"Impress me?"
"Yeah, you know … be nice." She shrugged. "He reckons I have an attitude problem."
"Really?" His lips quirked. They were facing each other now. His gaze ran over her, and she had to hold herself still to prevent a little squirm, and then his eyes narrowed as he locked gazes with her.
She shrugged again. "But don't worry. If you're determined not to accept the bodyguards, there's nothing I can do about it."
"I wouldn't be so sure." He took a step toward her, filling her personal space. "You don't want to … try a little harder to persuade me?"
The door opened and two men made to enter. Declan turned his head. "Don't even think about it," he said quietly, and the men backed away and the doors closed once more. "Where were we?"
"I was on my way out?"
He tossed her a glance and then pressed the elevator button. They started to rise.
"What the fuck?" she muttered.
"Just a little experiment. Come on, Jess, where's your sense of adventure?"
His hand reached out, then slipped around the back of her neck. He tilted her head so she had no choice but to look into his face. Actually, she did have a choice; she had a gun, and she could shoot him. Instead, she held herself very still as he lowered his face to hers. Maybe this was what she needed to prove once and for all that she was over him. Or maybe she was a self-deluding idiot with no sense of self-preservation who just wanted a snog.
His lips were warm and firm and his tongue tasted of scotch, the flavor intoxicating, as he pushed inside, filling her. His kiss deepened, hot and wet and hard. One hand was still at her nape, the other wrapped around her, cupping her ass, pulling her against his hard length so she was aware of him against her breasts, her belly, her hips. Heat shot through her, thrills shivering along her nerves, pooling in her sex, taking her back to those long ago days, when she'd loved him and he'd taken everything she had to give and then dumped her when daddy told him to.
How dare he? How the hell fucking dare he kiss her? And not just kiss her, but kiss her like he fucking cared. Like she was the only woman in the goddamn world. He had always made her feel like that. No other man had come close.
And she hated it. She could feel herself spiraling out of control, the old feelings building inside her. All mixed in with an almost overwhelming need, to have him inside her just one more time. Have that hard body on her, in her.
They were almost glued together, and she shoved her hands between them, pushing hard. When he still didn't budge, she bit down on his lower lip, then placed her fingers around his upper arm and squeezed the exact spot he'd taken a bullet.
"Ouch." Raising his head, he loosened his grip and stepped back. His eyes were narrowed and a tic jumped in his cheek. He wasn't as cool as he was pretending. "You always did like it rough," he murmured.
"Fuck off, Declan."
His gaze dropped to her body. She acted instinctively and peered down; her nipples were tight little peaks. He smirked. "You're definitely getting … nicer. I might even be persuaded to put a good word in with your boss."
"Thanks, but don't put yourself out." Jess gritted her teeth. Had he always been this annoying? "Actually, there is another reason I came back."
"There is?"
"Hmm." She copied his actions and allowed her gaze to drop down over his body, God he was gorgeous. Why did he have to be the most gorgeous man she had ever encountered? "You know I hate you, Declan. I've hated you for a long time. Too long."
He swiped his tongue across his lower lip. "Baby girl, I love the way you hate."
"Don't call me that." She'd always hated the way he called her baby girl. She was only a year younger than him. "And hating you is pointless, and I've wasted too much time on it. So yeah, I came today, thought I'd take a look, remind myself of what an arrogant prick you are, and then I'd wipe you from my mind and move on." She stepped up closer and prodded him in the chest. He was like iron. "And guess what, Declan? You're an arrogant prick."
"So you want to move on?"
"Yeah. I'm going to find me a nice man."
He laughed. He actually laughed at her, and her palm itched with the need to reach for her gun. "Baby girl, you wouldn't know what to do with a nice man. And he sure as hell wouldn't know what to do with you."
"And you do, I suppose?" She knew the words were a mistake as soon as they escaped from her mouth.
"Oh yeah."
Heat coiled in her belly, and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. They were no longer moving. The lift had come to a halt at Declan's floor. But the doors remained closed.
"Come back with me, Jess." He leaned in close and kissed the side of her neck and heat in her belly sank lower. He licked her pulse point with the tip of his tongue and she swayed. "Come on, Jess." The words whispered across her skin. "You know you want to. One last time, just to remind you of how awful it was … boring and messy and then we can both move on."
The desire was building. Maybe this is what she needed. One last time. She'd never trust him again, never allow herself to care for him, risk any of her feelings. But this wasn't about feelings; this was about shagging. At the thought, her sex clenched tight.
God, she wanted him.
All of him. Then she wanted to walk away and never look back.
He must have seen something in her face because a slow smile curled his lips and his eyes glittered.
He pressed the button to open the door and then grabbed her hand, his fingers twining with hers as though he were still not sure she wouldn't make a dash for it.
Neither was she.
She was working on autopilot; she'd shut down the parts of her brain that could actually think. Because deep down she was perfectly aware that this was a mistake of fucking awesome proportions.
He dragged her out of the elevator and across the office. His assistant was still behind the desk, but his mouth had fallen open.
"Go home," Declan said. "You're finished for the day."
He didn't wait for any response, just continued to tug her across the carpeted floor and then through the big double doors into his office. The doors clicked shut behind them, and Declan turned and flicked the lock, then moved to face her.
"Take off the gun."
She shook her head. "What?"
"The gun, Jess. Take it off. You hate me, remember? I don't want you tempted if I piss you off."
Her brows drew together. "And are you planning on pissing me off?"
He grinned. "Well, it's not on my immediate list, but from past experience I can't rule it out."
Yeah, they'd always been volatile, had spent as much time arguing as they had making love.
They were going to do this. She knew that. There was no turning back now-if he tried, she might very well hold him down and take him by force. Years of need were simmering beneath the surface. She had to have this.
Keeping her eyes on him, she stripped off her jacket, strolled across the office, and laid it on a nearby chair. Then she slowly undid the buckles on the holster, slipped it from her shoulder, and gently rested it on top of the jacket.
He was watching her, his gaze intent, fixed on her like a predator searching for weaknesses in its prey. He appeared outwardly calm, but she could sense the pent-up emotion beneath the surface waiting to explode. A strange primordial fear gripped her, and she held herself still as though she might set off some cataclysmic explosion with the wrong move.
She tried to remind herself that he was a boring businessman who spent his whole life sitting behind a desk, but the description wouldn't hold. He'd always had an almost savage masculine beauty, his face all harsh angles, sharp cheekbones, the hard line of his jaw, the fierce slash of his black brows.
Her gaze dropped, snagging on the bulge at his groin. He wanted her.
And she wanted him with a desperation that scared her witless. The last working cell in her brain screamed at her to run. But she wasn't a coward. At the thought, that one functioning brain cell snorted in disgust. She was looking for any excuse to stay.
But it was just sex. Sex didn't have to mean anything. She'd proved that. Just not with this man. Yet. But wasn't that why she'd come here, to prove he was no different?
She was overthinking. She didn't want to think. She wanted to feel.
Their abandoned drinks were still on the table and she strode over, picked up her glass, and swallowed it in one go. She felt the scotch in her belly, stoking the flames. She slammed the glass down and picked up Declan's, gulped that, and turned to face him.
He quirked a brow but didn't speak. Instead, he raised his hand and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it out of his pants, stripping it off, and dropping it to the floor. And she stood there like an idiot and stared. A white bandage crossed his shoulder breaking up the perfection of his olive skin. His chest was smooth, but beneath his navel, a line of dark hair disappeared into his pants.
As she watched, he unbuckled the leather belt and flicked open the button on his pants.
Holy shit.
Sweat broke out on her palms, and she resisted the urge to wipe them down her sides. The alcohol was a buzz in her brain quieting the niggles of doubt. She placed the glass she was still gripping gently on the desk. If this was going to happen, she wanted it on her terms. She would decide.
Her gaze snagged on the line of silky black hair running down his lean belly, disappearing … Yeah, it was going to happen.