He beckoned her out of the seat. She stood, wary eyes searching his face, her magnificent breasts rising up and down with her staggered breathing.
She chewed on her lip while her deep-green eyes dilated to black. Satisfaction flowed through him.
‘What...what do you want?’ She wrapped her arms around her waist, holding in her shudder of response, but he could see the peaks of her breasts standing to attention beneath her blouse.
Red, we both know you want me as much as I want you.
He let the cruel smile spread, damned if he was going to leave her with any pride. People had thought they were better than him his whole life. And he’d taken great pleasure in proving them wrong. She was no different from all the rest.
He leaned closer, close enough to take in a lungful of her tantalising scent—apples and earth and pure, unadulterated sin. The burgeoning erection hardened enough to brush against her belly and he heard her sharp intake of breath, felt the judder of reaction course through her body.
He shoved his fists into his pockets, determined not to touch, not to take. This time she was going to come to him.
‘I want you to show me what you’ve got,’ he whispered against her neck. ‘That’s worth a hundred grand of my money, Red.’
He straightened away from her.
Her expressive features tightened and resentment sparkled in her eyes, highlighting the shards of gold in the emerald green.
There she is.
His breath clogged his lungs and desire flared, crackling in the air between them like an electric force field. But, before he had a chance to register the jolt of excitement, she lifted her arms and grasped his shoulders.
Her fingernails trailed across his nape, sending arrows of sensation shooting through his spine, straight down to his groin. And then she lifted her face to his, offering herself with a boldness, a determination, that robbed him of breath before she rose up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in a defiant kiss.
Elemental need exploded like a firework display in his gut, and all thoughts of payback, of punishment, were obliterated by the furious juggernaut of desire too long denied.
Her lips opened on a staggered breath and he thrust his tongue deep, capturing each startled sob of her surrender. He yanked his clenched fists out of his pockets and grasped her hips to pull her vibrating body against the brutal ridge in his trousers. He ground the erection against her, each stroke of his tongue, each brush of his shaft, driving him closer to the edge.
His hands skimmed up her side and cradled her breasts. She bowed back and he dragged his mouth down to suckle the frantic beat in her neck. He fumbled with her blouse, giving a staggered groan as the buttons popped. Lifting the fragrant flesh free of its lacy prison, he traced the engorged peak with his lips but, as he trapped the swollen flesh against the roof of his mouth and suckled hard, she bucked in his arms and cried out—the shocked gasp one of pain, not pleasure.
What the...?
‘Ow!’
Her distress doused the fire and he released her so abruptly, she staggered backwards. He caught her elbow before she could fall over the armchair.
‘How...?’ he managed, his pulse thundering so hard in his ears he was struggling to hear, let alone think.
What had just happened? One minute they had been devouring each other, and then...
She tugged her arm free, her movements jerky, frantic, her eyes downcast, her body shaking with the same tremors wracking his own. He watched her gather the remnants of her blouse. The blouse he’d torn off her.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked, his voice raw.
How the hell had everything got out of control so quickly? He’d been ready to take her right here in his office. The point he’d been trying to make—which seemed petulant and pointless now—was instantly forgotten in the maelstrom of needs triggered by her glorious defiance and the touch of her lips on his.
She shook her head, but her chin remained tucked into her chest and he couldn’t see her face. She was still shaking, her knuckles whitening on the torn silk.
Guilt washed through him. He tucked his thumb under her chin and drew her face up to his. ‘Katherine, did I hurt you?’ he asked again.
Her eyes—that deep, vibrant emerald—were mossy with distress, but devoid of the accusation he had been expecting. ‘No,’ she murmured, the apologetic tone only confusing him more. ‘It’s just, I’m a lot more sensitive there.’
His gaze dipped to her full breasts now plumped up under her tightly folded arms. ‘Okay,’ he said, still trying to figure out where that cry of pain had come from.
‘Oh, God,’ she whispered, clasping her hand over her mouth. ‘Where’s the nearest toilet?’
Her features drew tight, a sheen of sweat popping out on her brow, her face turning grey beneath the impressive beard burn starting to appear on her cheeks.
‘What?’ he asked, the concern he’d tried to contain earlier expanding like a beach ball in his gut.
‘Your nearest toilet, Jack!’ Her voice rose in distress. ‘Where is it?’ she cried. ‘I’m going to throw up!’
He pointed to the office’s large en suite bathroom, shocked and confused now, as well as extremely turned on.
She shot out of the room so fast, an apple-scented breeze feathered across his face. Two seconds later, the sounds of violent retching echoed around the silent office.
What the hell is going on?
He walked across the carpeted floor, propped his shoulder against the door jamb, the beach ball expanding as he watched her bent over the toilet bowl, puking her guts up.
He supposed he ought to be offended, embarrassed even, that his lovemaking had made her violently ill. But he was still reeling from the sudden shift from incendiary lust to total disaster—and the feeling he’d just been kicked into another dimension without warning.
The erection finally deflated—mercifully.
Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised, given Katherine had a habit of bringing enough drama into his life to put a TV soap opera to shame. But, as he rinsed a face cloth out in the sink, confusion gave way to curiosity and concern. And a ton of unanswered questions bombarded him all at once.
Why had she come here? And, more importantly, why now? Because her motives didn’t seem nearly as straightforward as he’d assumed. If she was really an opportunist, an unscrupulous femme fatale prepared to sell her body to rescue her business, why hadn’t she agreed to become his mistress two months ago?
The gruesome retching finally subsided and she collapsed onto her bottom. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she didn’t just look tired, she looked shattered and fragile. In a way she never had before. Fragile, defensive and...guilty.
What did she have to feel guilty about?