Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress

Her chest tightened. So he wanted it to go away. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. But he was—just as she was attracted to him. He wanted to work it through and be rid of it. She suppressed the shiver that ran through her body—a mix of desire and of despair.

He unclipped his safety belt, got a couple of soft wool blankets from the locker and sat again. Reached across and unclipped her belt too.

‘Let’s get you comfortable, hmm?’ He spread one blanket out over her and the other over himself. The two overlapped. ‘Can’t have you getting cold.’ He smiled, oblivious to the mix of hurt and heat she felt inside.

But as he drew closer it was the heat that spread, the desire to have him even closer still. His eyes were huge and seemed to read hers, seemed to know exactly what she was thinking—because they reflected it.

‘You warm enough?’ It was a whisper, spoken as his lips lowered. Still not quite close enough. And she was so focused on them, on willing them nearer, that she couldn’t manage to give the answer that was undoubtedly obvious anyway.

‘Princess?’

She lifted her chin and tasted his smile as she pressed her lips to his.

She meant to play it cool. She meant to stay in control. She meant to hide just how hot she was—how hot she thought he was—and try to find out how affected he was. But her mouth parted hungrily without her consent. Welcoming his wickedly teasing tongue once more, wanting him to work it the way he had the other day—and then some. His hands were firm on her jaw, fingers spread, holding her face up to his.

Broad palms and long fingers meant he easily cupped her chin and sent fingers down the length of her throat. In a second the kiss was hot and deep and she was shaking with the joy of having him back inside— she wanted more of him inside.

Too soon he lifted his head. He studied her. She couldn’t hide the way her breathing was fast and out of kilter.

‘Not getting too excited, there, are you, princess?’ he said, half-smile in place. ‘It was just a kiss.’

Nothing of the sort. He knew it. She knew it. He was just proving how hollow her words of the other night had been. But he couldn’t blame a woman for wanting to salvage a little pride, could he? Not when he’d been the one to freeze over faster than a raindrop in Antarctica.

Suddenly she feared that being with James could somehow strip her of all pride—and dignity. But just as the fear sent a chill through her, he banished it, simply by taking her mouth again in a lightning-fast move.

She was breathless, her slim control toppled completely. She lifted her hands to his head, feeling his hair beneath her fingers. Eyes closing, she let touch and taste and scent envelop her. Shifting in her seat, wanting to move, wanting to moan.

‘Settle down, sweetheart.’ He lifted his mouth from hers again and stroked hands down her arms in a way she knew he intended to be soothing, not stirring. She was still stirred. He spoke some more. ‘I’m not having quick sex in some tiny toilet, even if it is first class.’

What? The sex or the toilet? Oh, she knew the sex would be beyond first class—if his kiss was anything to go by, it would be the best of her life.

She sucked in three lungs full of air and used the extra to clear her head enough to be able to come back with a sort of smart reply. She had to try to handle him and the only way seemed to be to keep it light—or at least try to. ‘Hell, no. Too small, too smelly.’

‘If we’re going to do it we’re going to do it properly.’

‘Hallelujah,’ she quipped, only half joking.

He sort of smiled but his delivery was soft and serious. ‘It’ll be slow, in a bed, with plenty of space, and no one nearby so you can scream away.’

She suppressed the thrill of the image and aimed for cool and sarcastic. ‘What makes you so sure I’ll be screaming?’ It was too breathy to be believable.

His eyes held hers and told her to quit trying to hide it. ‘I won’t stop until you do.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

LISS stood no chance. Her mind was spinning. James Black on flirt offensive? With his playful side unleashed, he was far more dangerous than when in lecturing-boss-man mode. He’d made his decision and now was embarking on a slow, deliberate assault. And she was about to cave. It was too exciting not to, too much of a temptation not to, too much of a need not to.

Under the blanket his fingers touched her breast. She shivered as her nipple tightened even harder.

‘Damn air-conditioning,’ he murmured and pulled the blankets higher—to their necks. Then his fingers went to play some more.

‘James,’ she warned.