“You heard me the first time. I wondered if you had time to make it to the bedroom or did Conte just take you against the wall before dessert?”
She ripped in her breath and clenched her fingers into tight fists. “I don’t screw other men or kiss them in public because I have more respect for our marriage than you do. And so does Michael.”
Her immediate defense of Conte made a tight ball of rage twist in the pit of his stomach like a bunch of poisonous snakes. “You let him paw you in front of my business associates.”
“You’re nuts! He was a perfect gentleman. Besides, you were all over Gabriella in a public parking lot!”
“That was different. I pushed her away.”
“Sure, after you stuck your tongue in her mouth. I’m done here.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Not yet.”
She blinked and stepped back. Then looked straight in his eyes and cracked the final whip. “I’m going to bed. You may be able to control who I don’t sleep with, but you don’t have any power over my fantasies.”
Her icy tone contradicted the mocking words pulsing in the air between them.
He broke.
Nick walked toward her with a steady slowness that made her back away for every footstep forward. Her back slammed against the wall when he reached her. Slowly, he splayed his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head. His body caged hers. His wide stance trapped her between his legs.
He bent over and directed his words right against her lips. “If you want sex so bad, all you have to do is ask.”
Her entire body stiffened. “I’m not interested in you.” The wildly beating pulse at her neck contradicted her words.
“Try again.”
“Go play your head games with Gabriella.”
“You want me. Why don’t you finally admit it?”
Fury spat from her in waves. “I don’t want you. I just want your money.”
He realized her ploy had worked before, but tonight he didn’t care.
He closed the distance another tight inch. Her br**sts pressed against his chest, and her ni**les were hard little points stabbing out of the scarlet material, begging to be freed. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her perfume swamped his senses. He grew hard, and her eyes widened as his full length throbbed against her leg in demand.
“I’m calling your bluff, baby.”
Pure shock registered on her face as he removed one hand from the wall to casually unbutton his shirt, slide off his tie, then grasp her chin with a firm grip.
“Prove it.”
He stamped his mouth over hers, not giving her a chance to think or back off or push him away. He invaded her mouth, plunging his tongue inside the slick, silky cave, then closed his lips around the wet flesh and sucked hard.
She grabbed for his shoulders, and made a little moan deep in her throat.
Then she exploded.
…
Alexa reached up and tangled her fingers into his hair, holding his head as she kissed him back and met demand with demand. Her hips rose up to thrust against him, and his taste and smell invaded her like a drug.
Her skin burned as all the pent up desire she’d buried deep burst out of her body in a flood of heat. She was ravenous for his taste, for his hands to strip off her clothes and take her right there against the wall, and she reveled in his wild response that was so opposite his rigid control.
Control.
An alarm bell rang in her head and cut through the mist of sexual fog. He’d been drinking. If they were interrupted, he might calmly step away with a reasonable explanation to why sex would not be a good idea.
The knowledge he’d done it twice before skated along the edges of her mind, until she dragged her mouth from his and yanked the hair at the nape of his neck.
His head shot up. He blinked as if coming to from a long sleep, and she caught the question held in his eyes. Alexa made herself say the one thing she didn’t want to say.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
She held her breath and waited for him to step back, waited for the fog to clear from his mind, waited for him to agree. She got her second shock of the night when he smiled down at her—a dangerous, masculine smile that promised unspoken pleasures and raw, hungry sex.
“I don’t care.”
He easily tossed her over his shoulder as if she were a china doll instead of an Amazon. With an easy grace, he climbed the stairs and headed straight for her room. Her br**sts bounced against his back and her belly was crushed against the hard bone of his shoulder, but she couldn’t dredge up any words to inform him this was ancient caveman behavior and no longer acceptable.
Because Alexa loved every moment.
He tossed her on the bed and finished his strip tease. Unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor. Slid the belt buckle from the loops and lowered the zipper. Kicked off his pants in one swift motion. All of this was done as she sprawled in the center of the bed and stared at him as if he were her own private Chippendale dancer.
Nope, he was even better.
All lean sinewy muscle and gilded blond hair. Trim hips and hard thighs and an erection that stood proudly between his legs, hidden from view by a pair of black briefs. Her fingers curled into her palms as her fantasy joined her on the bed and settled against her.
“Your turn.” His voice scraped like sandpaper over her ears, one side rough, the other smooth. He reached behind her and slid the zipper down. Her muscles trembled as his hands settled over the spaghetti straps of her dress and stopped. Her breath hitched as seconds beat past, and the heavy weight of his palm pressed against the top of her br**sts. Her heart pounded so loud she knew he heard it. Anticipation cranked hard between them until she battled a scream, and then he hooked his index finger underneath the strap and pulled it down.
Oh, God.
Cool air rushed over her skin, but his gaze scorched as he drank in the flesh revealed. Her ni**les hardened into points as the silk caught briefly, then continued on its path. He gently maneuvered her arms out of the holes, then moved the fabric even lower, exposing her belly and hips. He stopped and studied every inch of her nakedness with a silent intensity that unnerved her, until she longed to say something but the words died in her throat.
His hands settled on her hips. He grasped the delicate fabric at both sides and began to work it down over her thighs, calves, then tore it away from her sandals and tossed the dress to the floor.
Their breath rose and fell together in an uneven, choppy rhythm. Liquid heat pulsed and pounded between her thighs, masked by the scrap of red panties she had pulled on with no one in mind but herself. But now Nick focused his attention in that direction, still saying nothing, studying the apex of her thighs, his thumb lightly brushing the line of her panties as she sucked in her breath and waited. As if he had all the time in the world, he began to play with the elastic band as if testing its strength. Alexa’s entire focus shrank to those five fingers and the slow torture they bestowed. He explored the crease at her thighs, then traced an invisible line down the center of her body. He watched every reaction in silence, as if she were his love slave and he was a king used to obedience.