by Julia Devlin
“Restroom,” I snapped, pushing the word past my tight throat.
I forced my step to stay steady, gaze trained on the restroom sign like my own port in the storm. I didn’t look back and I didn’t run the way I wanted to.
I felt his eyes on me the entire time.
After what seemed an eternity, I made it to the safety of the bathroom and pushed open the door. I walked to the row of sinks, putting my hands on the cool granite. I hung my head.
A woman stepped out of the stall and strolled to the sink. “You okay, hon?”
I nodded, taking deep breaths to calm my pounding heart. Soothe the rush of adrenaline singing through my veins.
The door to the bathroom blew open, and my head lifted, already knowing it would be Christos. The brunette next to me paused in the act of putting on her lipstick, eyes going wide.
He flicked his gaze over her. “Please leave.”
The woman dropped the tube in her purse and left without even a second’s hesitation. That was the way he was. One uttered command and everyone rushed to obey. When the door closed behind her, Christos flipped the lock. “You can’t run, Juliet.”
I turned to face him. His eyes slid down my black sweater and slim black skirt, and I realized we matched. His gaze rested on my red patented-leather stiletto Mary Janes. “Love the shoes.”
The coordinating bag lay on the counter next to me, the keys to my townhome tucked inside. “I’m leaving.”
He took three steps and wrapped his arm around my waist. He gripped my jaw. “Why?”
“I want to go home.”
“You won’t be able to sleep. So stay with me.”
This was why I hated him. He knew everything. Knew his power, the control he had over me. Every damn thing. I jutted my chin up and his fingers fell away. “I sleep like a baby.”
He backed me up ’til I was pressed against the edge of the counter. “Those nights you stay up, restless and aching. I am right there with you.”
I blinked up at him. Stunned by his admission—one I’d never make to him—was it possible this wasn’t just a game? Don’t believe it. The thought whispered through my mind and down my spine. I straightened the best I could with the weight of his body so close to mine.
I longed to press against him. Wanted nothing more than to give in, but I resisted. “I’m not a cure for your insomnia.”
He dipped his head, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck. The shiver he set off refused to be contained. He nipped the lobe of my ear. “Probably not. But I’m the cure to yours.”
The heat simmering inside me received a much-needed dose of ice water. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, he said, “Once I have you, I’ll need to figure out how to keep you. A job bound to keep a man up at night.”
Why was he doing this? Anger rushed over me, and I pushed at his chest. The palms of my hands beat against an immovable object. “Stop this.”
He caught my wrists and pulled them away. The feeling of his fingers wrapped around my fragile bones caused desire to storm back, my nipples pulling tight. He pushed them behind my back and encircled both in one strong, capable hand.
His mouth crashed down on mine. On a gasp, my lips parted, and he took full advantage, his tongue stroked mine, sure and strong. The kiss didn’t start slow, he didn’t coax.
He took. Possessed. Demanded.
And I was powerless.
His mouth was the most delicious, intoxicating, addictive thing I’d ever tasted.
I wanted to resist. More than anything I didn’t want to respond.
But it wasn’t an option.
So I did the only thing I could and returned his kiss with all my pent-up fury. All my anger and fear. All my long-suppressed desire.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from his throat. That female part of me I tried to deny reveled in the sound. He didn’t release his hold on my wrists, most likely smart enough to realize I wasn’t above using my fists. The struggle against that ironclad hold worked me into a fever pitch in the way soft candles and romantic dinners never could.
I struggled, twisted my hands, yanked, pulled. And still his fingers didn’t budge.
I was fighting a losing battle. We both knew it. I could taste it in his kiss.
His lips slanted over mine, his tongue turned aggressive. Fierce arousal flooded my system, hummed through my veins until I was mindless. His free hand tangled in my hair where he twisted until pain pricked at the base of my skull.
A whimper sounded on the air, and I realized it had come from me.
I stiffened. Horrified at the needy sound of submission.
But he knew me too well.
Just as I started to come to my senses, he pressed that hard, magnificent body against mine and my reason once again scattered like marbles hitting the pavement.
God, this was too good. Nothing this good could be right.
His hips bumped mine, his erection rubbing my belly. And it wasn’t enough. Nothing with him would ever be enough. I wanted his cock in me. I wanted it pounding into my cunt. I wanted his fingers on my clit. His mouth all over me. I wanted to score my nails down his back and mark him. Just as he was marking me.
I wanted, I wanted, I wanted.
This need. This lust. It was compulsion. Not sane.
He yanked away from me. The second he was gone, I missed him. It was ridiculous, crazy, impossible.
And true.
My body shook as my chest heaved. I blinked up into his face, his green eyes as dazed as I felt. His breath the same ragged rhythm as my own.
We matched.
I wanted to believe it. Trust in it. But something stopped me. Habit or fear? A mixture of both? I didn’t know, but it lodged firmly in my chest and I didn’t know how to set it free.
In truth, I didn’t want to. I needed that protection as much as I needed my next breath.
It was the only defense I had.
His fingers loosened from my hair and rubbed the soft spot at the nape. He stroked down the cords of my neck, up and over the line of my jaw.
My pulse beat frantic and erratic.
In the silence, neither his breath nor mine slowed.
Long, strong fingers caressed my jaw. I shuddered. I couldn’t help myself.
“One kiss, Juliet.” His voice was hoarse, gravelly. “That’s all it took.”
“W-what?” The question popped out before I could press my lips together.
“Have you ever kissed like that?” The question managed to sound conversational, despite the unevenness of his tone. His thumb brushed against my mouth, rubbed along the bottom lip. “I never kissed a woman and had it be like that. Better than sex. Hot and wet and heart-stopping.”
Never in my life had I wanted to trust blindly—until right that second. Trust wasn’t in my nature. Trust was for the silly and naїve.
Not a woman like me.
Fear will make a person do stupid, foolish things. And I was no exception. I garnered my strength and shrugged one shoulder. “It was all right.”
His green eyes flashed ten kinds of fire, and his fingers curled along my jaw, no longer loose and easy.
The moment the words left my lips, I recognized my mistake. This was not a man to be pushed. Fear joined the rapid pounding of my heart. My skin flushed under his intense gaze.
“When I decided I’d had enough…” His tone had turned hard. A sense of danger spiked the air and I shivered. “When having you hiss and claw like an alley cat every time I dared get within ten feet of you wasn’t putting a damper in my desire to claim you, and I knew going after you was inevitable. I made a decision.”
I tried to break free once again, but he held fast. “I don’t care about this, Christos.”
“I’m not done.” The words were a warning, and self-preservation had me going still.
I’d let him have his say then I’d get the hell out. With any luck, I wouldn’t run into him for a couple of months. Next time, I wouldn’t be in an enclosed space that
felt three sizes too small. Next time, I’d have built my defenses back up. “What?”
Annoyance flashed across his harsh features. “I decided on brutal honesty.” He shot out the words like bullets, and they hit with deadly accuracy. “In exchange for mine, I’m demanding yours.”
“I don’t obey orders.”
He smiled. A wicked, knowing curve of his lips that made him look like sin itself. “I know.”
One second I was free—the next, he had me facing the mirror, my arms pinned behind me again. My heart thudded in my chest. His gaze on mine, he bent down, nipped the lobe of my ear. “Just remember, Juliet, you picked the hard way.”
“Let me go.” Anger flowed through me, or at least that’s what I pretended it was. Once again my breathing hitched, and I watched the telltale rapid rise and fall of my breasts. Giving me away. I wanted to close my eyes but didn’t give him the satisfaction.
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?” His gaze raked over my body. “To be so furious and so turned-on.” He leaned down and bit the side of my neck, hard enough to leave a mark.
I shot a spiked heel into his shin. He winced but didn’t loosen his grip, instead he kicked my legs apart, as far as my skirt would allow. “I know because I’ve been there. Jesus Christ, you piss me off. Do you know how many fucking times I’ve tried to put you out of my mind? Countless.”
I stopped my struggle and blinked at him. Hope beat like a tiny bird in my chest. But it couldn’t be true—he couldn’t feel the same way I did. And even if he did, it was the challenge, damn it. Men like him were used to getting their way. All I was to him was a dalliance with the unusual. That’s it.
Don’t let him make you believe.
My expression must have revealed something because he shook his head, his gaze softening. “Sometimes you don’t get a choice. Sometimes you don’t get to pick. It picks you.”
For the second time in an hour, my throat closed over. I gritted my teeth and willed the brightness in my gaze to disappear.
One big hand moved up my waist, over my ribs to cup my breast. His thumb traced a path over my nipple and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as sensation pierced through me. Such a small touch, almost innocent, and its power shook me.
He bent down and kissed my neck. His lips a soft brush against my skin. All I wanted was to tip my head back and rest it on his shoulder. It looked strong and capable in a way I could never be. Solid. A nice place to rest while I let him carry me away.
I kept my head up. The muscles of my neck ridged with the effort.
“Even now, when you’re so afraid and every defense you have is on high alert, you can’t resist. I could have you naked, mindless and coming in no time flat.”
I started to shake. Was I so transparent? Was there nothing about me he didn’t see?
“The only thing that stops me is that if I strip you now you’ll have an excuse to run.” His eyes met mine. “And you’ll get no excuses from me.”
Chapter Three
“Did I lose you, Juliet?”
I blinked Jonathan Marsh into focus. I’d drifted off again, unable to stop thinking about him.
Over and over my mind returned to the scene in the bathroom. Like a broken record, I replayed how he’d touched me. How his hands moved over my body. How badly I wanted him.
And how he’d left me.
He’d made it clear I was powerless against him, turned on his heel and walked away. I’d stared into the mirror and tried to cope with the fierce longing squeezing my chest, and hating that he hadn’t looked back.
The days wore on and I heard and saw nothing. The startling revelation that I expected him left me shaken. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop waiting for him. The phone would ring and my heart would leap into my throat. A knock on the door and I’d break into a sweat. I’d be sitting alone in the corner cafe by my townhome and find myself staring out the big picture window, searching for any sign of him.
The most disturbing thing of all was the way my stomach twisted every time I was wrong.
“Juliet?” Jonathan’s tapered fingers brushed my forearm.
At his voice, I jerked back to the present.
I flashed him my most dazzling smile and murmured an insincere “I’m sorry” while I shifted away from his touch. There was nothing wrong with Jonathan. In fact, for a woman fast approaching the wrong side of thirty he was a catch. That was if I liked my men on the elegant waxy side.
I waved my hand over the glittery black-tie crowd littering the field museum. “I thought I recognized someone I knew. I apologize, what we’re you saying?”
I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be home. Tucked away while I regained control of my emotions and sulked in private.
I eyed the man smiling down at me, his brown eyes shining with interest that had nothing to do with my business skills. I sighed. The price I paid for networking.
Jonathan’s brown hair was neat in a politician’s side sweep, his face classically appealing, and his bank account fat. Prime cut Chicago meat. “Robert said you were wonderful to work with. Perhaps we should talk?”
I didn’t doubt where this was going. He would ask me for lunch, talk about business for an obligatory fifteen minutes then spend the rest of the time trying to talk me into dinner.
I knew this game.
I took a sip of my champagne and tilted my head. “Our work focuses on mid-size companies, not corporate giants. You boys have more than enough resources at your disposal.” If I thought there was a chance in hell he was serious, I’d never point this out, but since he wasn’t, I didn’t have a problem stating the obvious.
A prickle of awareness had the fine hairs on my neck lifting, and in an instant, my heart started to pound frantically against my ribs.
Christos.
My body surged like a live wire and I couldn’t help glancing over one bare shoulder. My gaze shifted through a sea of tuxes and long sparkling gowns and saw nothing. I wanted to scream in frustration. Where was he?
What in the hell had he done to me? The corners of my eyes pricked.
Look at me.
One kiss and I’d been shaken to my very foundation. One kiss and I turned into one of those pathetic girls who spent countless hours staring at the phone, willing it to ring. My fingers clenched on my small evening bag.
He wasn’t coming. His abandonment had proved what I’d believed all along—once he knew for certain he could have me, the game had ceased to hold his interest.
I frowned. Where was the vindication for being right? All I felt was empty. As though I lost something I hadn’t realized I needed.
I glanced back up at Jonathan and tried to work up some interest. He was everything I could want in a man. He would wine and dine me, say all the right things. We’d have interesting discussions about politics, current affairs and the arts. He’d take me to the best places and we would rub elbows with all the best people.
But he would never touch me. He’d never really know who I was. We’d be two strangers who lived side by side. I’d be perfectly safe, wrapped in my own little fuzzy cocoon where nothing could hurt me. Exactly how I liked it. Exactly what I wanted.
But the interest wouldn’t come.
He slid an open palm down my bare arm and up again. I wanted to snatch it away from his grasp. His touch had my skin crawling. It felt…wrong.
One kiss and no other man would ever do.
Jonathan’s hand brushed my shoulder. “Perhaps it’s time you come out to play with the big boys.”
Christos had ruined me. Forever.
I stood frozen. My fingers locked in a death grip around my champagne flute, the rubble of my carefully constructed armor at my feet. All this chaos for a man who hadn’t looked back.
“How about a late lunch on Friday?” Jonathan smiled down at me. “If I’m lucky, maybe it will last into dinner.”
“She’s busy.” A hard, commanding voice sounded behind me, and it was like being pushed back into life.<
br />
Thank god he’d finally come. The thought, followed quickly by an almost painful relief, had my spine snapping straight.
Jonathan peered over my head, his thin lips curving into a frown. Then his aristocratic features cleared. “Christos, always a pleasure. I didn’t know you were on the guest list.”
“Last minute change of plans.” His deep voice vibrated through me, calming something deep within even as anger flickered through me.
I caught my breath and turned, only to have it knocked right back out of me again. Gorgeous and imposing in a black tuxedo—everyone in the room ceased to exist.
One large hand curved over my biceps and it sent a shock wave through my system. My body responded to this man as if it had finally found a home.
His green eyes glittered, and I shivered. Whether from fear or anticipation I couldn’t be sure.
“I’m afraid Juliet is unavailable.” His attention stayed riveted on me, but his words were delivered with the commanding bite that dared anyone to cross him.
I started to tremble. I yanked my arm from his grasp and resisted the urge to fuss. With a forced smile, I turned to Jonathan, who watched us with avid speculation.
I parted my lips to speak, only to have Jonathan say, “Well, Juliet, if you’re not available on Friday I’m sure we can come up with a time to talk next week.” His gaze flickered to my face. “Certainly, you can squeeze me in.”
The man hadn’t become CEO of a Fortune 5 Hundred company by being timid and fighting for territory was a familiar game.
Christos slid into the empty space beside me, and his palm stroked over my bare back, as though he had every right to touch me. Goose bumps popped along my skin as his thumb rubbed a slow circle at the base of my spine. I locked my legs to keep my knees from buckling as every cell called to be taken by him. His fingers caressed over my waist and curled over my hips in an entirely intimate gesture. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. She’s not available for you.”
Surprise flittered across Jonathan’s expression as his brows rose up his forehead. “I see.”
At long last my pride kicked into high gear, and I welcomed it like a long-lost lover. I squared my shoulders and dug one heel into Christos’ foot, but his grasp didn’t loosen. If anything, his fingers dug harder into my hip.
