When she reached the top step, she could see through the glass door his profile as he sat at the conference table, and without even thinking of surprising him, she snatched open the door and then slammed it shut.
He turned from the papers he’d been reading and looked at her. And at that moment she wished he hadn’t. There was just something about those dark eyes whenever they lit on her that prompted an overpowering sensation to slide all the way up her spine. Of course she was imagining things but for a moment she thought she felt the floor move. Still, to retain her balance, in case she hadn’t imagined it at all, she tightened her fingers on the strap of her purse and placed pressure on the soles of her feet when he stood up.
He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. She hated admitting it, but he looked good in black. It did something to the darkness of his eyes and the tone of his complexion. Just looking at him was such a mind-boggling experience that for a moment she forgot what she was upset about. Until a half smile curved his lips.
Then she quickly remembered.
“What are you doing here, Bas?”
Instead of answering her, he said, “I’m curious about something, Jocelyn.”
At the moment she didn’t give a flip what he was curious about and was hoping her expression told him so. Evidently not, since he then added, “Are you always in such a pleasant mood?”
She gave him a stony look, one that could probably solidify cement in an instant. “You’re going to see just how pleasant I can be if you don’t answer my question. What are you doing here? This office closes at five o’clock.”
His smile widened. “My work hours aren’t dictated by a clock. And as to what I’m doing, I’m still working.”
She glanced at the papers spread out on the table and the stack of files on one of the chairs. She then looked back at him. “Why?”
He lifted a brow. “Why what?”
“Why are you here working this time of night? And not only that, why do you feel the need to? You just got here a week ago.”
“Let’s just say I’m an eager beaver. I believe in getting the job done.”
Angrily, she shook her head and said, “But there isn’t a job here to do. You can go through whatever you want, but you’ll find everything is in order. Like I’ve said, there is no reason for you to be here.”
“And my response to that is still the same,” he said, taking his seat back at the table. “Evidently your father thought otherwise.”
That statement, as usual, triggered Jocelyn’s anger to the boiling point. She crossed the room and slapped her hands, palms down, on the table and leaned in toward him. Their lips were within inches of touching.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. “Be careful about getting too close, Jocelyn. I’m liable to bite.” And then in an even lower voice, he added, “I’m also known to lick, nibble, taste, sample. Should I go on?”
Bas watched as a deep color rose in her cheeks when she got the picture he’d painted. Unfortunately for her she didn’t pull back quick enough and when she unconsciously tilted her head at an angle that brought her mouth even closer, Bas decided to carry out his threat. She was mad anyway, and a little more anger wouldn’t make or break their already fiery relationship.
He locked his mouth to hers before either of them could take their next breath. And he felt her fingers reach out and curl into his shirt the exact moment his tongue entered her mouth. He heard her moan, not in protest but in surrender, and the sound spurred him on.
He had never indulged in a kiss that had made him forget his senses so quickly and so easily. He might have initiated it, but she was certainly adding a delicious topping.
From the taste of things it seemed that he was way over his head and sinking fast without any thoughts of a rescue. But there was only so much of Jocelyn Mason’s passion he could take, and, after giving her tongue one final, passionate suck, he hesitantly pulled back. His gaze stayed glued to her features, and he saw she was dazed and for the moment speechless. But not for long.
“How dare you,” she murmured angrily between moist lips.
“How dare I what? Kiss you or stop kissing you?” he asked, leaning in a little closer. When she didn’t speak up quickly enough for him, he clamped his mouth onto hers again, intent on showing her that he did dare, because from her response it was obvious that she was enjoying the exchange as much as he was. This time he savored her taste at a slow pace, licking, nibbling and tasting. He soon discovered that kissing her slowly wasn’t a good thing because he didn’t want to stop. There was something deeper, different, in her taste this time around. It was more succulent, heated, and it had him devouring her leisurely, at an unhurried pace, yet greedily, as if once the taste was gone, that would be it. It was either now or never.