Not Just the Boss's Plaything(17)

"Is it?" He shouldn't sound so amused. So indulgent.

She would have scowled at him, but thought he would read that as    weakness. Instead, she tilted up her chin and tried to project the kind    of tough, cool competence she wished she felt as she called his bluff   to  his face.

"I'm not going to take part in your little bit of revenge theater no    matter how much time you spend feeding the office gossip mill," she told    him. Tough. Calm. Cool. "If you want to have me fired because you  took   me home from a club of your own free will, go right ahead." She  let  that  sit there for a moment, then angled her head ever so slightly   closer to  his, for emphasis. "I didn't do anything wrong, I'm not   afraid of you  and I'd advise you try to communicate with your ex-wife   through more  traditional channels."

Nikolai simply...shifted position.

He moved with a primal grace that robbed her of speech, pivoting without    seeming to do so much as breathe. All Alicia knew was that she was    facing him one moment and the next her back was up against the wall. As    if he'd willed her to let him cage her there, his hands flat against   the  smooth wall on either side of her face.

He hadn't laid so much as a single finger upon her. He didn't now. He leaned in.

Much too close, and her body reacted as if he'd plugged her into the    nearest socket. The white-hot light of this shocking heat between them    pulsed through her, making her gasp. Her body betrayed her in a    shivering flush, sensation scraping through her, making her skin pull    taut, her breasts feel suddenly full and that wet, hot hunger punch its    way into her belly before settling down between her legs. Where it    stayed, a wild and greedy need, and all of it his. His.

As if she was, too.

"What the hell are you doing?" But it was no more than a whisper, and it    gave her away as surely as that treacherous ache inside of her that    Alicia was sure he could sense, somehow.

"I am a man possessed," Nikolai murmured, his mouth so close to hers she    felt the pull of it, the ache, roll through her like a flash of pain,    despite the hint of laughter she could hear in his voice.  "Infatuated.   Just as I promised you."

"I can see why your brother is the famous actor while you storm about,    growling at other rich men and demanding their money." But her voice  was   little more than a breath, completely insubstantial, and she had  to  dig  her fingers into the folder she carried to keep from touching  that   glorious chest that was right there in front of her, taunting  her.   "Because you're not terribly convincing, and by the way, I'm  fairly   certain this counts as stalking."

"Those are very strong words, Alicia." He didn't sound concerned.    Nikolai rested his considerable, sleek weight on his hands and    surrounded her. Hemmed her in. Let his body remind her of all those    things she wanted to forget. Needed to forget. "Harassment. Stalking."

"Strong, yes." She could feel her pulse in her throat, a frantic staccato. "And also accurate."

Alicia felt more than heard his small laugh against the tender skin of    her neck, and she knew he saw the goose bumps that prickled there when    he lifted that knowing gaze to hers.

"This is the first time I've seen you inside this office since you    walked into the conference hall." Nikolai didn't move back. He gave her    no room to breathe. If she tried to twist away, to escape him the way    she wanted to do, she would have to brush up against him-and she  didn't   dare do that. She couldn't trust herself. Not when he smelled  like   winter. Not when she had the alarming urge to bury her face in  his   chest. "I haven't followed you around making suggestive comments. I    extended a single invitation to you, Alicia. I didn't even do it  myself.   And you declined it without any repercussions at all."                       
       
           



       

"Says the man who has me pinned up against a wall."

"I'm not touching you," Nikolai pointed out, that dangerously lazy gleam    in his bright gaze. "I'm not restraining you in any way. I could, of    course." That gleam grew hotter, making her toes curl inside her  shoes,   making that need inside her rage into a wildfire. Making her  despair of   herself. "All you have to do is ask."

"I want you to stop this," she managed to get out, desperate to fight    off the maelstrom he'd unleashed in her, the images carnal and tempting    that chased through her head and made her much too aware of how weak   she  was.

How perilously close to compounding the error she'd already made with    this man, right here in her office. In the stairwell. Every inch of her    the whore her father had called her.

"Which this?" He sounded impossibly male, then. Insufferably smug, as if    he knew exactly how close she was to capitulation. "Be specific."

She shifted then, and it was agonizing. He was right there, and she knew    she couldn't allow herself to touch him, not even by accident-but she    was terribly afraid she wasn't going to be able to help herself. How    could she fight herself and him?

"I'd rather be sacked right now than have to put up with this," she whispered fiercely.

He laughed again then, and she wished that sound didn't get to her. She    wished she could simply ignore it and him along with it. But it made   him  that much more beautiful, like a perfect sunset over a rugged   mountain,  and it made something inside of her ignite no matter how much   she  wished it didn't.

"You and I both know I could prove you a liar." He dropped his head    slightly, and inhaled, as if pulling the scent of her skin deep into his    lungs, and that fire in her began to pulse, greedy and insistent. Her    nipples pressed against the soft fabric of her dress, and she was    terrified he'd see it. Terrified he'd know. "How long do you think it    would take, solnyshka? One second? Two? How long before you wrap    yourself around me and beg?"

Of course he knew. Hadn't that long night with him taught her anything?

Alicia stiffened, panic like a drumbeat inside of her, but it only    seemed to make that fire in her burn hotter. Nikolai moved even closer,    somehow, though that shouldn't have been possible, and he was so big,   so  powerful, that it was as if nothing existed except the breadth of   his  shoulders. He surrounded her, and there was a part of her way down   deep  that wasn't at all conflicted. That simply exulted in it. In him.

But that was the part that had started all this. The part that had    looked up into his face in that dark club and surrendered, there and    then. She couldn't succumb to his version of dark magic again. She had    too much to lose.

"You don't understand," she said hurriedly, almost desperately. "This is-you are-" She pulled in a breath. "I'm afraid-"

But she couldn't tell Nikolai Korovin the things she feared. She    couldn't say them out loud, and anyway, this was only a bitter little    game to him. The ways she hated herself, the ways she'd let herself    down, the way she'd destroyed her relationship with her father-he didn't    need to know about any of that.

She couldn't understand why she had the strange urge to tell him anyway, when she'd never told a soul.

It seemed to take him a very long time to pull his head back far enough    to look her in the eyes, to study her too-hot face. Even through her    agitation, she could see him grow somber as he watched her. Darker. He    pushed back from the wall, letting his hands drop to his sides, and    Alicia told herself that was exactly what she'd wanted.

"Good," he said quietly, an expression she couldn't read on his hard    face. "You should be afraid of me. You should have been afraid that    night."

She scowled at him, not caring anymore what he read into it.

"For God's sake," she snapped, not liking that look on his face and not    at all sure why it bothered her so much and so deeply. "I'm not afraid    of you."