The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection. Zara Stoneley
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we?’
I flush. ‘I’m not usually so argumentative. I shouldn’t have called you cynical. I’m sorry.’
‘Yes, well, I’m sorry if I lost my cool. You’re right. I am cynical – whereas you’re an optimist. We both have strong opinions and we’re not likely to agree on this particular point so I think we should agree to disagree.’ A strange look passes over his face, as if he’s made a decision. ‘Let’s just see the assignment through as quickly as possible.’
The headache intensifies. ‘Sounds good to me.’ It doesn’t. I should be wishing for the weekend to be over with as much as him but the thought he wants rid of me is appalling. Then I’m appalled that I’m appalled.
His phone vibrates inside his trouser pocket and he plucks it out, going pasty white at whatever is on screen.
‘Alex, are you okay?’
‘Pardon?’ He gazes at me blankly, black eyebrows pulling together.
‘You look awful. Maybe you should sit down for a minute.’
‘I’m fine,’ he says swiftly, but sways like a tall tree in a high-force gale. I think of Alex as solid and strong, but right now he’s vulnerable.
‘You’re plainly not.’ Ignoring my headache, I grab his elbow and jerk him towards a chair about seven feet away.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He tries to pull his arm free but I hold tight, hooking my fingers into his silky, expensive shirt.
‘Helping. You look like you’re about to fall over.’
‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’ But his deep voice is hoarse. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Sit down,’ I insist. Spinning around to swap our positions, I shove at his chest lightly, slowly backing him towards the chair. Five feet to go.
‘I said I’m fine!’
‘Did you get bad news?’ I say softy, pushing his chest again, trying not to accidentally grope what feel like glorious pecs. He steps back. Four feet. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
He looks at me oddly. ‘What would you be able to do?’
‘I don’t know.’ But the energy he directs at the question allows me to push him another foot or so backward. Getting there. I shiver. He’s so gorgeous, even more so when he’s off-balance. It’s not fair how attractive he is in his formal shirt and tie, his body so close I swear I feel its core temperature. ‘But I’d try,’ I say desperately to distract myself. ‘I’m just offering—’
He huffs. ‘Well, I don’t need you. Stop offering and go away. Go and get ready or something.’
‘No.’ I press my other hand against his chest and press again. Two feet. Nearly there. ‘Look, I’m not trying to be difficult—’
‘Seriously?’ He rocks out a laugh that does funny things to my knees. ‘You’ve done nothing but present me with difficulties!’
‘Thanks a lot!’ I give him a final shove borne of frustration and, of course, he chooses that minute to cooperate. He lands squarely in the chair and the momentum carries me forward. I stumble and end up sprawled on top of him, bum on his hard lap, hands clinging onto his shoulders for balance.
‘Oh,’ I squeak.
‘Oh,’ he echoes.
We lock eyes, his pupils dilating. His gaze drops down to my mouth. ‘You’re really quite beautiful you know,’ he says huskily.
The rumble of his voice, reverberating through his broad chest and against my breasts, strikes a chord in my misbehaving body. He thinks I’m beautiful!
It’s a mere sparkle of thought, because I squirm on his thighs and his hands clench on my hips … and he jams his mouth down on mine.
The kiss is demanding and rough and he curves an arm around my back to yank me closer. I know he’s taking his frustrations out on me but I’m not scared in the way I would be if it were Tony. The fear goes deeper as warmth spins inside me. It’s not fear about my physical safety; it’s about guarding my heart.
I pull away but really don’t have anywhere to go, lying across his lap with his arms wrapped round me. ‘What are you doing?’ I choke into his mouth.
He lifts his head just enough to hear the words and confusion clouds his face. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admits. I expect him to let me go but he kisses me again and it’s not rough any more. It’s how every girl longs to be kissed for the first time; slow and sweet and sexy. It’s much worse than his misplaced anger. More dangerous. I try to fight it but it’s useless. I hold out for all of two seconds then breathe in his fresh scent and become aware of the smooth texture of his shirt where my hands have moved to his taut upper back. I can feel the hot muscles shift under my palms. The heat of his solid body presses into mine, chest to knee, and the sound of our heavy breathing and the way his thumb rubs along my jaw slays me. I give in. I melt. I can’t think, only feel, gripping onto him to stop from slipping off his lap and flowing into a puddle at his feet. Raging warmth spreads through me. Embarrassingly I let out a kind of half moan, half squeak, and the pressure of his mouth increases. He groans in response and the kiss gets slower and steamier.
Taking out my hair band, he runs gentle fingers through my waves and all traces of a headache fade. Tingles zing along my spine as one of his hands drops to cup my bum. He stands, lifting and putting me on the edge of the meeting table. The glass is cool beneath my thighs through my tights as my skirt hitches up. He crowds closer, flexes his fingers on my bum, prompting an answering tug between my legs. Woah! I gasp and grab fistfuls of his thick dark hair as the kiss goes on and on, gaining energy and spark. His hips press between my thighs and it’s obvious he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
Take me now, I think foggily as he lifts his head. Maybe I say it out loud, I’m not sure. Either that or he’s a mind reader.
‘Here. Now,’ he mutters gruffly into my neck.
In that instant I almost say Oh, yes please. I don’t care as long as this feeling carries on. I don’t give a monkey’s if someone sees us.
Huh? Hang on a second.
I freeze as the extent of my desperation hits, like a bucket of ice cubes has been tipped down my back. This is so wrong. How would it look if I was caught on the table with the boss? More importantly, what will Alex think? If I do this with him, he might believe I did the same with Tony.
What on earth am I thinking? What happened to asking Alex to help me out of a hole? Getting my life back? That’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking.
I wrench my mouth from his, tug my hands from his hair. ‘No,’ I croak and my body, the traitor, is screaming to stop being so stupid, to get back in there, to strip his shirt off and unzip his trousers and enjoy this one mad moment. ‘I said no.’ I’m talking as much to myself as him.
‘No?’ Alex stares at me, luscious mouth damp and red from our kisses, hair standing up in spikes from my passionate tugging.
‘No.’ Pressing his chest, I slide off the table and smooth my skirt down. I swear it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But necessary. ‘You’re my boss.’ Grabbing the band from his hand, I twist my curls into a bun.
The dazed look in his blue eyes lifts, replaced by something else. Backing away, he stalks across the room and slides his suit jacket on. ‘The fact I’m your boss,’ he coolly does the buttons up, ‘didn’t seem to present a problem when you were hanging on to me and whimpering.’
I gape at him. Arrogant sod. ‘I was not whimpering.’ Was I? ‘You took me by surprise, that’s all.’
‘Did I also take you by surprise this morning by the pool? Is that why you tried to kiss me then?’
Anger