Bared to You (Crossfire 1)

In a daze, I watched Cross's body lower to mine, my legs sliding apart to accommodate the width of his hips. My muscles strained with the urge to lift toward him, to hasten the contact between us that I'd been craving since I first laid eyes on him. Lowering his head, he took my mouth again, bruising my lips with a fine edge of violence.

Abruptly, he yanked himself away, stumbling to his feet.

I lay there gasping and wet, so willing and ready. Then I realized why he'd reacted so fiercely.

Someone was behind him.

Chapter 4

Mortified by the sudden intrusion into our privacy, I scrambled up and back into the armrest, yanking down my skirt.

"...two o'clock appointment is here."

It took an endless moment to realize Cross and I were still alone in the room, that the voice I'd heard had come through a speaker. Cross stood at the far end of the sofa, flushed and scowling, his chest heaving. His tie was loosened and the fly of his slacks strained against a very impressive erection.

I had a nightmare vision in my head of what I must look like. And I was late getting back to work.

"Christ." He shoved both hands through his hair. "It's the middle of the f**king day. In my goddamn f**king office!"

I got to my feet and tried to straighten my appearance.

"Here." He came to me, yanking my skirt up again.

Furious at what I'd almost let happen when I should be at work, I smacked at his hands. "Stop it. Leave me alone."

"Shut up, Eva," he said grimly, catching the hem of my black silk blouse and tugging it into place, adjusting it so that the buttons once again formed a straight row between my br**sts. Then he pulled down my skirt, smoothing it with calm, expert hands. "Fix your ponytail."

Cross retrieved his coat, shrugging into it before adjusting his tie. We reached the door at the same time and when I crouched to fetch my purse, he lowered with me.

He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Hey," he said softly. "You okay?"

My throat burned. I was aroused and mad and thoroughly embarrassed. I'd never in my life lost my mind like that. And I hated that I'd done so with him, a man whose approach to sexual intimacy was so clinical it depressed me just thinking about it.

I jerked my chin away. "Do I look okay?"

"You look beautiful and f**kable. I want you so badly it hurts. I'm dangerously close to taking you back to the couch and making you come 'til you beg me to stop."

"Can't accuse you of being silver-tongued," I muttered, aware that I wasn't offended. In fact, the rawness of his hunger for me was a serious aphrodisiac. Clutching the strap of my purse, I stood on shaky legs. I needed to get away from him. And, when my workday was done, I needed to be alone with a big glass of wine.

Cross stood with me. "I'll be done by five. I'll come get you then."

"No, you won't. This doesn't change anything."

"The hell it doesn't."

"Don't be arrogant, Cross. I lost my head for a second, but I still don't want what you want."

His fingers curled around the door handle. "Yes, you do. You just don't want it the way I want to give it to you. So, we'll revisit and revise."

More business. Cut-and-dried. My spine stiffened.

I set my hand over his and yanked on the handle, ducking under his arm to squeeze out the door. His secretary shoved quickly to his feet, gaping, as did the woman and two men who were waiting for Cross. I heard him speak behind me.

"Scott will show you into my office. I'll be just a moment."

He caught me by reception, his arm crossing my lower back to grip my hip. Not wanting to make a scene, I waited until we were by the elevators to pull away.

He stood calmly and hit the call button. "Five o'clock, Eva."

I stared at the lighted button. "I'm busy."

"Tomorrow, then."

"I'm busy all weekend."

Stepping in front of me, he asked tightly, "With whom?"

"That's none of your - "

His hand covered my mouth. "Don't. Tell me when, then. And before you say never, take a good look at me and tell me if you see a man who's easily deterred."

His face was hard, his gaze narrowed and determined. I shivered. I wasn't sure I'd win a battle of wills with Gideon Cross.

Swallowing, I waited until he lowered his hand and said, "I think we both need to cool off. Take a couple days to think."

He persisted. "Monday after work."

The elevator arrived and I stepped into it. Facing him, I countered, "Monday lunch."

We'd have only an hour, a guaranteed escape.

Just before the doors closed, he said, "We're going to happen, Eva."

It sounded as much like a threat as a promise.

"Don't sweat it, Eva," Mark said, when I arrived at my desk nearly a quarter after two. "You didn't miss anything. I had a late lunch with Mr. Leaman. I just barely got back myself."

"Thank you." No matter what he said, I still felt terrible. My kick-ass Friday morning seemed to have happened days ago.

We worked steadily until five, discussing a fast-food client and contemplating some possible tweaks to ad copy for a chain of organic grocery stores.

"Talk about strange bedfellows," Mark had teased, not knowing how apt that was in regard to my personal life.

I'd just shut down my computer and was pulling my purse out of the drawer when my phone rang. I glanced at the clock, saw it was exactly five, and considered ignoring the call because I was technically done for the day.

But since I was still feeling shitty about my overly-long lunch, I considered it penance and answered. "Mark Garrity's - "