Snowbound Seduction. Sarah Morgan
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round his waist. ‘I don’t know what happened,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but I know it couldn’t have been your fault. I know that. She didn’t die because of you.’
Something inside him snapped. ‘You don’t know anything.’ His voice savage, he turned so violently that her hands dropped. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about and you have to leave this alone. You have to leave me alone.’ Somehow his head was close to hers, his stance so threatening that she should have instantly backed off but she didn’t move.
‘I won’t leave you alone.’
‘No? Then maybe this will change your mind. There is only one other form of distraction I’m willing to try. Are you willing to play that game, Emma?’ Somehow his hands had buried themselves in her hair, the softness of it engulfing his fingers and flowing over his wrists. Without pause or hesitation he took her mouth, his kiss rough and demanding, hard against soft, bitter against sweet. He was driven not just by lust, but by desperation. By some deep, primitive need to try and drive out the agony that possessed him. He was drawn to her warmth, as if being close to her might somehow melt the thick layer of ice inside him. As if something in her might be able to heal that damaged part of him even though everything else had failed. He took greedily, selfishly, ruled by his feelings, by the pain, by the need to seek oblivion wherever it was offered. He could feel her shivering against him and he had no idea if she was cold or whether some other more complicated emotion was responsible for the tremors. His thinking wasn’t clear enough to make sense of it. All he knew was that he wanted this and he wanted it right now and, unless she stopped him, he wasn’t stopping.
His mouth still on hers, one hand still in her hair, he used his free hand to untie his robe. Still kissing her, he shrugged it off and when her arms came round his neck he scooped her off her feet and lowered her to the rug in front of the fire. Part of him, a small distant part that had virtually no voice in the madness that engulfed him, told him to slow down, to take his time, to think of her—but there was only him and the madness inside him. He didn’t want to think of her. He didn’t want to think of anything.
He wasn’t interested in a slow seduction.
With hands that shook, he ripped the shirt from neck to hem, exposing her completely. Somewhere in the depths of the madness that streaked through him he heard her gasp but he blocked that out as he parted her thighs.
‘Lucas—’ She whispered his name and he lifted his head, his vision hazy as he tried to focus on her.
The warmth of the fire had given her cheeks a rosy glow, or perhaps she was embarrassed by the intimacy with which he touched her. Either way, her body offered up a sinuous, sensual invitation, an erotic escape from his own painful brand of reality. But even in forgetting, there was one thing he remembered, and that was to grope in his robe for the contraception that had never once been out of his reach for the past five years.
His mouth was hungry on hers and then he slid his hand down her sleek body, losing himself in her curves and her softness. His touch was bold and explicit, the sexual urge so shockingly powerful that it drove aside every other emotion and drowned out the ache. Part of him knew that he was taking this too fast, but she was like a drug. The more he consumed the better he felt and the better he felt the more he wanted. He was out of control and he knew it. He knew it as he spread her legs and heard her soft intake of breath. He knew it as he slid his hand under her and lifted her and he knew it as he thrust into her body, propelled by an almost desperate urgency that didn’t allow him to hold back.
Heat engulfed him. A heat intensified a thousand times by the tightness of her body gripping his shaft. He felt every ripple of her body in the most intimate way possible. Never before had he experienced anything like it.
‘God, Emma—’ Her body clasped his and he wanted to pause, to make it last and prolong the moment, but he couldn’t hold back. Physically he was stronger than her. Much stronger. And he used that strength as he surged deep. Through the heat that blurred his brain he heard her moan his name. Felt her fingers grip his back and heard the breath catch in her throat. Perhaps he should have slowed things, whispered soft words or gentle endearments but Lucas could no longer access soft or gentle. He was deaf and blind to everything except his own need. He felt slick silken muscle tightening around him and he gave into it, gave into the rhythm and the wildness, his performance driven by instinct, not technique. Everything about it was raw and primitive, each sure thrust of masculine possession designed for his own gratification. The bite of his hand on her soft skin held her where he wanted her. The scent of her made him dizzy and the softness of her skin drove him wild. He took greedily, he plundered all that she offered and more and, in that single moment, those few suspended seconds of sexual oblivion, he was aware of nothing but the pleasure of release. And as his body emptied, so did his brain. Emptied of everything except this woman.
It took a while for reality to return.
Lucas became aware first of the heat of the fire burning his skin, and finally of the warmth of the woman still wrapped around him. Not any woman, he thought.
Emma.
Emma, his PA. Sweet Emma who deserved so much more than a one-night stand with a selfish bastard like him.
Closing his eyes, he rolled away from her onto his back feeling a rush of self-disgust, wondering what insanity had possessed him. More alcohol would have been a better option. At least then he would have woken in the light of day with no apologies owing. There would be a price, he thought. There was always a price for everything.
The only question was how high it would be this time.
* * *
Emma woke to find herself alone in the huge four-poster bed. The first fingers of cold winter daylight shone through the windows and all that remained of the fire in the hearth that had warmed their night of loving was a sprinkle of glowing embers.
It was morning, the dawn of another day, the agony and anguish of the night before nothing more than a cold memory.
But it wasn’t all forgotten, was it?
Her body ached in ways that were new to her. She felt—
Emma rolled onto her back and stared up at the canopy of the four-poster bed.
Incredible. She felt incredible. And with that thought came guilt. It seemed thoroughly wrong that what felt like the best night of her life had been the worst night of his.
For him, it hadn’t been special, had it? It hadn’t really been about her at all, even though it had been her name he’d spoken in the heat of the moment. She wasn’t foolish enough to pretend it had been personal. For him, it had been nothing more than a temporary escape. She’d offered distraction at a time when he’d needed it most, a woman who’d happened to be there when he was in trouble. She was his employee—
Emma’s smile vanished and she felt a sudden rush of panic as reality bloomed.
Oh God, she’d slept with her boss. What had she been thinking?
Sleeping with the boss wasn’t incredible, it was stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She, of all people, knew just how foolish that was. How could she have been so reckless? She was always professional. Always. She was always careful not to step over that line.
Emma shot out of bed on legs that shook and grabbed the clothes she’d left drying in front of the fire. Afraid that he might reappear at any moment she dressed in a flash, a surprising achievement considering that her hands were shaking as much as her legs. Switching on her phone, she saw that it was eight a.m. And she already had five missed calls from Jamie.
Oh God, Jamie.
It was like a thump in her stomach. The warm glow that had surrounded her when she’d woken had vanished and all that was left was cold panic.
What had she done? From the moment she’d put her hand on Lucas’s shoulder, she hadn’t given her life a single thought. It had all been about the moment, not about what would happen afterwards. With a groan of remorse, she sank onto the edge