A Mistress, a Scandal, a Ring

And when Jordan had climbed out of the taxi, just metres away from where he stood, the mix of triumph and relief he’d felt was like a shot of adrenaline straight to his heart.

Only then had he fully appreciated that he’d acted—yet again, where Jordan was concerned—entirely on impulse, and hadn’t thought ahead to what he would do after he stopped her.

He pushed away from the vanity now, returned to the bedroom and looked for a fresh shirt and matching tie in the walk-in wardrobe.

The smart thing for him to have done after his call with Rosa would have been to shrug his shoulders. Let Jordan go. But something about that woman fused his brain. Impelled him to make rash decisions. And, just like on Saturday, every instinct in him had railed against her leaving.

He unbuttoned his shirt and yanked it off, caught the scent of jasmine on the fabric and something earthier, muskier. He swallowed hard.

Truthfully he’d not had sex on his mind when he’d brought her up here, but he had struggled to harness his anger, even as a voice in his head had urged him to consider that his behaviour yesterday had given Jordan a perfectly valid reason to flee.

Perversely, that thinking had only made his mood deteriorate and his temper spike—because then he’d been angry not only at her but at himself.

Wrap all that in an atmosphere charged with sexual tension and sparks had been inevitable.

He buttoned up the fresh shirt, pinned gold cufflinks at his wrists, then grabbed the tie.

Jordan had lit the fuse. Hoisting her chin like she had, pursing her lush lips in a tight moue and throwing him that look of defiance...of pure, unadulterated challenge...

A man of principle he might be, but he was only mortal. And mortal men had limits.

Desires.

He scowled at his reflection in the mirror as he checked the knot of his tie was straight.

He’d never had a problem controlling his physical urges. His baser instincts. But he’d lost himself out there. Utterly. Completely.

Lost himself in her.

He smoothed his hair, where Jordan’s hands had messed it up, then turned from his reflection with a sneer of self-disgust.

He’d been rough at first, kissing her like a lusting barbarian with no self-control and no knowledge of how a man should treat a woman.

She should have slapped him. Instead she’d arched those beautiful supple curves against him and kissed him back with an equal fire and, he’d sensed, a little anger of her own.

But he’d also sensed an honesty in her response. A refusal to play coy. There might have been an edge of savagery to their kiss, but it had also been raw and real, unlike anything he’d experienced before.

He had no doubt that if Ramon hadn’t called he’d be buried deep inside her right now, oblivious to the fact that it was the middle of a work day and his secretary had no clue where he was. And to think he’d almost ignored his phone. Thank God he hadn’t. His brother was one of the few people who knew the code to his apartment. Ramon could have walked in at any moment.

It was only that knowledge that had forced Xav to turn his back on Jordan and walk away. Because one glance at her lying naked on his sofa, hair tousled, lips swollen from his kisses and her skin still flushed from her stunningly sensual climax, and he’d wanted to throw down the phone and resume where they’d left off, regardless of the risk.

He slid his phone into his pocket. He had told Ramon to wait for him in his office and he needed to get down there. Before his brother—and his secretary—grew suspicious about his whereabouts.

As for Jordan... The idea he’d entertained of playing the perfect gentleman over a polite, civilised dinner now sounded more like an evening of agonising torture.

The truth was they’d gone beyond polite—way beyond—and there was no going back.

What he did need to get back was his focus and his concentration on work—something that had been woefully lacking in recent days.

With his body still in a state of semi-hardened arousal and his thoughts consumed by a certain redhead, however, he knew there was only one way to make that happen. And that was to finish what he’d started on his sofa.

* * *

Jordan heard movement behind her and turned from the window.

Xavier was off the phone. He wore a fresh shirt and matching tie, and she noticed he’d smoothed his hair.

It looked so perfect her fingers itched with a crazy urge to muss it up again.