He looked resolutely ahead, the set of his jaw firm, his expression grim, and a thread of panic wound through her and yanked tight.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Somewhere private, where we won’t be disturbed.’ Without letting go of her, he turned a door handle, kicking open the door in front of them.
‘Maverick!’ she protested, squirming in arms that held her like prison bonds close to him. ‘I don’t think this is such a good idea.’
‘Right now, I can’t think of a better one.’
He had a point. But, while her body applauded his initiative, a part of her registered the core truth. It still didn’t make it a good idea. This could never be a good idea.
He marched her through a large sitting-room that, like his office, overlooked the glorious stretch of beach that made up the long golden sweep of the Gold Coast. But this was hardly the time to appreciate the vista, not when he was heading still deeper into his private suite.
‘Put me down. This is a mistake!’
‘There’s no mistake,’ he replied, his voice sounding strained and dangerous. ‘But I’ll put you down, seeing you ask so nicely.’
It wasn’t the easy setting-down on the floor she’d been anticipating. With a strangled cry she felt herself launched through the air, landing with a thud in the middle of the wide, silken-covered monster of a bed, and she only just caught his jacket being tossed lazily in the other direction.
He placed one knee on the bed and looked down at her, his eyes like dark fire, his hands at his shirt cuffs popping his buttons free before starting on his shirt front, working his way down, button by button.
‘Oh, no,’ she said, scurrying for the edge of the bed, even as a thrill of arousal shimmied through her blood.
She had to get out of here. So why did her muscles feel so unresponsive? Why was she so loath to leave this bed? And why did such a delicious heat curl warm and damp between her thighs?
He reefed out his shirt from his pants and hauled it off. This time her gasp was one of appreciation. He was simply beautiful, his chest and shoulders every bit as magnificent as they’d felt, his sculpted torso an artist’s delight. And every woman’s.
‘You felt it back there,’ he whispered, not letting go of the laser-like hold on her eyes. ‘You felt what was happening between us in that lift.’
‘It was just a kiss,’ she pleaded, knowing she was lying, knowing he knew it.
‘It was more than just a kiss,’ he argued, dropping his hands to his waist.
Oh God!
There was no air in the room, no oxygen, and no hope for her unless she did something soon. She forced herself to the side of the bed farthest away, pushing herself up on shaky legs.
‘But that doesn’t mean…’
He rounded the bed to cut her off. He took one of her trembling hands and pressed it to his lips. ‘It means you want me.’ He hesitated a fraction as he stared down at her, before taking her hand and moving it lower until her fingers cupped his length. Breath dragged through his teeth as her fingers found purchase. He was so big, so hard, the power evident. Power waiting to be unleashed within her.
‘And, God knows,’ he hissed, as she couldn’t help but test his firmness with her hand, ‘I want you.’
His mouth descended to hers once more as he crushed her to him, and she shuddered into the truth of his all-powerful embrace.
And it felt so right. It was so welcoming; so welcome and so right.
But even as his hands stirred her body, sweeping up and down in a sensual dance of persuasion, tears of futility squeezed from her eyes.
Another time, in other circumstances, and things would have been different; she could have acted to satisfy this desperate yearning, this desperate need which saw her abandoning everything she’d ever thought of love or romance. It was insane; she’d known this man just two days and here she was so close to giving herself up to him. She wanted to give herself up to him. But it was too quick, it was too passionate, and it was too all-consuming.
It was madness.
A madness she couldn’t give in to—not now, not with Maverick. Not when she was supposed to be someone else, and that someone else would be returning to this job, never expecting the mess Tegan would have been leaving for her.
‘I can’t do this,’ she pleaded.
‘But you want this,’ he soothed, his tongue laving her throat, stirring her senses like nothing she’d ever known before. ‘You want me inside you.’
Yes! she wanted to scream, shocked at her own wantonness but still coherent enough to know that if she admitted anything she was lost.
‘No,’ she lied, searching for new stocks of resolve just as quickly as it flowed out of her. ‘I don’t want you. I want you to stop.’