Mr. Temptation

‘This evening?’ He let his hand fall away from her back, ignoring how it itched to return as he stepped into the hallway and turned to watch her follow suit. ‘So soon?’

‘Why—you busy?’

‘No.’

‘Compl

aining?’ she pushed, her smile becoming one of teasing as she closed the door and turned the key in the lock.

‘Hell, no.’ He wasn’t. Not really. But her earlier behaviour had left its mark, still bothering him in the aftermath of their kiss, devoid of her lips so close to his. But did he really want that worry to get in the way of the night they could potentially share?

Fuck, no, he wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t sentimental.

One night, and then he could go back to his usual careful selection.

‘Good.’ She flipped open her portfolio and extracted a card, passing it to him, her eyes confident, almost hard as she said, ‘My office, eight p.m.’

Definitely played. She’s as sure as you are turned on—so why is that wavering doubt still clinging on?

‘I’m easy on what we do from there.’

He raised his brow, unable to help himself, his thoughts going down a far more pleasing route. ‘Easy?’

She sent him a smile that made him want to pin her to the wall, his unease obliterated by the rising desire, and then she turned and headed for the stairwell, leaving him to follow close behind, his mind alight with the varying degrees to which she could be deemed easy...

* * *

By the time eight p.m. rolled around, Zara was fizzing over with nerves and pent-up need.

Spending the afternoon fulfilling the requirements of her job, knowing full well what the evening held, had been a real challenge. And she’d been flat out, right up until that second, the pressures of her start-up venture not waning. But now it was time for fun.

She looked to the clock, reaffirming what she already knew, having glanced at it several times over. It had just gone eight and there was no sign of him as yet.

Had he changed his mind?

Was she about to get a call loaded with excuses? A text even?

Shit.

Disappointment sank deep in her belly, the familiar taste of rejection sitting bitter in her throat.

‘What did you expect?’ she muttered under her breath just as movement in the outer office caught her eye.

Daniel!

‘How did you...?’ She stepped out of her office, trying to calm her pulse now tripping out and dancing over the disappointment.

‘Security let me up.’

‘They’re paid to vet visitors.’

‘You can’t blame them,’ he drawled. ‘Not when they’re faced with someone as charming as me.’

‘Charming?’ she scoffed, her hand hooking over EJ’s chair back, the move casual but in reality serving to hold her up, her knees already turning weak over the sight of him.

He’d changed, she hadn’t—crap. She drank him in, even as her own feeling of inadequacy swelled. He wore a white shirt open at the collar, accentuating the golden hue to his skin, a dark suit that fitted his frame oh-so-beautifully and all she wanted was to strip it all away. A year of sexual abstinence and it was coming back to hound her unforgivably.

He paused two strides away, his eyes raking over her, their effect as tangible as his fingers, and she felt her nipples prickle against her blouse, her jacket still slung over her office chair offering no concealing protection as he rested there. Her braless state clearly evident. But she had no need of bras, not when she was so small, so ‘boy-like’, according to darling Charles.