One brawny hand released her, and she heard the sibilant hiss of the lock being turned behind her. A delicious shudder of anticipation heated her blood. This was not what she had come here for. She looked up into fevered brown eyes staring down at her and felt seared by his potent magnetism. Her heartbeat hammering in her ears, she couldn't tell if the pulse she felt pumping came from his chest or hers. Her reaction to him was so swift and violent that she almost couldn't believe it. Certainly nothing in her past experience had come even remotely close to the overwhelming way that he made her feel.
Her eyes dropped to the base of his throat. It was tanned and laced with sinewy muscle, an obvious pulse showing where the blood pumped swiftly through his veins. He was invading her personal space as if it were his due; his legs were braced apart on either side of hers, holding her trapped. He pressed his body so closely against hers that she could feel his pulsing arousal. His erection against her was hard and hot and it inflamed her senses to a dangerous degree.
"Giving up so easily?" His voice was brusque and arrogant as he slid his free hand into her hair and lifted her face, controlling her easily, allowing her no movement to turn away from him, even had she wanted to.
His words brought her back to herself; she wasn't here to engage in a bout of afternoon sex with him. Truly, she wasn't, even if she had to force herself to remember that. She was here to tell him about his mother and she needed to focus on that. "No."
"No?" As if the conversation they were having and what their bodies were doing were two different things, he slid his leg between hers with a quick, jerky movement, forcing her thighs apart. "You want to play more mind games with me?"
The feel of his steely-muscled thigh wedged against her most intimate spot almost blew her away. Her communication skills dropped to almost nothing as she parroted his words back to him. "Mind games?"
He dropped his hand from her chin and it landed on her breast, finding and squeezing her nipple. Sensation exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors. "Mind games, you little witch. Why are you here if you're not giving up?"
Angie felt the brush of his thumb against her nipple as a damp heat flooded her panties. "I have . . . I have something to tell you," she managed to mumble, vaguely recognizing that there was a subject about his mother that needed discussing, but not having a clue what it was since her brain was so jumbled.
His mouth fell to her ear. "I have something to tell you, too." The rush of his hot breath against her inner ear sent shivers of delight to the pit of her stomach and his next words almost made her faint. "I want to strip you naked and fuck you from behind." His hands slid between them and with rapid movements, began unfastening the front enclosure of her pants. "But first I'm going to fuck you with my tongue until you scream."
He began pushing her pants down her hips almost violently, and her heart thundered, her skin prickled with the hazy memory of something he'd previously said to her. "Wait--"
He cut her off with his lips on hers, his tongue delving deep into the interior of her mouth, making gooseflesh rise on her skin as sexual need, hot and heavy, held her in its grip. She couldn't catch her breath as he stroked her tongue with his, and with both panic and arousal, Angie felt the material of her pants slide down to her knees.
Impatiently, he pulled her panties to the side, and in sync with the next stroke of his tongue, Angie felt herself impaled by a thick, blunt finger. At the impact, her body arched, and he took immediate advantage and pushed further inside. Her body held his finger snugly, and she adjusted her stance minutely, to give him more room. The back of her head hit the door as her legs weakened and her knees shook as he claimed her with his hands.
His mouth left hers and with his finger finding and stroking a sweet spot deep inside her, her eyes opened and she found him staring at her, his nostrils flaring.
Explosive currents of need raced through her, her heart hammering so strongly it almost hurt. The blood pounded in her veins and coalesced in the spot deep inside where he stroked her. Her eyes began to close again and when she heard his threatening growl, they flew open. "Don't shut me out while I make you come."
There was something in that demand that sent a strong arrow of trepidation bleeding through the pleasure Angie was feeling. Abruptly, the warning he'd given her before began blaring through her head in a series of alarm bells. She stared at him and then shook her head, "No." He seemed to only want sex, but all she could hear was the silken thread of caution reverberating through her memory. It wouldn't be just fucking with you and me. If you ever made the mistake of sleeping with me, it wouldn't be just sex. So, I'm warning you now. I'd own you.
His lips curled over his teeth in a snarl, "No, what?"
"I don't want you to make me come." As she said it, she began pushing at him, trying to get free, her brain functioning again, for the moment at least, overruling the needs of her body. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever tried to do, but she had a sudden, overwhelming need to listen to her brain and not her libido.
An enraged snarl left his throat as she sank both of her hands around his arm, trying to dislodge him from her body. He pushed against her for the space of two seconds before pulling away from the juncture of her thighs.
The immediate sexual threat was gone but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, his hands sank into her hair and held her scalp strongly, his fingers biting into her. He stared down at her with accusing, molten eyes and his words were laced with icy contempt, "Are you being a tease on purpose? Did you come here with the intention of playing a fucking game with me? Because I assure you, I don't like it."
His eyes riveted her to the spot. His jaw was clenched; there was a visible tic in his cheek and he looked as if he could attack at any moment. She licked her suddenly dry lips and shook her head with a jerky movement. "It's your . . . your mother."
His eyes narrowed. "What about my mother?"
"I came here to tell you . . . " Angie sucked in a breath and tried to calm her raging heartbeat. "I came here to tell you that she came to see me."
His curt voice deepened, "When was this?"
"A few days ago. She made an appointment for next week, for me to do her hair. But she was very clear that she wants to talk about us."
"Us?"
Angie nodded before she could form a reply. "You and me."
His grip lessened infinitesimally and she could see his brain ticking. "That's why you're here? In my office?"
She nodded her head again. "I don't know what you want me to say to her. I don't want to carry on with more untruths. But she's your mother and this is really your call."
He pulled back from her, removing his hands from her scalp but not moving away from her. One finger slid down her cheek before he put his forearms on either side of her head in an enclosure she couldn't escape. His expression stilled and grew somber. "Do I owe you an apology?"
The question itself sounded contrite to Angie, and her heart rate came down a notch. "I think we're okay."
"I was rough on you," he said smoothly, with no expression showing on his features, but the words themselves soothed her.
"It's all right." After a slight pause, her hands landed lightly on his hips, both because she missed the connection and to show she held no animosity.
His hand left the door and settled around her chin, lifting it gently. "I'm having a hard time staying away from you," he said, as if admitting his greatest sin.
Stunned by his honesty, Angie didn't try to contain her answer, "I'm having a hard time, too."
He stroked her bottom lip as his face grew taut. "Maybe we should do something about it."
She flushed and shook her head, keenly aware of his scrutiny. "You tripped me up with the verbal warning the other day."
His forehead fell to hers and he whispered, "It was a lame attempt to scare you away."
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. "I think it worked."
"Forget what I said."
At his words, the air around them electrified, but she tried to hold onto her sanity. "I don't know if I can. You seemed pretty serious at the time."
"I was pissed at my mother that day and I took it out on you."
Angie didn't know if she quite believed him but her curiosity was roused.
His hand ran up her cheekbone before sliding down to touch her lip again. A shiver ran through her but she pretended not to be affected. "So what are you saying?" she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant attitude that she didn't quite believe was nonchalant at all. "We don't have to let anything get out of hand," he said in a controlled voice, but not really answering her question.
Was he trying to talk her into something, just as he'd warned he might? She swallowed hard and asked, "And by that, you mean, nothing serious has to happen between us?"
His finger continued to scrape back and forth across her bottom lip. "Nothing serious."
She felt another ripple of excitement. She didn't know if she believed him, though. "Casual?"
He looked as if the word pained him, but he agreed quickly enough. "Sure."
"What about your mother?"
He scanned her critically. "What about her?"