She lifted her chin and glared. “I’m not sure you understand what happens when men let their cocks do the talking for them in the work place—”
His hands tightened into bands of steel. “If you ever flirt with that motherfucker again, so help me God—”
She kept up with the change of subject without batting an eye. “I didn’t flirt with him, but I can and will flirt with whoever the hell I want—”
“Not if I have anything to say about it, you won’t.”
“What are you going to do about it?” she threw out the challenge, ignoring the trace of heat trickling along her nerve endings and focusing only on her anger.
His fingers bit into the flesh of her shoulders. His gaze dropped to the tiny hint of cleavage that was on display and his eyes lit with impressive fire. His torso came a few inches closer, obliterating the last bit of personal space she had left. He bared his teeth, and an uncontrolled look of rage filled his features.
His eyes lifted to her lips, and he began lowering his head. Just when she thought that his lips would land on hers, he startled her completely with the downward swoop of his head. Holding her shoulders in place against the door, his mouth landed on the top swell of her breast, which was plumped up by her push-up bra. Pushing the material of her blouse aside with his jaw, his lips came back to her naked skin. He began sucking with a force that sent shooting tendrils of heat down her spine, all but wiping out any vestige of brain power she might have had left. Heat, instant and liquefying, shot through her breasts, straight to her nipples, pebbling them into hardened points.
He moved one hand from her arm down to her neglected breast, and he found her nipple as quickly as a missile finding its target. He began manipulating it in time with the suction of his lips, causing fire, all-encompassing and urgent, to land at the juncture between her thighs, softening her to a trembling mass of feminine need.
Her thought process splintered; she began to drown under a wave of lust unlike anything in her previous experience. Nothing had ever felt like this; nobody had ever felt like this. In the back of her mind, she knew she was playing into his hands and should put a stop to it. But for the moment, at least, she was unable to do anything except feel.
Maria was rudely awakened from his erotic spell by the low vibration coming from his chest, and the feel of his hand dropping to the enclosure of his pants, his intent evident.
Dawning panic and self-preservation forced her brain into functioning again, so she put her hands to his chest and began pushing with all her might, and to her relief, he let her go and seemed to shake himself.
He took three steps backwards as they stared at each other, both wildly trying to control the oxygen coming in and out of their lungs. His gaze held hers with an emotion that he kept simmering below the surface, until his eyes dropped to her breasts and his features were transformed by a look of pure satisfaction. The expression on his face sending a shiver down her spine, Maria glanced down and saw the purple bruise he’d left on her skin.
Sucking in a frantic breath at the sight of it, she whirled around, fumbling for the door handle, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there. His words stopped her and she froze in place.
“I saw the expression in that motherfucker’s eyes when he looked at you. I didn’t like it, got that? Stay out of his fucking path, Maria, you understand me? Fucker looks like he eats little girls like you for breakfast and you’re not going to be his next goddamn meal, got it?”
She stood facing the door, her back to him, while she tried to breath. It took several seconds, but finally, she was able to regulate her oxygen intake. Not turning around, not deigning to answer him, she walked from his office and shut the door with nothing more than a soft click.
Maria didn’t stop until she was upstairs in her private suite. Walking into the bathroom, she pressed the switch until the small room was flooded with bright light. Swallowing hard, she opened the button she’d hurriedly put back into place on her way up. Now, she stood staring at the mark Garret had left on her breast. The mark he’d purposely left on her breast.
Studying the bruise and not understanding the way it was making her insides quiver with butterflies, she began to question her sanity where he was concerned. She ran her trembling fingers over the splash of out-of-place color on her otherwise unblemished skin.
Why was she doing the things she was doing? Why was she taking these chances with him? Granted, there hadn’t been a thing she could do about the visitor he’d had or the way the man had reacted to her, but what had induced her to dress up just to rile Garrett? And even more disturbing than that . . . why did she know in her heart that she was going to do dress up again tomorrow?