Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation

‘For heaven’s sake, why would I kiss you if I—? Oh.’ She stopped abruptly and nodded. ‘You think I just went from you to him. Hence the cheap slut reference.’ She shook her head as if she was truly stupid. ‘Sorry, I’m a slow learner. Maybe you can add dumb blonde to my list of credentials? That’s if you haven’t done it already, of course.’

Tristan moved as quickly as a striking snake and reached down to pull her to her feet. ‘Stop. Trying. To. Garner. My. Sympathies. You took a chance. It didn’t come off. Now, deal with it.’

Lily tried to pull her hands free, and then stopped when she realised it was a futile waste of energy. Her eyes blazed into his. ‘I don’t know what ever made me think I could reason with you,’ she bit out, adrenaline coursing through her veins. ‘You know what? Go to hell. All you do is judge me and I’ve had it. You’ve never wanted the truth where I’m concerned and—oof!’

The air left her body as Tristan pulled her hard up against him and covered her mouth with his own. She tasted anger and frustration—and something else. Something that called to her. Something that left her mind reeling. After a token struggle she felt her resistance ebb away. Her brain simply shut down, leaving her body and her heart firmly in charge, and both, it seemed, craved his touch more than air.

Tristan knew it was a mistake as soon as he did it—but, seriously, just how much self-control did she think he possessed? Did she never give up? Standing there, glorious in her anger, her eyes sparkling like cabochon amethysts.

She shoved against him and tried to twist her mouth away, but Tristan wound her ponytail around his fist and held her head fast. Some distant part of his brain tried reminding him that he didn’t behave like this. That he didn’t shut women up with his mouth like some Neolithic cave dweller.

But it was too late. He’d been hungry for the taste of her all day, and something far more primitive than logic and civility was riding him now.

She moaned, her hands pushing against his shoulders, and he immediately gentled the pressure of his mouth. A voice in his head was telling him to stop. That now he was behaving like a jerk. That he hated this woman whose mouth felt like hot velvet under his.

She represented everything wrong with mankind. She took drugs, she partied hard, she was self-centered, self-absorbed—like his mother. Just when he might have had a chance of pulling away her fingernails curled into his shoulders, no longer pushing him away but drawing him closer, and he was lost.

He eased the hand in her hair and pressed his other one to her lower back, to bring her into firmer contact with his body, and delighted in her responsive quiver.

Right now he didn’t give a damn about parties and drugs. Right now he was satisfying an urge that had started six years ago and got a whole lot worse today. He felt a groan rise up from his chest as her lips moved almost shyly beneath his. He wanted her. Hell, his body was aching with it. And he knew by the way her fingers clutched at his shirt that she felt the feral chemistry between them as intensely as he did.

He softened his lips even more and felt hers cling.

‘Open your mouth, Honey,’ he urged. ‘I need to taste you.’

She obeyed instantly, and his tongue slid home and drank from her as if she was the finest wine. Only she tasted better. Sweeter than he remembered. He nearly expired at the shocking pleasure that jack-knifed through his body. She was like ambrosia to his senses, and he was once again reminded how men could start wars over a woman. And then he lost the ability to think at all as her tongue snuck into his mouth and she raised herself onto her toes to deepen the contact between them.

It was all the encouragement Tristan needed, and he widened his stance to take more of her weight, burning up when she rubbed her full breasts against his chest. Her soft, breathy whimpers incited him never to stop this crazy dance. His hands were unsteady as they skimmed down her torso, skating over her breasts and pulling her restless hips more firmly against his almost painful arousal.

She gasped and pressed even closer, buried her hands in his over-long hair.

Tristan couldn’t contain another groan, and his hands rose up to push her cumbersome cardigan aside so that he could palm her breasts with both hands. She arched into him and his thumbs flicked over her peaked nipples. His senses revelled in her soft cries of pleasure. His lips drifted down over her neck as he dragged oxygen into his starved lungs, and he slid one hand down to delve underneath the elastic waistband of her tight leggings to cup her bottom. Her skin felt gloriously smooth and hot, and there was no thought of stopping now. He’d wanted this for too long, and he knew when he touched between her legs she’d be wet and wanting…

The strident buzz of his intercom resounded through the room like a death knell, and Tristan sprang back from Lily as if he’d been kicked.

‘Tristan, I know you said no interruptions, but Jordana is on line one and threatening legal action if you don’t take her call.’ His secretary’s humorous voice rang out clear, despite the blood roaring in his ears.

Hell. Everyone was a comedian all of a sudden.

‘Tristan?’

‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘Tell her I’ll be a minute.’

He watched Lily blink a couple of times, her hands on her heaving chest, her eyes hidden as she contemplated the foot of black carpet between them as if it was a seething pit of snakes. Her lips were deeply pink and swollen from his kisses.

He shook his head at his own stupidity.

He wasn’t some hotheaded youth at the mercy of his untried hormones. What had he been thinking?

He noted the rise of hot colour that started at her neck and swept into her face. He didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or desire.

‘Hell,’ he seethed, stalking back round to his side of the desk, raking his fingers through his hair. He willed his body to calm down. ‘We are not going to do this. You are not going to look at me with that come-hither sexiness. You want to know what happens next? I’ll tell you. You sit over there on that sofa and you don’t move. You don’t talk and you don’t whine. The only thing you’re allowed to do without me is go to the bathroom, and if I think you’re up to no good in there you’ll lose that privilege as well. Is that clear enough for you?’

‘Crystal,’ she snapped, straightening her clothing and pulling her cardigan tightly around her body.

She touched her tongue to her lips and another shaft of desire shot into his aching groin. Then she raised her chin and looked at him with over-bright eyes, and once again he felt like the jerk she’d called him earlier.

‘You know,’ she began softly, ‘Jordana thinks you’re one of the good guys. Boy, does she have that wrong.’