flagged two taxis.
‘We can’t share?’ she asked.
‘We get in one of those together now and you know we wouldn’t come back. I’ve got work I have to do.’
Eleven hours later, resentment-filled, she figured he’d done a lot of work. By the time she’d got home, showered, changed and returned to the office, he was already back there and concentrating. He hadn’t moved from his chair for hours. She knew because she’d gone into his office a few times—delivering more of the massive numbers of faxes and courier parcels, more wretched files—and he’d ignored her. Hadn’t even looked up, lost in a world of figures and transactions and tiny details.
And she hadn’t been able to concentrate on a thing—all jumpy and excited and impatient. Until the tiredness from the little amount of sleep had eaten her nerves and now she was grumpy and ready to stomp home alone because he hadn’t even said hello to her all day.
Worst of all, it was only just five o’clock. Theoretically she had another couple of hours to put in first. She glared at her computer screen and banged the buttons on the keyboard.
‘So.’ He suddenly leant across her desk. ‘Your place or mine?’
‘So smooth, Carter.’ She stabbed through another couple of keystrokes.
‘Just answer,’ he said roughly, putting his hand over hers. ‘I’m barely able to pull together two syllables I’m that strung out.’
She looked at his face and was grateful she was sitting down. No muscles could stay firm against the heat in his eyes. And the grip he had on her now was thrillingly tight. It made her feel a lot better about his distance all day and she dropped any idea of holding out for some grovelling.
‘Yours.’ She was glad he’d asked. If she went to his it meant she could leave when she needed to, not have to wait for him to decide to go from hers.
‘Then let’s go.’
‘Now?’
The taxi was already waiting and, even better, the trip was short. Her heart drummed faster than a dance-floor anthem and she concentrated on keeping her breathing quiet and even. He still had hold of her hand and as they rode the elevator up to his short-let serviced apartment he finally broke the silence.
‘You’re tired?’
Actually she was plotting how to handle him. She needed to take charge from the get-go—set the pattern for the evening—and she wanted him on fire as fast as possible.
He must have read her mind because he turned to her the moment he’d closed the door behind them. She melted against him and offered it all, pleased he was so hungry. She wanted him to be uncontrolled, to be in thrall. Passion was powerful and she wanted to succeed in hitting his pleasure high. She moved against him, dancing the way she knew best, her mouth open to his, her fingers working on his buttons—wanting him raw and hot.
But he laughed, low and pure. ‘Why are you in such a hurry?’
Because that way she could control it. She shrugged her shoulders and simply smiled, pressing close again.
But he, damn him, suddenly slowed right down. He swept his lips gently across her skin as his fingers so carefully freed buttons. Why was he taking so long to undress her? Hell, they didn’t even need to get undressed, he could just push her skirt up and pull her panties to the side—she was ready for him, she would ride hard for him—she badly wanted to feel him come.
Instead his hands drifted south and so did his mouth, gently caressing the skin he’d exposed. Until he was on his knees before her and sliding down the zip of her skirt. She twisted, her discomfort suddenly building, wanting to bring him back up, wanting her hands to be the ones taking the lead. But then his fingers slid higher and she flinched, the pleasure so sharp it was too much, and she couldn’t let the sudden rushing feeling swamp her.
Carter had gone completely still. Then he leaned back and looked up so he could see her face clearly as his hand gently brushed down the front of her thigh. ‘I want you to enjoy it.’
‘I will enjoy it,’ she answered softly. But she knew what he meant. He wanted to hear her scream his name.
He stood, his keen eyes catching the way she wriggled back the tiniest bit from him. He swallowed. ‘You don’t want me to go down on you?’
She nodded, glad she didn’t have to spell it out herself. ‘I don’t really like that … I … don’t feel comfortable.’
He looked thoughtful. ‘But you’ll go down on me?’
‘Oh, yeah, I like that.’
‘Well, that’s nice.’ His devil grin flickered. ‘But what turns you on most, Penny?’ He watched her steadily.
The heat intensified in her cheeks and she tried to shrug his question off. ‘Lots of things …’ she mumbled. ‘I like … lots of things …’
His head tilted a fraction to the left as he studied her. ‘Oh, my …’ His arms tightened, his body tensing too as he lanced right through her defences. ‘You fake it.’
Her mouth opened in horror but the gasp never eventuated. Instead the blush burned all the way down to her toes. She blinked rapidly but she couldn’t break away from his all-seeing stare. ‘I do enjoy sex,’ she said when she got her voice back. ‘I like it a lot. It feels good. But … it’s … it’s just the way I am.’
‘You always fake it?’ His eyes widened.
‘Sometimes it’s easier that way.’ She licked her lips—not as invitation, but because her mouth had gone Death Valley dry. ‘Guys like to feel like they’re …’
Carter rubbed his fingers across his forehead.
‘It’s not going to damage your ego or anything, is it?’ she asked, cringing at his obvious surprise. ‘You’d rather I faked it?’
Blunt as she’d been with him before, this was his kind of sledgehammer stuff and she was shaking inside. She was never this honest. But then no one else had ever called her on it either and she was shocked he’d twigged at all, let alone so quickly. The fact was, she did fake it. She had an amazing array of squeals to let the guy think she was there. The Sally chick who met Harry in that movie had nothing on her.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it. She did. She wanted it and she wanted Carter. The closeness was enough for her, feeling desired and making someone happy even for a few moments made her feel good too.
His gaze hadn’t left hers and surprisingly his smile had gone less devilish, more sweet. ‘My ego can handle you,’ he said. ‘So no faking. Total honesty. Deal?’
‘I want to be with you,’ she couldn’t help reassuring. ‘You turn me on, you know you do. But I just don’t …’
‘Get across the finish line.’
‘But I still enjoy the race.’
He actually laughed. ‘Don’t feel any pressure to perform for me, darling.’ He rested
