His Cinderella Mistress
‘You—you can’t see—!’ January stared at him incredulously. ‘You don’t consider deliberately setting out to seduce one of us, in order to divide and conquer, to be morally wrong?’
His eyes narrowed coldly. ‘You’re referring to yourself?’
‘Of course I’m referring to myself!’ she confirmed impatiently, becoming suddenly still as she looked at him suspiciously. ‘Unless—’
‘Don’t even suggest it, January,’ he warned softly. ‘So far I believe I have remained calm and reasonable during your diatribe of accusations—but if you proceed with the present one I may not be answerable for the consequences!’
‘You may not be—’
‘January, I don’t believe this conversation is doing anything to calm this situation down,’ he cut in impatiently, not sure how much longer he could stand here and take her insults without pulling her into his arms and kissing her into silence!
Which, in the circumstances, wouldn’t calm the situation down either!
His mouth twisted. ‘Our previous—friendship, may have given you the impression that you had the freedom to come here and throw wild accusations at me.’ He scowled darkly. ‘But I happen to think otherwise—’
‘Friendship?’ she echoed furiously. ‘Friendship!’ she repeated disgustedly, shaking her head. ‘We were never friends, Max, and you know it—’ She was suddenly silenced as Max’s mouth came down forcefully on hers.
He hadn’t been able to stop himself. Could no longer stand here and have January look at him with such dislike and loathing. Not that he thought kissing her was going to make her dislike him any less—he really just couldn’t help himself!
He might never know a moment’s peace again, might never again have complete possession of his soul, either, he realized dazedly. But for the moment, kissing January, holding her close against him, touching the silkiness of her skin, was all that mattered.
CHAPTER SIX
SHE should stop this.
Now.
Yet January couldn’t bring herself to do that, inwardly knew that this might never happen again, that she might never again know the taste and feel of Max’s lips on hers, the caress of his hands against the warmth of her burning skin.
And she wanted those things.
Wanted them so badly.
Wanted Max.
His hair was like silk against her hands as her fingers became entwined in its darkness, deepening their kiss, heat and moisture, a duel of tongues that spoke of their desire for each other.
January made no demur as her coat fell to the carpeted floor, at the warmth of Max’s hands beneath the thickness of her zipped top, flesh catching fire at the caress of his hands against the dampness of her skin.
She was aware once again of that oneness, of not knowing where she ended and Max began, every particle of her seeming joined to him, two halves of a perfect whole.
She groaned low in her throat as he broke the kiss, that groan turning to a throaty ache as his lips moved slowly across her cheek, down the sensitive column of her neck, to the pulsing hollow at its base, lips and tongue probing moistly there, pulses of pleasure shooting down the length of her spine to ignite a hitherto unknown warmth between trembling thighs.
The zip of her top moved slowly down beneath Max’s searching fingers, he bending his head as his lips followed the same path, January’s back arching instinctively as she felt the moisture of his mouth through the silky material of her bra, his tongue moving in a slow caress over the pouting invitation of her nipple.
His hands encircled the slenderness of her bared waist now, holding her against the hardness of his thighs as his lips paid homage to the warm swell of her breasts. And lower.
January moved against him invitingly, her fingers once again entangled in the darkness of his hair, holding him against her, never wanting this pleasure to stop.
And it didn’t, not when Max bent to lift her up in his arms, or when he carried her through to the bedroom to lay her down on top of the bed, or when he lay his long length beside her, his mouth once again taking fierce possession of hers.
Despite the difference in their heights, their bodies seemed to curve perfectly together as they lay turned into each other’s arms, January’s hands free to touch him in return now, caressing the hardness of his muscled back as they pressed closely together.
She gasped at the unfamiliar touch of hands against the bareness of her thighs, able to feel Max’s warmth through the lacy material of her panties, that gasp turning to a groan of pleasure as he easily sought and found the centre of her pleasure, the whole of her body feeling like molten lava now.
‘January, if you want me to stop, then you have to say so now—before it’s too late!’
She gasped at the sound of Max’s voice, felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had just been thrown over her, as if the roof above them had disappeared to allow the cold snow to fall on her burning skin, awakening her from— From what?