He reached his free hand out and she flinched, pushing herself back even farther against the cold half-mirrored wall behind her, the hand rail pressing deeper into her spine. But his touch was gentle, little more than mere fingertips against the line of her cheek and jaw.
So why was it enough to set her flesh aflame? Why did it set her breasts to aching—yearning—fullness?
Her teeth grappled with her bottom lip. The last time they’d been so close it had ended badly. But then she’d imagined he was interested in Morgan. Her sister had soon put paid to that. Which could only mean that for whatever crazy, nonsensical reason he was interested in her—Tegan!
And how was she supposed to fight that?
But then, why should she?
Because Morgan is coming back, a tiny remaining shred of sanity in Tegan’s head insisted. And it’s Morgan who’ll have to live with any consequences.
‘Maverick…’ she pleaded.
He tilted his head, his eyes firmly focused on her mouth. ‘I should thank you,’ he muttered. ‘You saved the deal. I should find some way to repay you.’
‘There’s no need,’ she said too quickly, looking to the side, thinking she could just slip along the back wall of the lift and get some breathing space.
His free hand landed in front of her face, cutting off her escape, imprisoning her in the cage of his arms and drawing her closer with the vacuum of his heat. ‘I could at the very least say thank you.’
She turned to look at him, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Brooding magnetism and ‘angel of doom’ qualities stared back at her. And she knew she was doomed.
‘So say it,’ she whispered breathlessly, recognising a stab of disappointment that all this build-up could lead to nothing more than a gravelly thank you, but wanting nothing more than to end this loaded anticipation if it was to lead nowhere. Logically there was nowhere for it to go.
He lifted one hand from the wall to curl one finger under her chin, angling her head higher. ‘But mere thanks hardly seems enough for what you’ve done.’
Blood rushed loud in her ears, a sensual thumping that slowed her thoughts and reactions, and threatened to swamp logic entirely.
And meanwhile the lift slid inexorably skywards, up to where the air was thinner. Already she was feeling the effects—the dizziness, the congealed thought processes. It had to be the altitude.
‘Then…’ she ventured uncertainly, wishing for an end to the suspense—to the anticipation. ‘Then, what?’
His face was like a mask, all stillness, its harsh angles and planes held together by a dark, brooding magnetism that screamed control but looked set to snap. Only his eyes betrayed the turmoil going on inside—dark and filled with heat and burning with desire—desire for her. It was all she could do not to launch herself into their molten depths.
He dropped his elbows to the lift wall, framing her face with his forearms, his face hovering just above hers, his warm breath mingling with hers. Her breasts pressed into his chest, the slightest movement setting up a delicious friction that charged them to an aching tautness, turning her already tight nipples bullet-hard.
‘Then…this.’
His lips met hers—not so much a kiss as a caress. She melted into him on a sigh. A sigh of relief. A sigh of homecoming.
And it was exactly like coming home. It was like finding your way back to somewhere special and knowing you never wanted to leave again.
If he’d been rougher, if he’d been forceful, she might have found cause to resist—but as it was he moved his mouth so gently; so warmly did he share this meeting of lips that there was nothing to endure, nothing to resist. Only to welcome. His tongue traced the line of her teeth, invited hers into the dance, and she trembled into his mouth. Instinctively she reached out her hands, needing to find purchase on something solid lest her knees give way and her legs buckle beneath her.
A pinging noise brought her back to reality, reminding her of where they were. With a cushioned bump the lift came to a halt and the doors hissed open. He lifted his mouth a fraction, his forehead resting on hers, his breath ragged. ‘Oh my God,’ he rasped, and Tegan knew without doubt that he was experiencing the same overwhelming sensations as she.
Then in one deft movement he scooped her up into his arms and, without saying a word, carried her from the lift. She gasped, at once shocked and yet grateful, certain she would never have managed to exit the lift on her shaky legs. The sheer thrill of being swept up into his strong arms—her body cradled next to his, the thump of his heartbeat reverberating through her body—was intoxicatingly heady. So heady that she barely registered that he’d failed to stop to let her down next to her work station. He didn’t stop at the anteroom beyond, and when he swept her purposefully through his own office she began to have an uncomfortable sense that maybe today Maverick intended on finishing up what he’d been denied before.