Craving Her Boss's Touch

After what seemed like aeons later she came back to earth, too bemused to care what he might read in her unguarded expression as her eyes reflected her reaction to his lovemaking.

‘Happy birthday,’ he murmured softly, against her lips. ‘Now turn round.’

Obediently she did as she was bid, and a startled cry broke from her lips as she saw the small pile of presents on the coffee table. Too surprised to disguise her pleasure, she exclaimed shakily, ‘For me?’

‘Your parents didn’t want you to think they’d forgotten you.’

There were half a dozen prettily wrapped parcels. Storm opened the two smallest first, gasping with delight when she saw the delicate gold chain and matching bracelet that her parents had bought for her.

‘Here, let me,’ Jago offered as she struggled with the clasp. The touch of his fingers on her skin sent shivers running down her spine and when they lingered for a second she held her breath, her bones melting to water as the memory of the delight they could evoke.

‘It’s fastened now,’ he told her coolly, giving her a little push. ‘Open the rest.’

There was a beautiful silk scarf from Andrea and a letter which she put aside until later, and a small square parcel from John which contained her favourite Chanel perfume.

‘He knows how much I like it,’ she explained, puzzled by the expression on Jago’s face as she picked up the last box, a large square package, tied with pretty pink and silver ribbons and wrapped in pink and grey paper.

When she had removed the wrappings she stared in amazement, searching for a card to say who the gift was from. An elegant white box held her favourite Chanel toiletries, and she exclaimed delightedly when she saw a large bottle of bath oil, wondering who could have bought her such an expensive present.

‘There isn’t a card,’ Jago drawled urbanely above her. ‘I thought you’d be able to guess the sentiments expressed easily enough.’

Storm stared up at him. ‘You mean this is from you?’ She could hardly believe it. ‘But…’

‘I noticed you were wearing it the other night,’ Jago cut across her protests, ‘and I thought you would find it more acceptable than something more intimate.’

More intimate! Her senses reeled. Tonight she would attend his party, her body, whose contours he already knew intimately, softened and perfumed with his gift.

‘You shouldn’t have…’ she began in a husky whisper, standing up unsteadily.

‘But I did, and now you can thank me,’ Jago murmured silkily, taking her in his arms.

His mouth was warm and firm and she made no demur when his hands slid under her sweater caressing her spine before curving upwards to cup her breasts. When he released her she was breathing jerkily and he held her away from him for a few seconds, studying her unprotected face.

‘Now try and tell me that you don’t want me,’ he said evenly, jerking her to her feet.

She couldn’t, of course, and she gathered up her presents in numb misery.

For a moment in his arms she had forgotten that all this was just a game and allowed herself to believe.… What? That he might eventually come to care for her?

She sat in silence as he drove her home, wishing she could find some excuse to miss the party. Her heart had started to ache in earnest, a legacy of the wine at lunchtime and her see-sawing emotions, she suspected.

As he helped her out of the car Jago bent over her, his eyes hard.

‘Don’t start searching for excuses not to come tonight Storm,’ he warned. ‘You’re coming if I have to drag you screaming all the way!’

Under the words Storm read a meaning of a different kind, an implicit reminder of his intentions, and she trembled with the knowledge that should he choose to assert his power over her, there was little she would be able to do to deny him.

CHAPTER NINE

SHE had never dreamed that her mother would entrust her birthday presents to Jago, Storm reflected as she prepared for the party. In fact she wished that she had not done so. There was little doubt in her mind that this was why he had bought her something himself, but the lavishness of the gift dismayed her. She had told herself she wouldn’t use it, but the temptation had proved too great and the fragrance of the bath oil hung on the air, enveloping her in a sensual perfumed cloud.

She was wearing her new dress, and added a touch of blusher to her cheekbones to hide the pallor of her skin. Jago arrived just as she was adding her lip gloss, and she tried to stem the weakness rising in her as his eyes slid over her body with blatant meaning.

‘Sexy and yet subtly virginal,’ he pronounced when the inspection was over, adding obliquely, ‘It suits you.’

Her perfume filled the interior of the car, and Storm stiffened, half expecting him to make some comment. Jago himself was wearing hip-hugging dark pants, a silky white shirt open at the neck under his sheepskin jacket. As they drove under the street lights Storm saw the faint beading of moisture at his throat, her breathing suddenly restricted, her hands clenched at her side to prevent her from leaning across and touching his clean, damp skin with her lips.

It was madness to feel like this, she warned herself, but she could do nothing to stop her pulses racing when he helped her out of the car. Almost day by day her aching need of him increased. The touch of his hand, initially no more than an intimacy to be avoided, now burned and tormented, inciting her flesh to demand more.