had she said the words out loud without realising? Reluctantly, she nodded her head in silent acquiescence.
‘Then ask me. Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it.’
The corresponding rush of resentment gave her a last-minute reprieve and she glared at him. You don’t have to do this, she told herself. You don’t have to do what he says. ‘Don’t play games with me, Loukas.’
‘I thought games were your speciality.’
‘Go to hell.’
And then he did kiss her, laughing a little as he pulled her against him—his hard body driving every objection clean from her mind. All she could think about was how strong he was, and how good it felt to be back in his arms. Within the circle of his powerful embrace she felt warm, like an ice cube which had started to melt. She felt safe. But that didn’t last long... And maybe that was the wrong description, because how could she possibly feel safe when his hands were sliding down over her breasts like that and making her moan with pleasure?
