Jaci released her tightly bunched hands and flexed her fingers; for an intensely smart man, Ryan could be amazingly stupid. And Jaci was going to tell him so—no man was going to get away with dismissing her again. She didn’t care if he was her boss, or her fake boyfriend or her almost, albeit fake, fiancé. There was too much at stake: the film, her career and, most important right now, her pride.
Jaci rested her forehead against the oak-paneled interior of the elevator.
Unlike in her arguments with Clive, this time she would scream and shout. She’d do anything to be heard, dammit! And Ryan, that bossy, alpha, sexy sod, was going to get it with both barrels! Jaci had barely completed that thought when the elevator doors opened and she was looking into Ryan’s living room, which was filled with comfortable couches and huge artwork. He stood in front of the mantel, and despite her anger, Jaci felt the slap of attraction. How could she not since he looked so rough and tough in his white dress shirt that showed off the breadth of his shoulders, his pants perfectly tailored to show off his lean waist and hips, his long, muscled legs.
The top two buttons of the shirt were open and the ends of his bow tie lay against his chest, and she wanted her hands there, on his chest, under his shirt, feeling that warm, masculine skin.
Focus. She wasn’t here to have sex with him...but, dear God with all his angels and archangels, she wanted to. She wanted to as she wanted her heart to keep beating.
If she was a man at least she would have the excuse of thinking with the little head, but because she was a woman she was out of luck.
“What do you want, Jaci?” Ryan demanded, jamming his hands into his suit pockets.
You. I want you. So much.
Jaci shook her head to dislodge that thought. This wasn’t about a tumble, this was about the way he had treated her. Her third-grade teacher, Mrs. Joliet, was correct: Jacqueline is too easily distracted. Nothing, it seemed, had changed.
Jaci licked her lips.
“God, will you stop doing that?” Ryan demanded, his harsh voice cutting through the dense tension between him.
“What?” Jaci demanded, not having a clue what he was talking about. Her eyes widened as he stalked toward her, all fierce determination and easy grace, his eyes on her mouth.
“Licking your lips, biting your lip! That’s my job.” He grabbed her arms and jerked her up onto her toes. It was such a caveman-like action, but she couldn’t help the thrill she felt when her chest slammed into his and her nipples pushed into his chest. If she wasn’t such a sap she would be protesting about him treating her like a ditsy heroine in a romcom movie, but right now she didn’t care. She was pressed so close to him that a beam of light couldn’t pass through the space between them, and his mouth was covering hers.
And, God, then her world tipped over and flipped inside out. The kisses she’d shared with him before were a pale imitation of the passion she could taste on the tongue that swept inside her mouth, that she could feel in the hand that made a possessive sweep over her back, in the appreciative, low groans that she could hear in the back of his throat. In a small, rarely used part of her brain—the only cluster of brain cells that weren’t overwhelmed by this fantastically smoking-hot kiss—she was in awe of the fact that Ryan wanted her like this.
It almost seemed as if kissing her, touching her, was more important to him than breathing. Actually, Jaci agreed, breathing was highly overrated. Her hands drifted up his chest, skimmed the warm skin beneath the collar of his shirt and wound around the back of his strong neck, feeling his heat, his strength. Then his hand covered her breast and he rubbed his palm across her nipple and, together with feeling the steel pipe that was pressing into her stomach, those last few brain cells shut down.
Ryan jerked his head back and, when she met them, his light eyes glittered down at her. “So, we’re engaged, right?”
Jaci half shrugged. “Probably. At least we will be, in the eyes of the world, when the news breaks in a few hours.”
“Well, in that case...” Ryan bent his knees and ran his hands up the outside of her thighs, her dress billowing over his forearms. “It’s a damn good excuse to do this.”
Jaci gasped as he played with the lace tops of her garters, danced up and across her hip bone and slid down to cover her bare butt cheek.
“Garters and a thong. I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Ryan muttered, sliding his fingers under that thin cord.
Ryan sucked the soft spot where her jaw and neck met, and she whimpered in delight. “God, Ryan...is this a good idea?”