Читать книгу Unbuttoned by the Boss: Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss / The Far Side of Paradise / Rub It In - Kira Sinclair, Robyn Donald - Страница 9

ALL Sophy could hear was the thud, thud, thud of her heart. ‘Deliberate?’

He smiled. Such a slow, amused smile she wondered whether the word had actually emerged from her mouth or whether it had just been some sort of scared-animal squeak.

‘You seemed to like it,’ he said quietly, tiny twin lights dancing in his otherwise incredibly dark eyes.

Like it? Oh, that was the understatement of the century.

She blinked at him. He was so calm. So at ease in his gorgeous skin. So sure of his effect on her—the effect he definitely had on any woman—he was that confident. It was enough to slap sense back into her. ‘You’re definitely feeling better, aren’t you?’

‘One hundred per cent.’

‘Great.’ Sophy took a step back into the corridor. ‘Then perhaps you’d like to see what I’ve been doing with sorting out the admin in there.’

‘I’ve seen it. It’s looking good. It’s very easy to understand the system you’re setting up.’

‘Oh.’ She was deflated—he’d stolen the ball back just like that.

‘But we do need to talk about the function coming up.’

He walked out to the corridor after her. ‘And I need to show you some of the stuff to update the website. I understand Kat’s been helping you a bit when she can?’

‘Yes, she’s been great.’ Sophy tried really hard to keep her concentration on the conversation but it kept sliding down to where his flat abs hit his jeans. Unbelievable—both his body and her reaction to it.

‘The rest of the team will be back in later today. They’ve been helping on another project.’

‘The bar.’ Kat had told her about it. Lorenzo was the backer behind some guy opening up a new bar in the heart of cooldom. And she could totally be professional in the face of this provocation. Sure she could.

‘Yes.’ He was sounding all serious but his eyes were dancing. ‘Shall we go into your office and get on with it?’

She stopped only three paces along. Nope. She couldn’t be professional—not like this. ‘Do you possibly think that you could put a shirt on?’

A deep, totally pure sound of amusement rumbled out of him. ‘It really bothers you.’

‘It’s inappropriate.’ Sophy felt her temperature rising. She wasn’t a prude—really she wasn’t. But this was just before nine a.m. and they were at work. Hell, yes, it bothered her.

‘No more inappropriate than you bursting into my apartment and ordering a nurse for me.’

Sophy smiled, feeling a sense of power return. ‘Now that really bothered you, didn’t it? Me seeing you like that—in such a weakened state. Did it wound your male pride? Is that why you’re showing your muscles again now? Proving your masculine strength?’

‘You really think I was weak?’ He turned, his big frame took up half the space in the corridor. And then he moved. Instinctively she retreated—backing up against the wall. But he followed, totally hemming her in. She stuck her chin in the air trying not to feel anxious—or, worse, the lick of anticipation.

Sparks seemed to be coming from his eyes. ‘I don’t think I’m the one who needs to prove anything. I think that’s for you to do.’

‘What exactly do you think I need to prove? That you don’t bother me?’ Altitude sickness on the second floor—that was her problem. She must be the world’s first case but she’d swear the air was thinner here because she could hardly get her words higher than a whisper.

His brows flickered. ‘Don’t I?’

‘Of course you do.’

His brows shot higher. What, he hadn’t expected honesty?

‘You’re half naked. All the time,’ she explained the obvious. ‘But it’s the inappropriateness that bothers me. Not your actual body.’ Oh, great, now she sounded prissy. And not at all honest.

His smile was back showing off his even white teeth. And he was playing with her the way a cat did a mouse. She needed to talk to Rosanna—really badly. She needed advice from a pro. Because there was no way she was letting Lorenzo Hall win this with such one-sided ease. She wasn’t going to roll over and be the latest in what she was certain was a very long line—at least not without scoring some points of her own. For nor was she going to cut off her nose to spite her face. She wasn’t going to deny herself a moment of pure pleasure should the opportunity arise. Yes, he bothered her—like that. Yes, she wanted him.

But she’d make like Rosanna and have him on her terms. For once in her life she was going to turn her back on responsibility; she’d take a risk and go for something she wanted. She just had to figure out how.

Lorenzo knew he was being naughty. But there was that bit in him that had always derived pleasure from taking risks. From doing exactly what society said he shouldn’t—stretching the boundaries as far as he could and stopping only just before they broke.

He had matured—his transgressions were nothing near the edge he’d veered towards all those years ago. He stayed on the right side of the law now. But this oh-so-perfect Miss made him push it. Even just this little bit, to risqué, to rude, when really he wanted to ravish—really, really badly.

The look on her face had been worth the dodgy removal of his shirt. So worth it—even if he was struggling to contain his wayward hormones now. He just wanted to reach out and pull her against him—hard. His skin was on fire—had been since she’d touched him in his apartment the other day. Her small, cool hand hadn’t soothed him at all—had only stirred the desire he’d already been battling to control. In those first twenty-four hours when the sickness was at its worst, he’d done nothing but dream of her. He was still dreaming of her and where he wanted that hand.

He’d been working too hard, round the clock with no room for fun. But it should ease up soon. Once the bar was open he’d be able to take a step back. And have some fun. Then again, there was no reason why he couldn’t have some fun right now.

Her eyes had narrowed. He could just about see the cogs turning and whirring in her brain. The vixen-with-training-wheels looked as if she was plotting.

A phone rang—hers. Her hand went to her bag. He was disappointed to see her move. But he didn’t move away. Took too much pleasure in watching her shrink back an awkward inch as she answered. But felt the pleasure turn to ash when he heard the male tones. He listened as she organised.

‘Yes, don’t worry, Ted. I’m picking it up on my way home. I’ll drop it round before six.’

Who the hell was Ted? Lorenzo waited ’til she said goodbye. Then let the power of silence work its magic.

‘That was my brother. Sorry,’ she finally said.

He took the phone from her hand and switched it off. ‘When you’re with me, all your attention is with me.’

Her eyes widened. He watched her swallow.

‘On work,’ he added, way too late.

He held out her phone for her to take back. Smiling inside as he saw her jerky movements. Yeah, he liked the way he could bother her. Because she really bothered him. He took a careful step away—right now they both needed a minute. ‘I’ll go get my shirt and then we’ll go through the stuff for Whistle, right?’

Sophy poured the entire contents of the ice tray into her glass—not caring that half the blocks fell out onto the bench and skidded onto the floor. She was unbearably hot—Lorenzo putting his shirt on had made no difference. For over an hour she’d suffered—sitting at the desk while he hovered beside her, behind her. Filling in the holes that had appeared in the days when she’d been working without the information only he or Cara could provide. She’d had the rest of the day to recover—but she hadn’t succeeded. She gulped down half the glass of water, sagged against the bench, she was so out of her depth.

‘Where have you been? I’m only home for half a day and I wanted us to go for a pedicure and—’

Sophy turned, dropping the glass in the sink. ‘You’re back!’ Thrilled, she ran across the room and hugged her elusive flatmate.

‘Okay, you’ve missed me too.’ Rosanna’s arms came round her and tightened. Then pushed her away. ‘Shirts, doll, we can’t crush our shirts.’

Sophy laughed. In the sentence of life, Sophy figured she was like a verb—the action, the one who got things done. Not very exciting perhaps, but necessary. Rosanna, however, was the exclamation mark. The rare beauty that could fill a whole paragraph—a whole room—with excitement. She even looked like one. Always dressed in black, she was a thin streak of long limbs, her glossy dark hair swept in a high ponytail that swung halfway down her back. She was full of vitality, and sheer outrageousness.

‘Now where have you been? I landed hours ago and have been lonely ever since and now the taxi to take me back to the airport will be here in ten. What’s up with your mobile?’

Sophy walked back to the bench to find and refill her glass. How was she going to explain this one? Rosanna was not going to be impressed. ‘I’m doing some admin work.’

Rosanna frowned. ‘You’ve got a job?’

‘Only for a few weeks. Their usual administrator’s baby arrived sooner than expected.’

‘Baby okay?’

‘Baby’s fine.’

‘So why couldn’t they get a temp? Why did it have to be you?’ Rosanna rolled her eyes. ‘Who asked you?’

‘Cara, the new mother, is a good friend of Victoria’s.’

‘Of course she is. Of course you couldn’t say no.’ Rosanna gave a theatrical sigh as she went to the pantry and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘So where’s the job?’

‘You heard of the Whistle Fund?’

Rosanna wolf-whistled as she unscrewed the cap of the bottle. ‘Alex Carlisle and Lorenzo Hall. Who hasn’t heard of them? Alex got married recently and Lorenzo’s someone you don’t forget. Ever.’

Well, that was true. His image was burned on Sophy’s brain, every inch of skin, muscle and pure man.

‘Every bit as good as he looks, apparently,’ Rosanna drawled.

‘You’ve hooked him?’ A hot flash of envy sliced through Sophy.

‘No,’ Rosanna said, pausing as she poured the crimson wine. ‘Not that I’d turn him down. But the one time our paths crossed I didn’t even score a second glance.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Sophy was able to smile again. ‘Every man gives you at least four glances.’

‘Sweetie-pie.’ Rosanna flopped into a chair, giant wine glass in hand. ‘No, I’ve heard he’s impossible to catch. Tangles in the nets now and then but always swims free.’

Sophy was quite sure he tangled and then ripped free. ‘I think he’s a shark.’

‘Do you now?’ Rosanna giggled—half choking on her wine.

‘Absolutely,’ Sophy said. ‘I think he’s far too used to seeing any fish he wants and getting the kill.’

Rosanna held her glass up to the light and with a flick of her wrist let the liquid swirl inside it. ‘At the very least you might score some wine.’

Sophy shook her head. ‘I don’t know that we’ll be getting on well enough for that.’

Rosanna tilted her head on the side and appraised Sophy, a sly smile on her lips. ‘You’re interested.’

‘No I’m not.’ Sophy lied. And then immediately started to laugh.

Rosanna laughed too. ‘Of course you are. We all are. But—’ her nose wrinkled ‘—I don’t think he’s your type.’

‘No?’ Sophy felt irrationally put out.

‘He is a shark,’ Rosanna said. ‘You need a dolphin.’

‘Oh, great. Someone with a big nose.’

‘And with a habit of rescuing rather than destroying. It’s true.’ Rosanna sat up. ‘You need a good guy, Soph, someone safe and cuddly, not some dangerous type you couldn’t handle.’

‘You don’t think I could handle him?’

‘I know you couldn’t.’

‘So you’ve no advice for me?’

Rosanna looked up sharply. ‘I’m the last person you should take advice from.’

How did she figure that? She was the one who had them all eating out of her palm.

‘You were wearing that when you saw him?’ Rosanna’s expression clouded.

‘What? What’s wrong with it?’ Had she committed some terrible fashion faux pas? She couldn’t think what.

‘Nothing. But if he has a Grace Kelly fantasy, then you’re in trouble.’

Sophy snorted. ‘Now who’s the sweetie-pie?’

‘He’d gobble a kitten like you.’ Rosanna frowned. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Anyway, I’m grumpy, we don’t have time for a pedicure now. I’ve had to sit here all day doing nothing.’

Kitten? She thought she was a kitten? ‘Poor you.’ Now Sophy had zero sympathy. ‘It’s about time you stopped and did nothing for half a day.’

Rosanna cupped her hand round her mouth, making a pretend megaphone. ‘Pot calling kettle, come in, kettle.’ She stood. ‘At least I’m busy pushing my career. You’re just busy doing everything for everyone else.’

‘You’re going to miss your next flight. Go have a good trip.’ Rosanna was a buyer for one of the major fashion chains. Knowledgeable, chic, damn good at her job and away more nights than she was at home.

Rosanna picked up the handle of her chic trolley case. ‘I love Wellington.’

‘The boys are going to miss you.’

‘It’ll be good for them.’ Rosanna bent and flicked an invisible speck of fluff from her black trousers.

Sophy watched the studied indifference with a smile. ‘Are you ever going to make a decision?’

Rosanna appeared to think on it for a moment, then smiled shamelessly. ‘I don’t think so, no.’

Rosanna had been dating two men for the last month. They knew about each other. Hell, they all went clubbing together, the boys’ rivalry half jest, half serious. Rosanna, the black widow, liked to have as many in her web as possible to play with. And once they were caught, they were never freed. She had carcasses all over the globe. Emmet and Jay were her latest victims yet somehow she pulled it off with such charm they didn’t seem to mind—in fact they salivated over her.

Sophy knew there was a heart of gold underneath the glam. It was just that Rosanna wouldn’t admit to it, certainly wouldn’t let anyone near it. She spent her life fencing, flirting on a superficial—if somewhat bitchy—plane. Sophy knew why; Rosanna’s heart had been broken and she wasn’t letting any man near it again. She was only about having light, harmless, fun and keeping any seriousness at a distance.

Sophy’s heart had also been broken. Frankly she wanted some of the fun now too—and she knew who with. She walked with Rosanna to the door, waited for the taxi to arrive and tried to absorb some of her friend’s zest for life.

Rosanna did all the things Sophy was too ‘responsible’ to do: she had crazy flings, she went to far flung destinations, she was impulsive and a risk-taker. She did danger—she’d do dangerous like Lorenzo Hall kind of dangerous.

But Sophy had always had more than herself to consider. She loved her parents and had never wanted to embarrass them. As she was the judge’s daughter it would have made the perfect salacious storyline—if she’d gone off the rails, been a teen drinker, teen pregnant, or got into drugs. But she’d done none of those things. She’d tried to be the perfect kid—even when she knew she was a disappointment in not following them into the law. She’d even tried to find the perfect boyfriend. If she couldn’t live up to the family name she’d marry someone who would. She’d been so naïve—her ex had only wanted her for what he could get out of it—the connection to her family. She supposed it served her right.

She was the boring, goody two-shoes who’d been embarrassingly naïve. Now she was in the habit of playing safe. Not playing at all. Not taking risks.

She never discussed her family with anyone at all now. Privacy had been important anyway, discretion a must. People were put off just as much as they were intrigued, as if they thought she’d run to her father if they mentioned anything even slightly shady. It was as if they expected her to be a pillar of morality, never once veering from doing right.

And in truth she was.

‘Is this job full-time?’ Rosanna asked.

‘Initially.’

‘You know your problem, Soph?’

‘Go on, enlighten me.’

‘You’re too sweet. Why don’t you ever say no to them? Why don’t you ever say no to me?’

‘How can I?’ Sophy argued. ‘You let me move in.’ She hadn’t wanted to stay with her parents. But hadn’t wanted to live alone either—at least, not all the time.

Rosanna shrugged. ‘I’m hardly here. It’s a selfish move on my part—you’re a good house-sitter.’

‘Yes.’ Sophy laughed, not in the least offended, knowing Rosanna didn’t mean it.

‘But when are you going to get those pieces finished?’

Sophy bit her lip. She’d known Ro would bring it up eventually. ‘I don’t know that I can.’

‘You’re doing it, Sophy. This is such a great opportunity.’

‘You’ve just told me to learn to say no.’

‘Only to the things you don’t really want. This is something you do want, isn’t it? This is something to push for. Put your ambition first for once.’

‘I will.’ Sophy groaned, but Rosanna was right of course. ‘When are you back?’

‘Later in the week. Another flying visit home and then off again.’

‘You don’t get tired of it?’

‘No.’

And perhaps if they saw each other more they’d drive each other nuts. The taxi finally pulled up and Rosanna strutted down to get it, her ponytail swinging, her ultrahigh heels tapping and her trolley rattling along the concrete path.

‘Don’t say yes to anything else while I’m away,’ she called as she got into the cab. ‘I mean it.’ She stopped and opened the door again to holler, ‘Especially not Lorenzo Hall!’

‘Kittens have claws, you know.’

‘Not enough to make a mark on a man like him.’

Laughing, Sophy shut the front door. Rested against it for a moment, listening to the vast silence Rosanna had left behind her. She’d been right. Lorenzo was out of her league. And probably not genuinely interested anyway—he was just amusing himself by making her squirm.

Rosanna was right about something else too. Sophy needed to finish up her pieces and prepare for the exhibition. It was a fantastic opportunity and she shouldn’t blow it. Inspired, she went into her room and got to work on them—kept working late into the night. Once she got into it the excitement flowed and she decided to make the most of her lunch break—she had no time to waste if she wanted to get enough made.

She got to work early the next day to get ahead. She opened the window in the office to let the fresh spring air in. Looking down, she saw Lorenzo was out the back. Wide brush in hand, he was covering the graffiti with black paint—to match the rest of the fence. So it bothered him enough at last? Sophy thought it was a bit of a shame. But, unable to resist, she watched. His jeans hung that little bit low on his hips, an old tee was stretched across his broad shoulders. His feet were bare. He had his phone trapped between ear and shoulder and his voice carried across the still yard. As did his laughter.

She should probably close the window.

Instead she switched on her computer. She’d concentrate on the work. Not listen to every word winging through the window.

‘So what’s the castle like?’ Lorenzo asked.

Alex had taken Dani to Italy on a belated but extended honeymoon. They were staying in some castle for a few weeks.

‘Amazing. As it should be for the price. How’s Cara?’

‘Shattered but holding her own, I think.’ He swirled the brush through the paint. ‘She loved the flowers. She said the baby is tiny but she’s doing well.’

‘You’ve not been to see her yet?’

‘No.’ Lorenzo winced.

‘Renz—’

‘Not my scene, Alex, you know that.’ Happy families weren’t him. He was concerned for Cara, of course he was, and he’d sent over a ton of presents, asked if there was anything he could do. Of course there wasn’t, she and her husband and their entire extended families had it together. So he didn’t have to go and feel awkward around them.

‘What about the Whistle Fund? Did you find someone to help out?’ Alex moved on.

‘Yeah,’ Lorenzo sighed. ‘Cara did—a friend’s younger sister or something. One of those socialites who likes to be involved.’ Lorenzo jabbed a fence paling with the brush. ‘She’s so damn efficient. Organised. Officious. She looks like a frigid girl scout.’

Alex laughed. ‘So many adjectives, Renz—she bothering you?’

‘No.’ If only he knew.

Alex laughed even harder—okay, so he knew he was lying. ‘So she’s a babe?’

Lorenzo slapped some paint on even thicker. Yes, she was a babe. In more ways than one. All big blue eyes and blonde hair that begged to be ruffled. Hot-looking but with an air of innocence that Lorenzo wasn’t at all sure that he should taint. ‘She’s doing the job. That’s all that matters.’

The job would be done—brilliantly—and he’d find a permanent replacement very soon. Because he had too much else to do to be fixating on her all the time like this.

He ended the call to Alex, finished up the fence. Picking up the can, he swung round, glanced up to the first floor. The window to her office was open but he couldn’t see anyone sitting at the desk. Kat must have opened it.

He jogged up to his apartment—scrubbed the paint off in the shower. But he had an itch that just had to be scratched. He had to go have another look, see if he could make her spark again. It was like she’d put some kind of homing device in him, drawing him near. He went down to Reception and stole the mail from Kat’s tray. Then his feet just went to where she was.

Irresistible.

‘You going out with your boyfriend tonight?’ he asked. So lame. So unsubtle.

She froze where she was bent over a pile of papers.

‘You should come to the bar. It’s the opening night.’

‘You’re that desperate for customers?’ She looked up, all frost. Touchy this morning.

‘Actually no. We’re confident it’ll do the business. I just thought you might like to see it.’ He leaned his frame against the door. ‘It’s a nice little place, intimate. You can cuddle on a sofa in the corner.’ Would she be the type to cuddle in public? Somehow he didn’t think so—she had that aloof thing going. ‘Or you can work up a sweat on the dance floor. Oh…’ he paused deliberately ‘…you’ll be on the sofa, then, won’t you?’

‘I like to dance.’

His muscles tightened at the unexpected tinge of boldness in her tone, he looked harder at her.

‘But I already have plans for tonight.’ Oh, she was ultra cool—it made him suspect she was even hotter beneath.

‘With your boyfriend?’ Yeah, again, real subtle. But he really needed to know. Now.

Sophy gave up pretending to look at the file in front of her. ‘No,’ she said as calmly as she could—tricky given the anger zooming round and round her veins, searching for a way out. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘No?’ Annoyingly he didn’t sound that surprised. Worse, he looked pleased about it.

‘I don’t want one.’ Damn, she’d tacked that on too quickly, sounded too vehement. And they both knew it.

His brows lifted. ‘Why’s that?’ He put the mail on her desk, the action bringing him even closer to her. ‘Did some twerp break your heart?’

She took a moment to draw breath—so she could answer with icy precision. ‘What makes you think I have a heart?’ She bit the words out with the experience of seven years’ elocution lessons behind her. ‘We frigid girl scouts don’t bother with them. We find machinery to be more efficient.’

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her gaze—it clashed with his for a long, long time. His own eyes revealed nothing, yet seemed to penetrate her façade—delving into her secrets. She felt the blush rising—stupidly—when he was the one who’d been so rude. He’d said it. She’d only overheard it by mistake. So why was she the one feeling so uncomfortable now?

‘Struck a nerve, did I?’ Without breaking the stare he walked around her desk. ‘I only said you look like that, not that you actually are.’

‘Same difference.’ All her nerves were prickling now.

His smile sharpened. ‘But I already know you’re quite capable of feeling something.’

She just stared at him, fighting to slow her pulse.

‘Anger.’ He grabbed her arms and pulled her out of the chair. ‘Are you very angry with me, Sophy?’

He was inappropriately close—again—holding her tight, yet she didn’t fight to step back. She refused to let him intimidate her, or to play with her.

‘Do you want me to make it better?’ His arms looped around her, hands warm and firm on her waist.

‘How are you planning to do that?’ She took a quick breath, shaking inside, but stabbed him with some sarcasm. ‘With a kiss?’

‘Isn’t that how it works?’ He leaned closer, spearing her with his dark, unreadable eyes. ‘Isn’t that what you want?’

‘No.’ Now she was even more angry. Because he was right. It was what she wanted. What she’d been wanting since she first laid eyes on him, and especially since she’d been in his apartment and touched him. But she didn’t want it like this. ‘I don’t think it would make it better.’

‘No?’

‘I think it would make it worse.’ She flashed at him. ‘Don’t patronise me, Lorenzo. You think you’re better than me? You think I’m some robot? Some spoilt, bored socialite? Spending all my time doing this and that for everyone else? You think I don’t have ambition of my own? Dreams of my own? Desires of my own?’

She shut up, suddenly aware she was verbally vomiting an ancient bitterness that she’d never wanted to talk about to anyone, certainly not to him.

His hold on her tightened. ‘I don’t think that. But obviously you think some people do.’

Yeah, a little bubbling mass of resentment, that was her.

‘Why didn’t you say no to working here, if you had other things you wanted to do?’ He made it sound so simple.

But she never said no—not to that kind of request. And she did have some time to help. She liked to help. It make her feel useful, needed. Except now it felt as if Lorenzo had been laughing at her willingness and her diligence. Were they all laughing at her? Was she valued at all or were her efforts just taken for granted?

Tired. That was her problem. Tired and frustrated and overwhelmed. And he wasn’t helping—towering over her like this, tormenting her all the time. She looked straight down to the floor as tears sprang in her eyes. ‘Forget it.’

‘No.’ He took her chin in firm fingers and tilted her head back up so he could see her face. A half-swallowed growl sounded. ‘You’re really upset.’

‘My wounded pride will get over it,’ she snapped, cross with her stupid weakness. ‘I don’t care what you think. I’m here to do a job. Now I’m going to get on with it.’

‘Not until I apologise.’

‘I didn’t think you’d be the type to say sorry.’

‘And you think I’m the one making assumptions?’ His eyes glinted but the smallest of smiles appeared. ‘Okay, I don’t say it often. But when I do, I mean it.’ He stroked her jaw. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’ She shrugged, too crushed to accept it with good grace and determined not to let that smile have its usual disabling effect. ‘I don’t care what you think about me.’

His smile deepened just a touch. Okay, so she was protesting too much.

She sighed as a flicker of good humour returned to her. ‘Don’t get big-headed about it. I care too much what everyone thinks about me.’

‘What you think matters to me too.’

Okay, so now his niceness was making it worse. Embarrassed, she shifted. ‘Look, just forget it.’

‘No.’ His grip tightened. ‘I’m going to make it better. I’m going to do it anyway. It’s been on the cards for days. You know that.’

She froze, her body rendered immobile with anticipation overload. All she could do was gaze up at him—drowning in his eyes, yearning for that beautiful mouth to touch her.

And then it did.

A butterfly-light brush of lips on skin—a shade too close to her mouth to be a safe kiss on the cheek. And he lingered too long for it to be safe too.

‘Better?’ His question almost inaudible, but she heard it, felt it as his lips grazed her as he asked.

‘No.’

The smallest of pauses as they stood—intent hovering. Only a couple of inches separated their bodies, only a millimetre separated their lips. She could feel his heat, and smell his fresh soapy scent. A tremor ran through her as anticipation almost broke her nerve. Suddenly he moved—that merest fraction, the littlest drop to her mouth. His lips were warm, and they clung.

Her eyes closed, her body blanking everything so it could focus only on the touch. His gentleness so unexpected, the rush of sensation pierced through her.

A moan—was it her? The softness, the slowness, the sweetness overwhelmed her. She trembled again and his hands tightened. This wasn’t enough.

And then it was over.

She couldn’t breathe. She saw his eyes zooming in on her. Jet black now. Intense. Beautiful. Time and motion stopped for a moment that felt like infinity. Her every nerve was wired, waiting, wanting. Would he come back—would he kiss her again?

‘No,’ he said roughly, stepping back. His hands dropped—leaving her suddenly cold. ‘You were right. I was wrong.’ He walked out of the door. ‘I really am sorry.’