Mistletoe Mistress

He stared at her for a good thirty seconds, his face working, and she knew he wanted to deny it but also that he couldn't, the devastating honesty that was an integral part of him blocking the words, and then he pulled her against him, so violently she almost lost her breath before his mouth swooped down on hers in a kiss that was all fire and fury.

'No!'

She fought him-afterwards she reminded herself over and over that she had fought him-but it had been too late the moment his lips had touched hers. That very second she had begun to drown in a multitude of sensations that had no rhyme or reason to them, her love for him taking over so completely that what was all wrong felt terrifyingly right.

He had moulded her into his frame from that first moment, his male body encompassing hers in a manner as old as time, the perfect jigsaw, and she was left in no doubt as to the state of his arousal.

And he knew. He knew her resistance was paper-thin, because after the first few minutes his hold on her slackened, just enough to prove she was in his arms because she wanted to be.

She moaned, she couldn't help it, as he began to nip and taste and savour her mouth, exciting her so seductively, so expertly that she was quivering and moist in his arms when the kiss was no longer light and teasing, but a declaration of intent.

Joanne shivered helplessly as the sensuous mouth played with her shell-like ears before moving to the sensitive skin of her throat, seeking the slight swell of her cleavage just visible under her businesslike blouse. He was good, he was so, so good, and although she knew he didn't feel the same, that he had stated exactly what she could expect from him, her heightened emotions were quelling all lucid thought.

There was electricity flowing through her veins instead of blood; she could feel it in every nerve and sinew as it created an ache that was unbearable.

His body heat released the faint trace of expensive aftershave that was still on his skin, and she couldn't believe what the erotic fragrance did to her senses, entwined as she was in his arms.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth, in the same way he wanted to thrust into the warm, pliable female body that was so soft and fluid against his strong male frame, and as he felt her answering response sensation exploded through him like raw fire, causing him to become rock-hard.

'Joanne, Joanne…' His breathing was lagged as the palms of his hands slid over the smooth silky skin of her stomach, the warmth of her, the slight moisture on her flesh, creating a pleasure-pain that was overwhelming.

All that had happened earlier that day-the knowledge that he was manipulating her, the whole situation, to his and the Mallen Corporation's advantage-just didn't seem to bear any weight when she was in his arms. Joanne knew it-a tiny rational part of her mind was shouting the warning with all its might-but it was ineffective against the bewilderingly new sensations she was experiencing for the first time.

His hands were in the glowing red silk of her hair, pulling her head gently back to tilt her mouth for greater invasion.

Was this how her mother had felt with the man who had given her her one and only child? Joanne asked herself helplessly. She had always sensed her mother had felt something special for her father-not that she had ever admitted it, but despite her bitterness and resentment that Joanne looked like him there had always been a longing in her eyes when she had spoken his name that hadn't been there with all the others.

Perhaps she had felt like this; perhaps you only felt like this once in a lifetime and that was why her mother had wasted the rest of her life trying to find that elusive feeling again?

Her body was boneless now, her legs trembling so much it was only Hawk's arms holding her against him which were keeping her upright, and she could hear herself murmuring his name, moaning his name, as he ravished her throat in an agony of desire.

And then, shockingly, unbelievably, just when she thought he was going to draw her down on to the thick deep carpet and she would have to find some strength to fight him, if she could, he moved her out of his arms and walked to the door.

His voice told her-its deep tones penetrating the fog of desire that still held her in its seductive grip-that she should get a good night's sleep, that she was tired, and, lastly, that he would see her in the morning.

CHAPTER SIX

Twice. It had happened twice, and she was going to make darn sue there wouldn't be a third time.

Joanne had sunk down on to the carpet as Hawk had left, her shaking legs unable to hold her a moment longer, and had remained there for long minutes with tears streaming down her face. How could she have been so weak as to let him walk all over her like that? she'd asked herself over and over again through the tearing pain, before forcing herself to rise and walk slowly into the bathroom, where she had washed her tear-stained face with trembling hands.

She stared at herself now in the mirror, her eyes still liquid with the tears she was holding back by sheer willpower and her nose red and shiny.

What had it all been? An exercise in subjecting her to his will? A demonstration of his power and authority? The cruellest sort of proof that he could take or leave her despite all her brave words? Probably a mixture of all of those things, she thought bleakly, brushing a strand of damp hair off her face and shutting her eyes tight for a moment If he had continued the lovemaking she would have found it difficult to resist full intimacy, and she would have hated herself afterwards, and him too. But she would still have loved him and that was more scary.

So… She opened her eyes and narrowed her gaze on the blotchy face in the mirror. Pull yourself together, girl. Nothing has happened, not really, even if it was more by luck than judgement. She wasn't sure why he hadn't followed through on his advantage; probably he thought he was softening her up for the kill? Or maybe once she was in his arms her inexperience had turned him off? Or perhaps-

'Stop it, stop it, stop it' She spoke the words out loud through clenched teeth, as angry with herself as she was with him. The whys and wherefores didn't matter, not really. Whatever his motives she was taking this as a warning that one little moth had got terribly near the flames that could easily consume it, and it wasn't going to happen again. She shook her head savagely. No way.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Hawk asked tightly.

'I'm moving out this morning; I mean it.'

'Joanne.'

'You can 'Joanne' me all you like, Hawk, but I mean it.' He had just arrived at the apartment to inform her the firm's car was waiting downstairs, his eyes immediately narrowing on her suitcases and bag near the front door, but she had faced him bravely in spite of the fact that her insides were melted jelly. She couldn't remember ever feeling such humiliation and embarrassment before, but she would rather die than let him know, she thought grimly, staring resolutely into his angry face.

'Joanne, I haven't the time or the patience for this,' he said coldly.