And she had been. Her dreams had been a vortex filled with Richard and their tempestuous time together, past and present. He’d always wreaked havoc inside her, awake or asleep. There’d never been any escaping him. Not in her psyche. She’d just have to settle for escaping him in reality.
By the time she headed to her office, her new conviction that he’d fade from her life again made her wonder if she should come clean to Rose and Jeffrey about her past.
She’d tried to after she’d left Richard yesterday, to deprive him of that coercion card. But their schedules hadn’t allowed her to even broach the subject. So she’d scheduled a meeting with Rose first thing in the morning, the one sure way to get a hold of her.
But if Richard disappeared again, should she expose the ugly truth of her history to Rose and Jeffrey? Just the knowledge would scar their psyches. And what if they worried her past would catch up with her and they’d be standing too close when it did? She was certain there was absolutely no danger of that, or she wouldn’t have taken their partnership offer. But what if they couldn’t feel safe with her around?
She stood by her conviction they’d never judge her, would be more supportive than they already were. But if they worried about their family’s safety at all, she’d have to leave.
And she didn’t want to leave. Them, the practice, her new place. It was the first time she felt she had real friends, a workplace where she belonged and a home.
By the time she opened her office door she’d made her decision.
She’d wait to see what Richard did. If he disappeared again, that would be that. If he didn’t...
No. She wouldn’t consider that possibility until it came to pass.
Suddenly she found herself plucked from the ground and suspended against the door she’d just closed with two-hundred-plus pounds of premium maleness plastered against her.
“You’re late.”
A squeeze of her buttocks accompanied his reprimand before he crashed his lips over hers, invading her with the taste of him, the distillation of dominance and danger.
But he was invading more than her essence. He was breaching her last privacy, leaving her no place to hide. Just when she’d convinced herself he’d leave her alone, set her free.
She’d do anything to make him let her go. Even beg.
But his large hands were spreading her thighs around his hips, raising her to thrust his erection up at her core as he dragged her down on it. His tongue filled her again and again, drank her moans as they formed. Reality softened, awareness expanded to encompass his every breath and heartbeat. Nothing remained but Richard and her and their fusion.
“Richard...”
“Yes, let me hear your distress for me, make up for the agonizing night I spent, needing you under me, all around me.”
Something shrill cut through the fog of sensations as he undid her blouse and bra, bent to engulf one nipple in his mouth. The first hot suckle almost made her faint with pleasure. Then the clamor rose again until she realized what it was—her mind screaming, reminding her of the threat he posed to her existence and everyone in it.
It finally imbued her with enough sanity and strength to push out of the craved prison of his arms and passion, to stumble away and put her clothes back in order.
“What are you doing here?”
At his question she turned to him with an incredulous huff. “I won’t even dignify that by echoing it.”
Lids heavy, his gaze swept her in ruthless hunger, strumming her simmering insanity. “I told you to end your partnership with the Andersons. And what did you do? You reported to work yesterday and again first thing this morning. When I made it clear this is the one thing I won’t budge on.”
She tossed him a contemptuous glance. “You don’t have to budge. Only to bugger off, as you say in your homeland.”
His lips twisted in that palpitation-inducing smile that seemed to come easier to him since yesterday. “Don’t think that because I want you now more than ever I will bargain with you over this. It’s not a matter of either you do it or you don’t.”
“You’re right. It’s not a matter of ‘either or’ but ‘neither nor.’” At his arching eyebrow, she huffed. “You do know your grammar, don’t you? The language was coined where you hail from. I will neither end anything with the Andersons nor start anything with you.”
A theatric exhalation. “Pity. After everything that happened between us, I would have rather not forced you into complying. Oh, well.”
He produced his phone from his pocket, pressed one virtual button. The line opened in two seconds and she heard a deep voice on the other end. She thought it said, “Sir.”