His Brand of Passion

Dear lord, she was more than ready. Even if she was still scared and uncertain and so desperately wanted this to work. Her mouth still brushing his, she nodded.

Zoe thought she would enjoy the party more than she did: champagne and fancy appetisers; amusing and glamorous people; and, best of all, Aaron by her side, his hand on her elbow, his body so tantalisingly near…which was why she could hardly wait to leave.

All she could think about was what would happen after the party. She imagined them riding home in Aaron’s limo; going up the lift to his penthouse, and stepping into that darkened penthouse, the lights of Manhattan spread all around them in a glittering map.

And then…

‘So you’re a therapist?’

Zoe jerked her mind back to the conversation she’d been having with several socialites. ‘An art therapist.’

‘I didn’t know there was such a thing.’

Briefly she described her work, sensing their scepticism, and then to her surprise Aaron jumped in. ‘It’s especially effective with children. They’re much more likely to be able to communicate their feelings through pictures than words.’

Zoe stared at him in surprise while the two glamorous women nodded. ‘I guess that makes sense.’

Only because a gorgeous billionaire had told them, she thought cynically. When she and Aaron were alone, sipping champagne, she gave him a teasing look over the rim of her crystal flute. ‘You sounded pretty certain back there.’

He shrugged. ‘I guess I’m converted.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘Really? How?’

‘You’re very passionate about what you do and believe. I admire that.’

‘Passionate,’ Zoe repeated, and saw Aaron’s eyes flare with heat.

‘Passionate,’ he agreed huskily. ‘Now, how about we get out of here?’

She could only nod. Her heart had started thudding and her palms were slick. Now it would happen. Finally.

Aaron took their glasses and deposited them on a waiter’s tray. Then he was taking her by the elbow and whisking her out of the party into the crisp autumn night. The limo was waiting as always, and as Zoe slid in she felt her first attack of nerves. Stupid, maybe, when they’d already slept together. This wasn’t the first time.

Yet it felt like the first time, because it was so different now. At least, she wanted it to be different. She wanted it to feel like more, to mean more.

Yet she was still afraid it might not.

‘You look nervous,’ Aaron said and took her hand.

Zoe tried to smile. ‘I am,’ she admitted. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be, but—’

‘I’m a bit nervous, too.’

Zoe let out a shocked laugh. She could hardly believe Aaron could ever be nervous about anything. He certainly looked relaxed sitting there, his legs stretched out, one arm resting on the seat above her head. ‘You are not,’ she said.

‘Well, I must admit anticipation trumps any nervousness. I feel like I’ve been waiting a long time for this.’

‘So do I,’ she whispered.

They didn’t speak again as they arrived at his building, and just as she’d imagined they rode up in the lift in a silence that was tense with expectation. Zoe could feel her heart beating so hard she wondered if Aaron could hear its thud, or see the pounding underneath the thin silk of her evening gown.

The doors swooshed open; Aaron took her by the hand and led her into the darkened apartment. Her dress whispered against her bare legs as he drew her to him, his hands framing her face in a way that was so achingly tender, infinitely gentle.

He kissed her once, softly, barely a brush of his lips against hers. Zoe sighed in surrender.

And then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

It almost seemed like a joke. It was certainly fitting, considering the nature of their first meeting. She felt Aaron tense, felt his hand leave her face and reach for his pocket.

‘Aaron,’ she said desperately, because she had a terrible instinct that if he took that call their night would be over. And maybe she should be understanding; he had a high-pressured job and this was, after all, only one night.

But it was an important night, a defining moment, and Zoe felt all her uncertainties and fears rise up in her as she put her hand over Aaron’s, trapping it before he could reach his phone.

‘Don’t.’

‘Zoe, it could be important—’

‘Could be,’ she repeated, her fingers twining with his. ‘And this is important, Aaron, isn’t it? What’s happening between us?’

His voice was low and rough with want. ‘Of course it is.’

‘Then please, just leave it for a few hours. Surely it can wait?’

‘And you can’t?’ He spoke tonelessly, but she knew what he was asking her. Was she giving him an ultimatum?

Zoe hesitated. She didn’t want to be demanding; she wanted to make this work. But neither was she willing to accept what little Aaron had to give, or set a precedent where everything but her came first.

‘No,’ she said finally. ‘I can’t.’

Aaron hesitated. Zoe held her breath. Had she just made a huge mistake? Had she ruined everything already by pushing yet again? And yet it had been necessary…hadn’t it?

The phone buzzed again.

After a tense and endless moment Aaron removed his hand from hers. He took his phone out of his pocket and without looking at it tossed it onto a chair. ‘There.’

‘Thank you,’ Zoe said, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, another brush of the lips, but Aaron took it and made it his own, deepening it so his tongue thrust into her mouth and Zoe felt as if her soul had been set on fire.

There was a raw urgency to Aaron’s kiss, to his hands, as he unzipped her dress and slid it from her shoulders. He kissed her mouth, her throat, and then moved lower to kiss her breasts, slipping aside the scrappy lace of her bra.

Zoe gasped at the feel of his mouth, so cool and hard, hot and soft all at once, on her bare flesh. She rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as he moved lower, slipping the dress down her hips and legs, his mouth following a blazing trail.

‘Aaron…’

‘I need you, Zoe. I need you so much.’ The words were raw, a guttural confession that Zoe knew Aaron meant—even if he didn’t want to. And, while need wasn’t love, it was something. It was a start.

She kicked the dress away from her high-heel-shod feet as Aaron sank to her knees in front of her. She swayed where she stood as her hands clenched around his shoulders and his mouth found the hot, pulsing centre of her.

‘Aaron…’ she said again, amazed at how quickly he could bring her to that precipice of pleasure. Already she felt the first waves of her climax crashing over her, and she was helpless to stop it. Her knees buckled as she cried out and Aaron swept his arm under her legs, carrying her easily to the bedroom.

His eyes were dark, his face almost savage with intent desire as he stripped off his tuxedo so he was gloriously naked, all hard, taut muscle and sleek skin. Zoe reached for him.

The press of his naked body against hers had her gasping aloud from the sheer, intense joy of it, and as he kissed her, his hands moving over her body, his fingers finding her secret, sensitive places, Zoe found her body straining towards another climax.

‘You’re going to kill me,’ she gasped and he laughed low in his throat as his fingers slid inside her.

‘It would be a good way to go.’

‘Yes, it would,’ she agreed, and with a superhuman effort—because what he was doing felt so amazingly good—she slipped out from under him and pushed him onto his back. ‘But this isn’t a one-man show, you know.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

And then it was her turn to explore him, every kiss and caress evoking a shuddering response that had her thrilling with seductive power—and a far greater emotion. Love.

She loved him. She’d been fighting against it, lecturing herself not to, and yet here it was, pure, simple and so very right. The doubts fell away and as Aaron finally rolled her over and entered her in one pure stroke, Zoe felt tears come to her eyes.

Just as before his gaze locked with hers and she felt the moment of raw need stretch and grow into something greater, something more powerful than pleasure.

‘I love you,’ she whispered and Aaron tensed above her, his face a mask, but Zoe didn’t care. She felt, in that moment, that her love would be enough. She put her arms around him and arched upwards as he drove into her again, filling her up into completion. ‘I love you,’ she said again, and Aaron didn’t answer.

He buried his face in her neck as he moved inside her, and then Zoe couldn’t think or worry about his silence because she was swept away on a tide of pleasure too great to resist, too wonderful to worry about anything else.

Aaron lay in his bed, his arm around Zoe’s shoulders, his heart thundering in his chest.

I love you.

The words had humbled him, felled him, because no one had ever said them to him before. Not his father, who had lectured him about responsibility and duty; not his mother, who had been too wrapped up in her own misery. Not a woman, for the women he’d been with before, if they’d deluded themselves that they cared about him at all, would certainly have known better than to say as much.

But Zoe was different. And he was different with Zoe, because when she’d said those three words he’d wanted to hear them. He’d received them with a kind of dazed joy, even if he wasn’t sure if he could say them back. He still didn’t know if he had that depth of emotion in him.