Читать книгу A Dream Christmas - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 15

‘WHAT ARE YOU DO—?’ Max barely had time to gasp his surprise before the fingers on both of his hands were bent back painfully and he suddenly found himself flat on his back on the kitchen floor, with Sophie looming menacingly above him as she lay across his chest and twisted his wrists to hold his hands above his head. ‘Are you insane?’ He stared up at her incredulously.

‘Getting there, I think,’ she acknowledged as she spoke between gritted teeth, at the same time implying that he was the one driving her there.

Now that he was over the initial shock, this situation had tipped over into the realms of hilarious, if Max thought about it. And, at this precise moment, it seemed that he had all the time in the world to do exactly that.

Not that he couldn’t have released himself if he had wanted to, dislodging Sophie from on top of him. Because he certainly could have. As a fourth dan to Sophie’s first, he could have done that quite easily. He just chose not to do so for the moment.

There was something extremely arousing about having Sophie throw him to the floor before lying on top of him like this. In a position of dominance, her face only inches from his and flushed from her exertions, her eyes glittered down at him darkly in warning. So much so that the blood was pounding hotly through Max’s veins, making him uncomfortably aware of the increasing heat of his desire for the woman positioned above him.

A woman whom he sensed was becoming as aroused as he was, noting her nipples hardening against him and the heat deepening between her thighs, the fullness of her lips parting invitingly as she breathed heavily.

A woman who was already involved with, and had admitted living with, another man.

Max eyes narrowed. ‘Exactly what is Henry to you?’

Sophie was thrown by the unexpected question. ‘I don’t see what …’

‘Do you share a bed with him?’

She instantly thought of the way Henry had tried to sneak up onto her bed to sleep last night—something strictly forbidden by Sally, spoilt pet or otherwise. ‘No,’ she answered honestly.

‘Have sex with him?’

‘No!’ She gasped her answer this time, compelled to make the denial even though she knew it was really none of Max’s business, even if Henry had been the man he thought rather than her cousin’s cat.

‘But the two of you do live together?’ It was obvious from Max’s disgusted tone that if the two of them had been living together then they would definitely be sharing a bed and having sex.

‘Only because it’s convenient for a couple of weeks,’ she admitted reluctantly.

‘So the two of you aren’t romantically involved?’

‘I’m not—’

‘Would you say he’s a friend rather than a boyfriend?’ he persisted.

She eyed him warily now. ‘Max …’

‘Answer the damned question.’ His eyes glittered as hard as the emeralds they resembled as he glared up at her.

Sophie returned that gaze rebelliously, even though she now seriously doubted the wisdom, or sanity, of her actions. Not only could this be extremely awkward if any of the Hilton family should walk in on them, but she had just manhandled Max Hamilton, the powerful billionaire, to his own kitchen floor before throwing herself on top of him.

A move which, sanity aside, should have put her in a position of power. It should make her the one in control of this volatile situation between the two of them. And yet Sophie knew from the dangerous glitter in Max’s eyes that she wasn’t either of those things. That it was Max who held all the power. And the control.

Because her traitorous body was enjoying their close proximity far too much, her breasts full and aching, her nipples engorged. As for the increase in the aching heat between her thighs …

‘Yes,’ she finally answered Max challengingly.

That dangerous glitter intensified in his eyes for several seconds before it was dampened down, controlled. ‘So last night you deliberately chose to let me continue to think that the two of you were lovers?’

‘I really don’t see …’

‘Oh, you’re going to see, Sophie,’ Max promised her grimly. ‘In just a few minutes you’re going to see just how dangerous it is to play those sorts of games with me.’

She gasped. ‘I wasn’t playing games.’

‘It’s far too late for protests now, Sophie,’ he bit out harshly.

‘Only just, from where I’m standing,’ drawled an amused voice from across the room.

Sophie’s face was stricken as she turned sharply to look at the woman now standing in the kitchen doorway. At Max’s sister, Janice Hilton, as she stood in the kitchen doorway.

Sophie was mortified to be caught in such an uncompromising position with her boss.

‘I came to see if you needed any help, Sophie,’ Janice continued lightly, her green eyes alight with the humour she was obviously fighting a losing battle to keep contained. ‘But obviously you have the situation well under control.’ She arched pointedly amused brows at the fact that Sophie had her brother pinned to the kitchen floor.

Sophie closed her eyes as she inwardly prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her.

A prayer that wasn’t answered, of course, because Max was still lying on the kitchen floor beneath her when she opened her eyes again, and Janice was now grinning her enjoyment of this situation as she continued to look down at the two of them.

Sophie couldn’t even glance in Max’s direction now, to see his reaction to his sister’s arrival in the kitchen. She continued to look at Janice instead as she quickly released Max before scrambling inelegantly to her feet.

‘I—This isn’t what it looked like.’

Her cheeks were ablaze with embarrassment, no doubt clashing dreadfully with the red of her hair.

‘I was just—I just …’ She stopped talking, chewing on her bottom lip, at a complete loss to know exactly what explanation to give for what she and Max had been doing a few minutes ago.

‘I’d be as interested as Janice to hear what it was you were just doing, Sophie.’ Max rose lithely to his feet to stand beside her, his anger of a few minutes ago having completely evaporated, replaced by humour at Sophie’s obvious embarrassment.

Not that he didn’t think for one minute that he wasn’t going to come in for his own share of questions from his little sister once the two of them were alone together. Still, it was worth it just to see the way Sophie was now squirming with discomfort.

Sophie turned to glare at him with angry brown eyes. ‘I believe we can do without your warped sense of humour right now, thank you very much.’

‘Need I remind you that you were the one who dragged me down onto the kitchen floor?’ Max mocked drily.

‘And it’s a pity I didn’t decide to knock you on the head at the same time,’ she snapped back.

‘She’s absolutely priceless, Max.’ His sister chortled her obvious enjoyment of the situation.

‘That’s one way of describing her, yes,’ Max answered his sister drily.

He wondered if anyone had ever spoken to him in the completely uninhibited way that Sophie always seemed to. Not for many years, if at all, he acknowledged. And yet he found that he liked Sophie’s blunt honesty, the way she felt absolutely no fear or hesitation in saying exactly what she thought, both to him and about him.

‘I—We had just discovered that we both practise ju-jitsu,’ Sophie put in desperately, ‘and I was demonstrating one of the moves I’ve just learnt to Max.’

‘Lame, Sophie. Very lame,’ he repeated mockingly. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind disappearing, Janice? Sophie and I still have a few more moves we need to discuss before dinner.’ He arched a pointed brow at his sister.

‘I don’t mind at all. But I should keep those “moves” to a minimum for now, if I were you,’ Janice advised, her eyes still openly laughing at them. ‘I doubt Amy would understand if she were to walk in and find that the two of you had recommenced making those moves together on the kitchen floor.’

‘Go,’ he bit out tersely, waiting until Janice had left before turning back to Sophie, his eyes narrowed. ‘We don’t have time for this right now, Sophie, but rest assured, this isn’t over,’ he warned her softly.

‘Oh, it most certainly is over,’ Sophie told him heatedly, knowing it should never have begun. That she should never have allowed Max to annoy her to the point she had physically attacked him.

‘I don’t think so.’ Max eyed her contemplatively. ‘What I do think is that you should stay here tonight, Sophie,’ he added huskily.

She gave him a startled look. ‘What? Why?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, public transport is going to be awful and you’ll be coming back here early tomorrow morning anyway, to prepare lunch. And there are certainly plenty of bedrooms here for you to choose from,’ he added ruefully.

It was Christmas Eve, and as yet Sophie had no idea how she was going to get home tonight, let alone to come back here in the morning; none of the trains and buses were running, and she doubted there would be a deluge of taxis running on Christmas Day either. If any.

But stay here for the night?

In Max Hamilton’s apartment?

She didn’t think so.

Besides which, Sophie had a distinct feeling that Max had already decided which bedroom, given the option, he would choose for her to stay in.

And then there was Henry to think of.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why the hell not?’

Her mouth firmed at the dismissal in his tone. ‘I have to go back to the flat tonight. Henry …’

‘Isn’t your lover. Or your boyfriend.’ Max’s eyes glittered darkly.

‘Neither are you,’ Sophie retorted heatedly.

And instantly wished that she hadn’t.

Max had held her a couple of times, had kissed and caressed her and she had wrestled him to the kitchen floor once, but that was the extent of their relationship. Max might give every impression of behaving like a jealous lover right now but, from those stories Sophie had read about him in the media over the years, he didn’t do the boyfriend thing. Ever. He did sometimes escort a lover, but never anything approaching the permanence of being called any woman’s boyfriend.

As the woman Cynthia had found out to her cost?

It was a distinct possibility.

Just as it was a distinct possibility—a certainty—that Sophie would never see Max again after Christmas.

‘I apologise for what happened just now.’ Sophie sighed wearily. ‘I’m just a little … Thank you for your offer of staying here for the night, but my answer has to be no. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I need to finish cooking dinner,’ she dismissed briskly, avoiding even looking at Max.

Max continued to look searchingly at Sophie as she turned to inspect the contents of the saucepan she had been stirring when he’d first entered the kitchen just a short time ago.

He easily noted the way her face had now paled. That weary droop to her shoulders. The slight trembling of her hand as she gave the contents of the saucepan a stir.

And knew that he should just leave this alone. Should just leave Sophie alone. That he was playing with fire. That desiring her, wanting to be with her, might just consume him. If it hadn’t already done so.

At the same time as he knew that he couldn’t leave this, that just the thought of Sophie returning to spend the rest of the evening with some other man, even one that she had acknowledged wasn’t her lover or her boyfriend, was going to keep him awake for most of the night again. Most? He knew from experience that it was going to be all night!

Which basically meant it wasn’t going to happen.