Читать книгу Kidnapped For The Tycoon's Baby - Louise Fuller - Страница 10
ОглавлениеFROM HIS OFFICE on the twenty-second floor, Ram stared steadily out of the window at the Pacific Ocean. The calm expression on his face in no way reflected the turmoil inside his head.
Something was wrong. He looked down at the file he was supposed to be reading and frowned. For starters, he was sleeping badly, and he had a near permanent headache. But worst of all he was suffering from a frustrating and completely uncharacteristic inability to focus on what was important to him. His business.
Or it had been important to him right up until the moment he’d walked into that backstreet café and met Nola Mason.
A prickling tension slid down his spine and his chest squeezed tighter.
Down in the bay, a yacht cut smoothly through the waves. But for once his eyes didn’t follow its progress. Instead it was the clear, sparkling blue of the water that drew his gaze.
His jaw tightened, pulling the skin across the high curves of his cheekbones.
Two months ago his life had been perfect. But one particular woman, whose eyes were the exact shade as the ocean, had turned that life upside down.
Nola.
He ran the syllables slowly over his tongue. Before he’d met her the name had simply been an acronym for New Orleans—or the Big Easy, as it was also known. His eyes narrowed. But any connection between Nola Mason and the city straddling the Mississippi ended there. Nola might be many things—sexy, smart and seriously good at her job. But she wasn’t easy. In fact she was unique among women in that she seemed utterly impervious to his charms.
Thinking back to their conversation in the boardroom, remembering the way she had stood up to him in front of the directors, he felt the same mix of frustration, admiration and desire that seemed to define every single contact he had with her.
It was a mix of feelings that was entirely new to him.
Normally women tripped over themselves to please him. They certainly never kept him at arm’s length, or spouted ‘workplace considerations’ as a reason for turning him down.
Turning him down! Even just thinking the words inside his head made him see every shade of red. Nobody had ever turned him down—in the boardroom or the bedroom.
He glanced down at the unread report, but there was no place to hide from the truth: despite the fact that his instincts were screaming at him to keep his distance, he couldn’t stop thinking about Nola and her refusal to sleep with him. Her stupid, logical, perfectly justified refusal to break the rules. Her rules.
He closed the file with a snap. His rules too.
And that was what was really driving him crazy. The fact that up until a couple of months ago he would have agreed with her. Workplace relationships were a poisoned chalice. They caused tension and upset. And not once had he ever been tempted to break those rules and sleep with an employee.
Only Nola Mason was not just a temptation.
She was a virus in his blood.
No. His mouth twisted. She was more like malware in his system, stealthily undermining his strength, his stability, his sanity.
But there was a cure.
His groin hardened.
He knew what it was, and so did she.
He’d seen it in the antagonism flickering in those blue eyes, heard it in the huskiness of her voice. And her resistance, her refusal to acknowledge it was merely fuelling his desire. His anticipation of the moment when finally she surrendered to him.
He tossed the file onto his desk, feeling a pulsing, breathless excitement scrabbling up inside him.
Of course, being Nola, she would offer a truce, not a surrender. Those eyes, that mouth, might suggest an uninhibited sensuality, but he sensed that the determined slant of her chin was not just a pose adopted for business but a reflection of how she behaved out of work and in bed.
Picturing Nola, her blue eyes narrowing into fierce slits as she straddled his naked body, he felt his spine melt into his chair. But truces could only happen if both parties came to the table—which was why he’d invited her to dinner. Not an intimate, candlelit tryst. He knew Nola, and she would have instantly rejected anything so blatant. But now she knew it was to be a business dinner at a crowded restaurant, she would relax—hell, they might even end up sharing a dessert.
His mouth curved up into a satisfied smile. Or, better still, they could save dessert until they got back to his penthouse.
* * *
So this was what it felt like to be famous, Nola thought as she walked self-consciously between the tables in the exclusive restaurant Ram had chosen. It was certainly an experience, although she wasn’t sure it was one she’d ever want to repeat.
The Wool Shed was the hottest dining ticket in town, but even though it was midweek, and the award-winning restaurant was packed, to her astonishment Ram hadn’t bothered to book. For any normal person that would have meant looking for somewhere else to eat. Clearly those rules didn’t apply to Ram Walker, for now, within seconds of his arrival, the maître d’ was leading them to a table with a view across the bay to the Opera House.
‘I think I may have told our guests that dinner was at eight, so it’s going to be just the two of us for a bit. Sorry about that.’
Nola stared at him warily. He didn’t sound sorry; he sounded completely unrepentant. Meeting his gaze, she saw that he didn’t look sorry either. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the uneasiness that was clearly written all over her face.
Sliding into the seat he’d pulled out, Nola breathed out carefully. ‘That’s fine. It’ll give you a chance to brief me on our mystery guests.’
She felt him smile behind her. ‘Of course—and don’t worry, your chaperones will arrive very soon. I promise.’
Gritting her teeth, she watched him drop gracefully into the chair beside her. At work it had been easy to tell herself that the tension between them was just some kind of personality clash or a battle of wills. Now, though, she could see that ever since she’d met Ram that first time, the battle had been raging inside her.
A battle between her brain and her body...between common sense and her basest carnal urges. And, much as she would have liked to deny it, or pretend it wasn’t true, the sexual pull between them was as real and tangible as the bottles of still and sparkling water on the table. So much so that only by pressing her fingers into the armrests of her chair could she stop herself from reaching out to touch the smooth curve of his jaw.
Her hand twitched. It was like trying to ignore a mosquito bite. The urge to scratch was overwhelming.
But surely walking into this restaurant with him was just what she’d needed to remind her why it was best not to give in to that urge—for Ram wasn’t just her boss. He was way out of her league.
In a room filled with beautiful people, he was the unashamed focus of every eye. As he’d strolled casually to their table conversations had dwindled and even the waiters had seemed to freeze; it had been as though everyone in the restaurant had taken a sort of communal breath.
And it was easy to see why.
Glancing up, she felt a jolt of hunger spike inside her.
There was something about him that commanded attention. Of course he looked amazing—each feature, from his long dark eyelashes to the tiny scar on his cheekbone, looked as though it had been lovingly executed by an artist. But it wasn’t just his dark, sculpted looks that tugged at the senses. He had a quality of certainty that was unique, compelling, irresistible.
He was the ultimate cool boy at school, she decided. And now he was sitting next to her, his arm resting casually over the back of her chair, the scent of his cologne making a dizzy heat spread over her skin.
Unable to stop herself, she glanced sideways and felt her breath catch in her throat.
He was just too ridiculously beautiful.
As though sensing her focus, he turned, and the air was punched out of her lungs as his dark grey gaze scanned her face.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘Are you going to tell me who we’re meeting?’ She tried to arrange her expression into that same mix of casual and professional that he projected so effortlessly. ‘Are they local?’
‘They’re a little bigger than just Australia. It’s Craig Aldin and Will Fraser. They own—’
‘A&F Freight,’ she finished his sentence. ‘That’s the—’
‘The biggest logistics company in the southern hemisphere.’
His eyes glittered as he in turn finished her sentence, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. ‘Maybe we should try ordering dinner this way. It would be like a new game: gastronomic consequences.’
She tried not to respond to that smile, but it was like trying to resist gravity.
‘It could be fun,’ she said cautiously. ‘Although we might end up with some challenging flavour combinations.’
His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Well, I’ve never been that vanilla in my tastes,’ he said softly.
Her heart banged against her ribs like a bird hitting a window. There it was again—that spark of danger and desire, her flint striking his steel.
But as he picked up the water bottle and filled her glass she bit her lip, felt a knot forming in her stomach. Flirting with Ram in this crowded restaurant might feel safe. Playing with fire, however, was never a good idea—and especially not with a man who was as experienced and careless with women as he was.
She needed to remember that the next time he made her breath jerk in her throat, but right now she needed to dampen that flame and steer the conversation back to work.
‘Is A&F looking to upgrade its system?’ she asked quickly, ignoring the mocking gleam in his eyes.
Ram stared at her for a moment and then shrugged.
It was the same every time. Back and forth. Gaining her trust, then losing it again. Like trying to stroke a feral cat. Just as he thought he was close enough to touch, she’d retreat. It was driving him mad.
He shifted in his seat, wishing he could shift the ache inside his body. If he couldn’t persuade her to relax soon he was going to do himself some permanent damage.
His eyes drifted lazily over her body. In that cream blouse, dark skirt and stockings, and with those blue eyes watching him warily across the table, she looked more like a sleek Siamese than the feisty street cat she’d been channelling in their meeting that morning.
‘Yes—and soon. That’s why I want you to meet with them today.’
As he put the bottle back on the table his hand brushed against hers, and suddenly she was struggling to remember what he’d just said, let alone figure out how to reply.
‘Thank you,’ she said finally.
His expression was neutral. ‘Of course it might mean coming back to Australia.’
Frowning, she looked into his face. ‘That won’t be a problem.’
‘Really? It’s just that you live on the other side of the world. I thought you might have somebody missing you. Someone significant.’
Nola blinked. How had they ended up talking about this? About her private life.
Ram Walker was too damn sharp for his own good. He made connections that were barely visible while she was still struggling to join the dots.
His gaze was so intense that suddenly she wanted to lift her hand and shield her face. But instead she thought about her flat, with its high ceilings and shabby old sofas. It was her home, and she loved it, but it wasn’t a somebody. Truthfully, there hadn’t been anyone in her life since Connor.
Her throat tightened. Connor—with his sweet face and his floppy hair. And his desire to be liked. A desire that had meant betraying her trust in the most humiliating way possible. He hadn’t quite matched up to her father’s level of unreliability, but then, he’d only been in her life a matter of months.
Of course since their break-up she hadn’t taken a vow of celibacy. She’d gone out with a couple of men on more than a couple of dates and they’d been pleasant enough. But none had been memorable, and right now the only significant living thing in her flat was a cactus called Colin.
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘Anna’s the home bird. I’ve no desire to tie myself down any time soon. I like my independence too much.’
Ram nodded. Letting his gaze wander over her face, he took in the flushed cheeks and the dilated pupils and felt a tug down low in his stomach. A pulse of heat flickered beneath his skin.
Independence. The word tasted sweet and dark and glossy in his mouth—like a cherry bursting against his tongue. At that moment, had he believed in soulmates, he would have thought he’d found his. For here was a woman who was not afraid to be herself. To stand alone in the world.
His heart was pounding. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone—anything. If only he could reach over and pull her against him, strip her naked and take her right here, right now—
But instead a waiter brought over some bread and, grateful for the nudge back to reality, Ram leaned back in his chair, trying to school his thoughts, his breathing, his body, into some sort of order.
‘She’s impressive, your partner,’ he said, when finally the waiter left them alone.
He watched her face soften, the blue eyes widen with affection, and suddenly he wondered how it would feel to be the object of that incredible gaze. For someone to care that much about him.
The idea made him feel strangely vulnerable and, picking up his glass, he downed his water so that it hit his stomach with a thump.
She nodded eagerly. ‘She was always top of the class.’
He nodded. ‘I can believe that. But I wasn’t talking about her tech skills. It’s her attitude that’s her real strength. She’s pragmatic; she understands the value of compromise. Whereas you...’
He paused, and Nola felt her skin tighten. That was Anna in a nutshell. But how could Ram know that? They’d only met once, when they’d signed the contracts.
And then her muscles tensed, her body squirming with nerves at what he might be about to reveal about her.
‘You, on the other hand, are a rebel.’
Reaching out, he ran his hand lightly over her sleeve and she felt a thrill like the jolt of electricity. This wasn’t like any conversation she’d ever had. It was more like a dance—a dazzling dance with quick, complicated steps that only they understood.
She swallowed. ‘What kind of rebel works for the system?’
Beneath the lights, his eyes gleamed like brushed steel. ‘You might look corporate on the outside, but if I scratched the surface I’d find a hacker beneath. Unlike your partner—unlike most people, really—you like to cross boundaries, take risks. You’re not motivated by money; you like the challenge.’
The hum of chatter and laughter faded around them and a pulse began to beat loudly inside her head. Reaching forward to pick up her glass, she cleared her throat with difficulty.
‘You’re making me sound a lot edgier than I am,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m actually just a “white hat”.’
‘Of course you are!’
Ram shifted in his seat, his thigh brushing against her leg so that her hand twitched around the stem of the glass. It was a gambler’s tell—a tiny, visible sign of the tension throbbing between them.
‘It’s not like I’d ever catch you hanging out in some grimy internet café with a bunch of wannabe anarchists.’
He lounged back in his seat, one eyebrow lifted, challenging her to contradict him.
Remembering their first meeting, Nola felt her heart beat faster, her stomach giving way to that familiar mix of apprehension and fascination, the sense that there was something pulling them inexorably closer.
But even as she felt her skin grow warm his teasing words stirred something inside her. Suddenly the desire to tease him back was overwhelming—to put the heat on him, to watch those grey eyes turn molten.
‘Actually, wannabe anarchists are usually pretty harmless—like sheep. It’s the wolf in sheep’s clothing you need to worry about.’
She kept her expression innocent, but heat cascaded down through her belly as his gaze locked onto hers with the intensity of a tractor beam. A small, urgent voice in the back of her head was warning her to back down, to stop playing Russian roulette with the man who’d loaded the gun she was holding to her head.
But then suddenly he smiled, and just like that nothing seemed to matter except being the focus of his undivided attention. It was easy to forget he was self-serving and arrogant...easy to believe that breaking the rules—her rules—wouldn’t matter just this once.
Her heart began to beat faster.
Except she knew from experience that it would matter. And that smile wasn’t a challenge. It was a warning—a red light flashing. Danger! Keep away!
Breathing in, she gave him a quick, neutral smile of her own. ‘Now, this menu!’ Holding her smile in place, she forced a casual note into her voice. ‘My French is pretty non-existent, so I might need a little help ordering.’
‘Don’t worry. I speak it fluently.’
‘You do?’ She gazed at him, torn between disbelief and wonder.
He shrugged. ‘My mother always wanted to live in Paris, but it didn’t work out. So she sent me to school there.’
Nola frowned. ‘Paris! You mean Paris in France?’
‘I don’t think they speak French in Paris, Texas.’
His face was expressionless. but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
Her eyes met his, then bounced away. ‘That’s such a long way from here,’ she said slowly.
‘I suppose it is.’
Her pulse twitched.
It would have been easy to take his reply at face value, as just another of those glib, offhand remarks people made to keep a conversation running smoothly.
But something had shifted in his voice—or rather left it. The teasing warmth had gone, had been replaced by something cool and dismissive that pricked her skin like the sting of a wasp.
It was her cue to back off—and maybe she would have done so an hour earlier. But this was the first piece of personal information he had ever shared with her.
She cleared her throat. ‘So how old were you?’
Along the back of her seat, she could feel the muscles in his arm tensing.
‘Seven.’ He gazed at her steadily. ‘It was a good school. I had a great education there.’
She knew her face had stiffened into some kind of answering smile—she just hoped it looked more convincing than it felt. Nodding, she said quickly, ‘I’m sure. And learning another language is such an opportunity.’
‘It has its uses.’ He spoke tonelessly. ‘But I wasn’t talking about speaking French. Being away taught me to rely on myself. To trust my own judgement. Great life lessons—and brilliant for business.’
Did he ever think of anything else? Nola wondered. Surely he must have been homesick or lonely? But the expression on his face made it clear that it was definitely time to change the subject.
Glancing down at her menu again, she said quickly, ‘So, what do you recommend?’
‘That depends on what you like to eat.’
Looking up, she saw with relief that the tightness in his face had eased.
‘The fish is great here, and they do fantastic steaks.’ He frowned. ‘I forgot to ask. You do eat meat?’
She nodded.
‘And no allergies?’
His words were innocent enough, but there was a lazy undercurrent in his voice that made the palms of her hands grow damp, and her heart gave a thump as his eyes settled on her face.
‘Apart from to me, I mean...’
Her insides tightened, and a prickling heat spread over her cheeks and throat as she gave him a small, tight, polite smile.
‘I’m not allergic to you, Mr Walker.’ She bit her lip, her eyes meeting his. ‘For a start, allergies tend to be involuntary.’
‘Oh, I see. So you’re choosing to ignore this thing between us?’
She swallowed, unable to look away from his dark, mocking gaze.
‘If by “ignore” you mean not behave in an unprofessional and inappropriate manner, then, yes, I am,’ she said crisply.
He studied her face in silence, and as she gazed into his flawless features a tingling heat seeped through her limbs, cocooning her body so she felt drowsy and blurred around the edges.
‘So you do admit that there is something between us?’
His words sent a pulse up her spine, bringing her to her senses instantly, and she felt a rush of adrenaline. Damn him! She was in security. It was her job to keep out unwanted intruders, to keep important data secret. So why was it that she fell into each and every one of his traps with such humiliating ease?
She wasn’t even sure how he did it. No one else had ever managed to get under her skin so easily. But he seemed not only able to read her mind, but to turn her inside out so that she had nowhere to hide. It made her feel raw, flayed, vulnerable.
Remembering the last time she had felt so vulnerable, she shivered. Connor’s betrayal still had the power to hurt. But, even though she knew now that it was her ego not her heart that he’d damaged, no good was going to come of confessing any of that to Ram—a man who had zero interest in emotions, his own and other people’s.
And that was why this conversation was going to stop.
Lifting her chin, she met his gaze with what she hoped was an expression of cool composure.
‘I don’t think a business meeting is really the right time to have this particular conversation,’ she said coolly. ‘But, as you have a girlfriend, I’m not sure when or where would be right.’
‘Girlfriend?’ He seemed genuinely surprised. ‘If you mean Clio, then, yes, she’s female. But “girlfriend”? That would be stretching it. And don’t look so outraged. She knows exactly what’s on offer, and she’s grateful to take it.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Grateful! For what? For being fortunate enough to have sex with the great Ramsay Walker?’
‘In a nutshell.’
He seemed amused rather than annoyed.
‘You surprise me, Ms Mason. Given the nature of your job, I thought you of all people would know that it pays to look beneath the surface.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘You really shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.’
A quivering irritation flickered through her brain, like static on the radio.
‘Is that right? So, for example, all those times you’re meant to have said you don’t want to get married or have children—that was all lies? You were misquoted?’
Ram stared past her, felt the breath whipping out of him. Used to women who sought to soothe and seduce, he felt her directness like a rogue wave, punching him off his feet. Who did she think she was, to question him like this? To put him, his life, under a spotlight?
But beneath his exasperation he could feel his body responding to the heat sparking in her eyes.
Ignoring his uneven heartbeat, he met her furious blue gaze. ‘I’m not in the business of explaining myself, Ms Mason. But this one time I’ll answer your question. I wasn’t misquoted. Everything I said was and is true. I have no desire whatsoever to marry or have children.’
That was an understatement. Marriage had never been a priority for him. Parenthood even less so. And for good reason. Both might appear to offer security and satisfaction, but it had been a long time since he’d believed in the myths they promised.
Out in the bay, the Opera House was lit up, its sails gleaming ghost-white. But it was the darkness that drew his gaze. For a moment he let it blot out the twisting mass of feelings that were rising up inside him, unbidden and unwelcome.
Commitment came at a cost, and he knew that the debt would never be paid. A wife and a child were a burden—a responsibility he simply didn’t want. Had never once wanted.
And he didn’t intend to start now.
Leaning back in his chair, he shrugged. ‘Marriage and parenthood are just a Mobius strip of emotional scenes that quite frankly I can do without. I’m sorry if that offends your romantic sensibilities, Ms Mason, but that’s how I choose to live my life.’
There was a moment of absolute silence.
Nola drew a breath. By ‘romantic’, he clearly meant deluded, soppy and hopelessly outdated. It was also obvious that he thought her resistance to him was driven not by logic but by a desire for something more meaningful than passion.
She felt a pulse of anger beneath her skin. Maybe it was time to disabuse him of that belief.
Eyes narrowing, she stared at him coldly. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, Mr Walker, but I don’t have any “romantic sensibilities”. I don’t crave a white wedding. Nor am I hunting for a husband to make my life complete. So if I actually had an opinion on how you live your life it would be that I have no problem with it at all.’
His watched—no—inspected her in silence, so that the air seemed to swell painfully in her lungs.
‘But you do have a problem...’ He paused, and the intent expression on his face made her insides tighten and her throat grow dry and scratchy. ‘You think I say something different in private to the women you refer to as my “girlfriends”.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘Then it’s my turn to disillusion you. I don’t make false promises. Why would I? It’s not as if I need to. I always get exactly what I want in the end.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re so arrogant.’
‘I’m being honest. Isn’t that what you wanted from me?’
‘I don’t want anything from you,’ she said hoarsely, trying to ignore the heat scalding her skin, ‘except a salary and a reference. I certainly have no interest in being some accessory to your louche lifestyle.’
Watching his mouth curl into a slow, sexy smile, she felt her stomach drop as though the legs of her chair had snapped.
‘So why are you blushing?’ he asked softly. ‘Surely not because of my “louche lifestyle”. I thought you were more open-minded than that.’
She glowered at him.
‘I’m as open-minded as the next woman. But not if it means being a part of your harem. That’s never been one of my fantasies.’
‘Sadly, I’m going to have to put your fantasies on hold,’ he said softly, raising his hand in a gesture of greeting to the two tall blond men who were weaving their way towards them. ‘Our guests are here. But maybe we could discuss them after dinner?’
* * *
‘I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you relax since you arrived.’
Glancing up at Ram, Nola frowned.
Dinner was over, and his limo had dropped them back at the RWI building. Now they were standing in the lift.
Like many of his remarks, it could be read in so many ways. But she was too tired to do anything but take it at face value.
‘It was fun,’ she said simply. ‘I enjoyed the food and the company.’
He did a mock stagger. ‘I’m flattered.’
Glancing up, she saw that he was smiling, and she felt a panicky rush of nerves. In daylight, Ram Walker was flawless but unattainable. Now it was night-time, and beneath the low lighting, with his top button undone and a shadow of stubble grazing his face, he looked like the perfect after-dark female fantasy.
But the point about fantasies was that they were never supposed to become reality, she told herself quickly.
Shaking her head, she gave him a small, careful smile. ‘I suppose it hasn’t occurred to you that I might be talking about Craig and Will?’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Nope.’
She swallowed. ‘They’re nice people.’
‘And I’m not?’
Her throat felt as though it was closing up. And, was it her imagination, or was the lift getting smaller and hotter?
‘You can be,’ she said cautiously. She felt her pulse twitch beneath his gaze. ‘But I don’t know you very well. We don’t know each other very well.’
Suddenly she was struggling to breathe, and her heart was beating very fast.
He smiled. ‘Oh, I think we know each other very well, Nola!’
Her stomach dropped as though the lift cable had suddenly snapped, and somewhere at the edge of her vision stars were flickering—only that couldn’t be right for they weren’t outside.
‘And I think you’re a lot like me,’ he said softly. ‘You’re focused, and determined, and you like breaking the rules. Even when you’re scared of the consequences.’
There was a tiny shift in the air...softer than a sigh.
She watched, dry-mouthed, her stomach twisting into knots as he reached out and ran his finger along her cheekbone. She could feel her heartbeat echoing inside her head like footsteps fleeing. As she should be.
Except that she couldn’t move—could hardly breathe.
He moved closer, sliding his hand through her hair.
‘When I met you in that café you took my breath away. You still do.’
There was silence as she struggled to speak, struggled against the ridiculous pleasure his words provoked. Pleasure she knew she shouldn’t acknowledge, let alone feel. Not for her boss anyway.
But maybe she was making too big a deal about that. He might be a CEO, but he was just a man, and as a woman she was his equal. Besides, as of tomorrow he wouldn’t even be her boss.
The thought jumped inside her head like popping candy, and then somehow her hand was on his arm, the magnetic pull between them impossible to resist.
‘Ram...’ She whispered his name and he stared down at her mutely. His eyes were dark and fierce, and she could see that he was struggling for control.
She felt a shiver of panic tumble down her spine.
But why?
What did she care if he was struggling? So was she. Like her, he was fighting himself—fighting this desire.
Desire.
The word jangled inside her head like a warning bell, for was desire a big enough reason to play truth or dare with this man? After all, she knew the risks, knew the consequences.
Her head was spinning. Memories of that first kiss with Connor were slip-sliding into an image of his face, resentful and distant, on that last day.
But there was no reason it would be the same with Ram.
Nola knew she had been reckless with Connor—clueless, really. She’d jumped off the highest board and hoped for what? Love? A soulmate? A future? But this was never going to be anything but lust. There was no expectation. No need to make promises.
And, most importantly, there would be no consequences. After tomorrow they would never see one another again. It would be a perfect moment of pure passion. So why shouldn’t she give in to it?
But even as the question formed in her mind she knew two things. One, it was purely rhetorical. And two, it was too late.
The warmth of his body had melted away the last of her resistance; the battle was already lost.
And, as though he could read her mind, Ram leaned forward and kissed her.
* * *
Groaning softly, he reached out blindly for the wall of the lift, trying to steady himself. He’d expected to feel something—hell, how could he not after the tension that had been building between them for weeks?—but the touch of her lips on his was like being knocked sideways by a rogue wave.
His head was spinning. Somewhere, the world was still turning, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was here and now and Nola. Her body was melting into him, moving as he moved, her breath and his breath were one and the same. He felt her lips part and, deepening the kiss, he pulled her closer.
As the doors opened he pulled her against him and out of the lift. Hands sliding over each other, they staggered backwards, drunkenly banging into walls, barely noticing the impact. Somehow they reached his office, and as he pushed open the door they stumbled into the room as one.
Nola reached out for him, her fingers clutching the front of his shirt. He could feel her heart pounding, hear her breath coming in gasps. She pulled him closer and, groaning softly, he wrapped his fingers around hers and dragged her arms behind her back, holding her captive.
