“What if I don’t want to?” she asked. “I don’t even like you.”
A smile curved his lips. “You don’t have to like someone to want them.”
“I do.”
“Think about all the times I’ve messed with your plans, all the times my new computer system outsold your new computer system. And think about how badly you wanted to slap my face. Think of me interrupting your presentation. Now I want you to channel all that into your kiss. Do you understand?”
She was trembling. Honest to goodness, her lips were trembling. And her heart was about to burst through her chest.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “Think of how angry I make you. And then kiss me like it’s my punishment.” He let his finger drift to her bottom lip, traced the outline of her mouth.
His words shivered through her body, a spark that crackled along her veins. And he made her forget that she’d just tripped all over him on the dance floor. He made her forget about kisses that had hurt and bruised. He made her forget she was ridiculously inexperienced for a woman her age. He made her forget everything but the desire to follow his instructions exactly.
And he even made it feel like it was her idea.
Because she wanted it. Wanted this. How had he made her want it? She didn’t even care.
The entire ruse they were engaged in depended on the fact that the heat of passion that came from hate could easily be ignited into attraction. And right now, it felt so very true.
She put her hand on the back of his neck, her palm tingling as it came into contact with his skin. It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone. She just hoped she remembered how it went.
Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his and realized it didn’t matter if she remembered how to kiss, because this wasn’t anything like the other kisses she’d experienced.
She did think of him interrupting her presentation. Of the times he’d sent her asinine “memos” designed to taunt her with his success. And that, combined with the press of his lips against hers, built a fire in her blood that she was afraid might burn out of control.
She clung to him, her fingers laced through his hair, her hold firm. He braced himself, one hand on the wall behind him, his other arm moving to wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her up against his hard, muscular body.
He angled his head, deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding over hers. There was no way a photographer could see that. He was getting way too into character.
But she found she didn’t much care. Especially when she dipped her tongue into his mouth, tasted him, then bit down hard on his bottom lip. His punishment, as requested.
She most especially didn’t care when that move brought on a deep, feral growl that rumbled through his body, made his kiss intensify.
She arched into him, pressed her breasts against his chest. Until she couldn’t think anymore. Until everything, the anger, the confusion, the deception, dissolved into one big blur of desperation and passion that eclipsed everything else.
She felt the almost-unshakable urge to move her hands from his hair, down his shoulders, to his chest. Just to see what muscles like that would feel like beneath her palms. To know what it was like to touch a man who was so perfectly formed.
She didn’t, though. Mostly because she was afraid if she shifted their positions in any way, she would lose her grip on him and slowly sink down into a puddle.
When he lifted his head, she felt like she’d run a marathon, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to catch her breath.
“That,” he said, “should be sufficient. I think it will leave little doubt about our personal involvement. And I’m certain it’s been caught on camera.”
“Oh.” It was all she could say. Her brain had completely shorted out about the time he’d put his tongue in her mouth.
“And even better, it’s a completely appropriate time for us to leave, since we’ve just shown we have other things on our minds.”
“Right.”
“Everything okay?”
“Fine. It just seems like we just got here and…and I have to write a check.”
“We have work in the morning.”