Burning with Passion

Until now, David had always been one step ahead of her, taking the initiative with a boldness that could still leave her breathless. He had the primitive streak of a hunter who didn’t accept being thwarted. If one approach didn’t work, he used another, and another, until he had what he wanted.

Why shouldn’t she be the same? If this was the game he played, she would play it, too.

She slid her fingers out of her hair and dropped her hands on to his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles with varying pressures. ‘You need to relax, David,’ she said in a low throaty purr.

‘I need to go,’ he bit out.

She moved her hands to the back of his neck, caressing the sensitive nape as she lifted simmering green eyes to his. ‘Not before you kiss me.’ She moved up on tiptoe, brushing her breasts against the fine fabric of his shirt.

‘What are you trying to do to me?’

‘Find reassurance.’

His chin unbent enough for her mouth to reach his. She ran the tip of her tongue lightly between his lips as she pressed closer, arching her back, pushing her stomach into provocative union with his.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the tingling touch of his tongue as it moved in response to hers. His hands closed possessively over the soft mounds of her buttocks, lifting her higher to meet the burgeoning thrust of desire she had stirred.

She invaded his mouth, sweeping his palate with the feverish purpose of increasing his arousal. She rubbed her stomach and thighs against his in wanton incitement, determined on making him burn for her. There was a fire in her belly that demanded total commitment.

An animal growl came from his throat. One hand splayed across her lower back, crushing her softness around the rigid bulge in his trousers. His other hand thrust through her hair, gripped the back of her head, holding it still as he forcefully invaded her mouth, plundering its sweetness with a passion as feverish as her own.

A feeling of triumph tingled through Caitlin’s veins. At long last he had forgotten his schedule. ‘Take me,’ she whispered huskily as his chest heaved for breath. ‘Take me, David.’

She dropped a hand to his shirt, her fingers tearing at the buttons. His stomach contracted as he muttered some fierce imprecation. Then suddenly, brutally, his hands were encircling her upper arms, pushing her away from him. It startled her into a cry of protest. Her gaze flew up, wild and accusing and mournful, meeting a blaze of furious blue.

‘You take away a man’s brain and leave him witless.’

‘You want me,’ she cried. As she wanted him.

‘You tempt me beyond endurance.’

‘Isn’t that what men want from the women they never marry!’ she flung back at him.

‘I’ve never referred to or alluded to you in any way to imply that you were my mistress.’

‘You just have,’ she said with infinite regret and a deadness of soul.

‘You goaded me into this, Caitlin,’ he responded. ‘I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing at, but this isn’t the time for it.’

‘When will there be time for it?’ she fired at him, seething with frustration, crushed by his remorselessness.

A shutter came down on the blue blaze. ‘Maybe never.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ she said heavily. It justified everything she had said and done. Her voice shook with the vehemence of her feeling of rejection. ‘I won’t be here tonight.’

If he had ever liked her he would have known that already. He would have found out. The truth was that he wasn’t interested in what made her tick, what made her the person she was.

His eyes narrowed. He plucked his hands away from her. ‘Neither will I,’ he snapped, not understanding what was happening but not bending a millimetre.

‘Just as you have a life I don’t share, I have a life you don’t share,’ Caitlin threw at him. Her chin tilted defiantly. ‘You can take me now or leave me now. If you leave, I don’t know when I’ll be free again.’

His mouth took on a cynical twist. ‘Barter-time, is it?’

Her eyes flashed contempt. ‘Sorting out priorities.’

That gave him pause for thought. She could almost see his mind clicking over with calculations. ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ he said, and turned to go.

‘Don’t worry about turning on the percolator in the kitchen for me. I’ll do it myself.’