So he was a heartless businessman, she thought; a girl could do a lot worse than having a fling with a man called Maverick. She smiled up at him and held out one hand. ‘So eat me,’ she said.
It was a day or two later that he gave her the first gift. A blue box appeared on her pillow. ‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘Just a little trinket,’ he answered.
‘You don’t have to buy me things.’
‘I know. Open it.’
‘No,’ she said, holding it out to him. ‘I mean it. You’ve already showered me with clothes. I don’t want you buying me more. There’s no point to it.’
‘You don’t like jewellery?’
‘I don’t need it. And it just seems such a waste, when there are people in the world who can’t afford to eat and you just splash money around as if it doesn’t matter.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Not to me.’
‘But there are people who have absolutely nothing but a few cooking pots and the hope that one day they’ll have something to put in them. Couldn’t you do something more constructive with your money than buy worthless presents for me?’
‘When did you suddenly develop a social conscience?’ he argued impatiently, ripping open the box and pulling out the contents, a gold Tiffany necklace that took her breath away. ‘I bought you this because I wanted to. Indulge me.’
‘But, Maverick—’ she said, still protesting even as he did up the clasp behind her neck.
‘And because I want you to wear it when we make love…’ He pushed her back into the pillows, insinuating himself between her thighs and positioning the pendant with his fingers to exactly the right place between her breasts. ‘So that every time you wear it you think of me, doing this…’
She gasped as he entered her, filling her completely as his dark eyes held hers captive, withdrawing only to slam into her again, building the momentum, driving into her relentlessly, never letting her eyes escape until he’d blown her into starburst.
Two weeks he’d said it would last. Maybe three. But already it had been all of that and his passion showed no sign of abating. They worked together during the day. They slept together at night. But they only achieved either one of them when they weren’t making love.
And her greatest fear had taken on a new and frightening dimension. Now it wasn’t a question of how soon this thing between them would burn out, but whether it would burn out in time.
Tegan lay propped up on her elbows on Maverick’s big bed, watching the steady rise and fall of the chest of the man lying beside her. Morning light filtered through the curtains, turning his bare skin into a study of light and shadow and sheer masculine beauty. She studied his face—the shadowed jaw, the generous mouth, the dark tangle of lashes and brows—and a sizzle of realisation moved through her like a lightning bolt that sucked the air from her chest along with it.
No, whether this thing burned out before Morgan’s return wasn’t her greatest problem at all.
Her problem was far more complicated than that.
Her problem now was that she didn’t want it to end.
God, she was a fool! She’d known she’d be playing with fire when she’d agreed to this deal. She might have tried to convince herself that she was doing Morgan some kind of favour by becoming her boss’s mistress, but Tegan’s motives had been purely selfish. She simply hadn’t been able to resist.
With a sigh she let her head drop back down into the crook of his arm, drinking in the musky scent of male he wore so well while she still could.
Later today he was leaving with Phil Rogerson for Milan to tie up the contract with Zeppabanca once and for all, and even the thought of being parted from him for just a few days was hard enough to bear. How much worse would the sick feeling in her stomach be when he left her for good?
And leave her he would, regardless of what she wanted. He’d as much as promised it. Already she was on borrowed time, and Maverick would drop her cold when it suited him. She was just going to have to deal with the fallout when it happened.
The man beside her stirred. An arm snaked over her and hauled her against his chest with a growl, as warm lips nuzzled against her forehead and a warmer palm found her breast.
‘Maybe you should come to Milan with me after all.’ His fingers teased her sensitive nipple into hardness, while the other hand cupped one cheek of her behind, dragging her closer to his growing hardness.
She laughed thinly, half wishing it could be so, knowing full well it couldn’t be, and only thankful he hadn’t insisted on her accompanying him from the start. ‘You don’t need me to sign a few documents. I’ll be here when you get back.’