Craving Her Boss's Touch

‘That I can see,’ Jago agreed grimly. ‘Have you any idea of the time?’

Storm wasn’t wearing a watch. ‘Is it late? I’d better go. I’ll go and say goodbye to Valeria and Tony.’

Jago laughed mirthlessly. ‘You’ll have a job—they left hours ago. It’s four o’clock in the morning, and the party is well and truly over. I thought you’d gone. What the devil are you doing in here?’

His anger crackled over her like ice. Her mouth felt dry and she longed for a glass of water.

‘I had a headache,’ she whispered. ‘I was going to go home, but Valeria wouldn’t let me. She wanted to fetch you, and she gave me these tablets…’

Jago frowned suddenly and came farther into the room, inspecting her heavy eyes and wan face.

‘And you took them?’ he asked incredulously. ‘On top of God only knows what you had to drink? Oh yes, I saw Pete filling your glass…’

‘I didn’t know what it was,’ Storm protested. ‘I never thought to tell Valeria. That must have been what made me sleep so heavily.’

It was obvious from his rumpled hair and bare legs that he had been in bed himself, and she wondered bitterly if Madeleine was with him. It would be better if she never found out.

‘I’m sorry about this, but I’ll go now,’ she said hurriedly, slipping on her shoes. ‘If you just tell me where my coat is…’

‘It’s in my bedroom,’ Jago told her succinctly, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘I thought you’d gone without it, but you aren’t going anywhere now. I’m damned if I’m getting dressed to drive you half a mile down the road, when you can stay here.’

‘You don’t need to take me,’ Storm protested, ‘I can walk.’

‘At four in the morning?’ Jago’s expression was ironically incredulous. ‘Don’t be a fool!’ He switched on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. ‘This bed isn’t made up,’ he told her, pulling back the cover in confirmation of his words. ‘You’d better sleep in mine. There’s a spare quilt somewhere, I’ll see if I can find it.’

‘There’s no need——’ Storm began stiffly, but he overrode her protests, his expression impatient, as his fingers touched her bare skin, sending frissoms of awareness surging through her.

‘You’re cold, and it will get a damned sight colder now the central heating’s gone off. This room’s only a guest room.’

‘But I can’t take your bed,’ Storm protested weakly. ‘I’ll be quite all right here…’

‘Please yourself,’ Jago said curtly. ‘I’ll go and see if I can find that quilt.’

When he had gone Storm drew a shuddering breath. She was cold, but there was no way she could face the thought of sleeping in Jago’s bed. At least Madeleine wasn’t already in it, she thought hysterically.

There was an unpleasant taste in her mouth and she went into the bathroom to get a drink of water. It was tiled in toning shades of blue, and she shivered suddenly, feeling very cold. The towel rail was still warm and when she ran the water tentatively it was quite hot. The door had a lock and making sure it was closed Storm ran a hot bath, revelling in the feel of the water against her skin, bringing her back to life.

Wrapped in a large towel, she stepped into the bedroom. It was empty, and a quilt was heaped in the middle of the bed. Refusing to admit to any disappointment, she switched off the light, pulling the cover over her. Wrapped in its comforting warmth, sleep soon claimed her, but this time it was tormented by nameless fears; the nightmares of her childhood when unseen creatures stalked the darkness of some primaeval forest while she ran terrified from their stealthy pursuit. The forest closed in around her, her fear growing with each passing second, her tortured lungs strained to bursting point as she ran faster… faster…

’Storm!’ She opened her eyes. Jago was frowning down at her, his hand on her shoulder. Her heart was racing, perspiration beading her forehead, the terrors of her nightmare still holding her in thrall. ‘You screamed.’

‘It was a nightmare—I’m sorry.’ She knew she would not be able to get back to sleep. She rarely suffered from these nightmares now, but when they came they left her exhausted and nervy, starting at every shadow and far too strung up to close her eyes in case whatever it was that lurked so menacingly in the shadows emerged to claim her.

‘You look like a child curled up there with your face all scrubbed clean and your hair ruffled. But you aren’t a child, are you, Storm?’ Jago muttered, as his arms slid round her his lips feathering soft kisses on her eyelids and nose.

‘Jago, please!’ Her voice shook and she raised her hands to hold him off, but the moment they came into contact with the firm hardness of his chest her fingers uncurled, moving convulsively over his muscles, a feverish pounding in her blood as she gave a faint moan.

‘Don’t fight it,’ Jago advised her roughly, his hands sliding beneath the quilt to caress her frail shoulder bones, his eyes glittering as they probed the shadows. ‘Kiss me, Storm,’ he muttered hoarsely, his mouth forcing hers open as he teased her lips. And then his mouth possessed hers hotly, sweeping away her resistance as she clung to him. The quilt was flung aside, her body registering the fact that Jago had discarded his robe as he pulled her against him, making no secret of his desire. Moaning softly, Storm surrendered to the demand of his hands as they coaxed her into a wildly abandoned response, all conscious thought drowned in the aching need spreading through her.

‘God, you’ve been driving me crazy!’ Jago murmured against her throat, his hands tangling in her hair as she arched convulsively beneath the sweeping sensation his lips aroused, her hands linking behind his head as he pushed the quilt aside, to study the frenzied passion of her body as it quivered softly beneath him.

Storm was beyond trying to hide how she felt. Her arms reached for him, her eyes blind with longing. As his hand moved slowly along her body, her breasts swelled and throbbed, a satisfied groan breaking from her lips as his mouth descended to their creamy fullness as he caressed first one and then the other with a slow sureness that drove her into his arms, with small, hoarse cries.

His lips returned to hers, no gentleness in their touch now, but Storm was beyond the need for gentleness, welcoming the fierce thrust of his body against her, as his thighs parted hers and the warm aroused male scent of him filled her nostrils.

Jago was breathing hard, his breath rasping against her skin, leaving her in no doubt about his own arousal.

‘Say it, Storm,’ he muttered urgently as he trembled against her. ‘Tell me you want me… only me,’ he demanded fiercely.