Slave to Love

‘Hell?’ he quizzed, sublimely at ease in his relaxed position on the sofa, seemingly content to torment her with the lazy slide of his eyes. ‘By the colour heating your cheeks, my sweet, it’s you who’s veering very close to that fiery place. Is that sensitive little place tucked between your thighs warming up too?’ he questioned silkily, moving so suddenly that she gasped, both at the outrageous comment and the threatening way he came to his feet. ‘Shall we see?’ he murmured, reaching for her.

‘Don’t you dare!’ Quickly she took a step back to avoid him, her arms remaining defensively clamped around her body. But even as she made the protest she felt her cheeks getting hotter and that place he was talking about begin to throb in heated response. ‘I could sue you for sexual harassment if you keep this up!’ she warned.

‘As I could sack you for incompetence, Miss Chandler?’ he countered, challenging her with the sudden narrowed gleam in his eyes. ‘For the way you’ve helped waste company money with this Brunner deal?’

‘You wouldn’t!’ she gasped, backing away one shaky step at a time while he followed.

‘No?’ he mocked. ‘Didn’t you have even one small concern that Joel was going over the top with his concessions?’

‘I...’ She floundered, her small white teeth biting down on the softened flesh of her lower lip. To admit that she had had reservations about Joel’s handling of the deal would just drop Joel right in it. But to deny any concern would make her look a blind and gullible fool. Which came too close to being a bimbo for her liking.

‘Joel is my boss.’ She went for the compromise. ‘He’s the more experienced. I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.’

‘Very loyal,’ he commended. ‘Now let’s discuss this sexual harassment thing.’ He reached out with a hand towards her, Roberta snapped her head back in rejection and he laughed, the warm, rakish laugh of a man who was enjoying the hunt. ‘I really do think it’s debatable which of us is harassing whom, you know,’ he drawled. ‘I mean, who’s the one with hardly any clothes on here?’ he challenged, with a mocking tilt to his brow.

‘This is my room,’ she argued. ‘It’s you who’s infiltrated my privacy, not the other way around.’

‘Wrong,’ he denied, taking another step forward while she took one back. ‘This suite is reserved in the company name. My name,’ he pointed out. ‘Who ever heard of a mere assistant occupying a luxury suite of rooms?’

‘It—it was booked for Joel,’ she defended stammeringly, seeing his trap and no way out of it.

‘My brother,’ Mac nodded. ‘And a co-director. He’s allowed the luxury perks—you’re not.’

‘I’ll—I’ll leave, then,’ she said, feeling definitely cornered now, her hand lifting in a rather helpless gesture towards the bedroom while her bare feet took her another two paces back. ‘J-just let me get dressed and collect my things and I’ll f-find myself another room...’

‘What—after making yourself so deliciously available to me?’

‘I didn’t!’ she disclaimed.

‘I’ve heard of women sleeping their way to the top,’ he went on mercilessly, ‘but it’s the first time anyone’s ever tried it on me.’

His eyes were gleaming with cruel mockery as she let out a choked gasp of protest.

‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘I think I might enjoy the experience. Come peddle your wares, Miss Chandler,’ he invited, ‘and let’s see.’

‘No!’ she choked. Then, because she couldn’t stand it any longer, ‘Oh, stop it, Mac! Stop—stop playing with me!’

He laughed, then caught her—not surprisingly, since he could have done so at any time in the last few minutes. ‘OK,’ he murmured as his arms closed around her. ‘Withdraw the harassment charge on me and I’ll withdraw mine on you,’ he offered.

Angry, because she knew he had her well and truly beaten, she glared up at him, wondering violently how badly her fist would suffer if she smashed it against his jutting jaw! His grey eyes were laughing, knowing exactly what she was thinking and challenging her to try it.

So neither moved, both waging this particular battle with their eyes, until the air around them began to sizzle, and something else began to take the place of anger—something even more provoking, something so darkly sexual that her skin began to tingle—tingle so badly that she began to feel like a firework, lit and ready to explode.

The room disappeared, the furniture with it, until all that was left was herself and Mac, and the new sensations buzzing between them that were so sexually stimulating. She knew he only had to bend his head and kiss her for her to go up in a shower of crackling flames.

Mac—this is Mac, her senses were whispering to her. The man we love to look at, smell, touch, taste—

The pink tip of her tongue appeared, making a slow, anxious circle of her parted lips. Mac’s eyes dipped to watch the revealing motion, the irises softening into such a dark and smoky grey that she was breathless suddenly, knowing what she was inviting but utterly unable to do anything about it.

‘Want me to kiss you, bunny rabbit?’ he murmured softly.

She quivered, hating him for making her feel like this, but loving the tender sound of her special name on his lips. And yes, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to pick her up in his big, strong arms and carry her into the other room where the bed awaited them. She wanted to strip off his clothes and lick his skin. She wanted to tangle her limbs with his, couple their bodies and die like that—die in the arms of the man she loved!

God, she thought wretchedly, what am I thinking?

A knock sounded at the door then, making Mac’s grasp on her loosen as his head went up in surprise. Taking her chance while she had it, Roberta slipped away from him, running decidedly shaky fingers down her skimpy robe as she went to answer the door.

It was a waiter, who walked in carrying the tray of sandwiches and coffee she had completely forgotten she had ordered. He glanced furtively from her hot face to Mac’s rueful one, then quickly hooded his eyes, too experienced in these kinds of situations not to know that he had just interrupted something very intimate.