by Lynda Chance
The only answer she received was a low rumble in his chest as his finger slid through her wet folds. Wet … damn it, Maria. “Garrett. Don’t.”
She sucked in a breath as he circled her damp opening.
“Ask me nicely,” he hissed in tones of steel.
“I’m going to sue you nicely if you don’t let me go!”
His finger stayed exactly where it was while they stared at each other. One second, two seconds—
She was just about to lose it and push against him when he withdrew from her clothing only to slide his hand up to her chin and lift it. “I’m going to give you fair warning, baby. That shit you pulled on me today? Don’t turn it on for me if you don’t want me to react, understand?”
“I didn’t do anything,” she denied hotly, knowing she was lying.
“Oh, I think you did,” he answered, gripping her harder.
“Bullshit,” she spit out.
“Bullshit,” he retaliated.
“Fuck you,” she hissed, so angry she thought her head might explode.
It was on the tip of his tongue; she could see it was on the tip of his tongue. If he’d been mad before, his anger had just etched up another notch. His eyes became pointed and his stance widened just that much … preparing himself to dominate her where she stood. His hand bit into the flesh of her chin while the fingers he held her imprisoned with turned into bands of iron. She felt it coming … she reared back as far as she could go but it didn’t help.
His expected verbal retaliation came in the form of an erotic, physical assault on her body and senses. His mouth fell back to hers and he began kissing her like a madman. He stroked inside her mouth, taking what she was refusing to give. He punished her with his tongue, he retaliated with his lips and his teeth, his kiss animalistic. Lifting his head, his eyes almost hypnotized her with their intensity. “I don’t care for smart-ass little girls like you.”
“Fuck y—”
Her insult was silenced by his lips on hers. He kissed her as if she were his. He kissed her as if he had every right to proceed any damn way he pleased. And damn him, even his anger was addictive. His scent was masculine, musky, crisp and infinitely appealing to her. And if she allowed it, it could do things to her that she wouldn’t be able to control.
Her pulse went spinning. It was damn hard to stay coherent when her body wanted nothing more than to let go. But she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. There was something about Garrett Rule, something that had told her from the very beginning that he wasn’t safe. If she slept with him, he’d either toss her aside or … or he’d take her over completely, and she’d be pulled along for the ride with him in full control, whether she wanted to be or not.
And that wasn’t going to happen. She could probably deal with being tossed aside, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she was going to stand still and let him run roughshod all over her. Wasn’t. Going. To. Happen.
With every ounce of physical and mental strength she possessed, she ripped her mouth from his and turned her head away from him. Her eyes flew open and she stared at the wall, listening to her heartbeat in her ears while she was vaguely aware of his own fight for oxygen. She could tell he was staring at her profile, and she closed her eyes in denial.
This couldn’t be happening. She’d fought for too hard and for too long for her place in this hotel; she wasn’t going to give it all up just because this man waltzed inside, bought the place, and then tried to not only take it over, but her as well.
****
What the hell was he doing? Garrett released Maria’s hands and her arms immediately came down and crossed over her chest, her face held rigidly averted from him, as she turned away so that he was left to study her profile.
It was a beautiful profile, but then he’d known that for every hour of every day for the last four weeks.
But that was no excuse. He’d had beautiful women before so why did she matter so much? Women were expendable. And he’d yet to find one who was worthy of his trust. He’d almost been burned in college. He’d found out quick-fast that when a woman wanted a man’s money, or his future, as had been his case, then said woman could lie like there was no tomorrow.
And he’d been lied to. Once upon a time, in his dark past, a woman had claimed he’d impregnated her, to force his hand. But he hadn’t been that naïve. He’d demanded a DNA test, and of course, she’d been found out.
No, he had no reason to trust women, and certainly not the conniving little femme fatale who stood in front of him now, no matter how angelic she looked.
He’d had her number from the beginning. She’d been a bitch to Courtney, and that kind of attitude didn’t simply disappear … although until today, it hadn’t been anywhere on the surface for him to see.
There was no question that he needed to focus on getting her out of his mind … he just hadn’t been concentrating hard enough. He’d let the last four weeks pass by, hoping against blind hope that she’d do something that would be so off-putting that his lust for her would evaporate into thin air.
But it hadn’t happened. All she’d been was a model employee, smart, hard working, dependable.
But then that shit earlier today had pushed him over the edge. He took in a breath and tightened his abs. His fault. Touching her this morning had been a mistake. Touching her now had been a monumental screw-up, one he didn’t know if he’d be able to recover from. The feel of her slick, wet heat had almost driven him out of his mind, and it was a damn miracle he’d been able to release her when she’d demanded it. Something had to come to a damn head. And soon. Very soon.
With an amount of effort he couldn’t believe it took, he released her and turned away, pressing the button that would allow the elevator to start moving again.
When the doors opened on the gym-floor level, he held the door and glanced back at her. She was still leaning against the corner, her face ashen, her hands gripping the rails. “Are you coming?”
Antagonism lit her features, a brilliant sparkle of ice shining from her eyes. She stayed exactly where she was, shaking her head and clenching the railing so hard that her knuckles lost color. When she spoke, she spit defiant words out that were meant to hit their mark, “Not with you. Never with you.”
Her meaning hit him solidly in the solar plexus and his temper flared as his cock hardened more fully. He took her words one way only, as a direct challenge. So much for attempting to leave her alone.
Well, then … game on, baby.
****
The next morning, Maria sat at her desk somewhat amazed that she’d been able to sleep at all the night before, let alone as much as she had. Garrett was already enclosed in his office as well, she’d heard him banging things around in there not three seconds after she’d arrived at her desk.
Logging on to her computer, she crossed her legs and glanced down at the outfit she’d put on not half an hour ago, a tiny hint of restlessness assailing her. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she trying to cause herself more of a problem than she already had with Garrett? If she was, at the moment at least, she didn’t think she really cared.
His attitude yesterday had seriously pissed her off. She hated that he continually tried to intimidate her with his raging, over-the-top masculinity. His actions were beyond the pale, not cool in the least. So naturally, she’d want to retaliate, right? Just as she had yesterday, when, by his own words, she’d turned it on for him. So, this morning, she’d dressed with a bit more care than usual … because if he was going to make her life a living hell, she intended to give back as good as she was getting.
She hadn’t done anything overt with her appearance that anyone should be able to peg right off the bat. It was simple things, really, several of them. She’d started with one of her standard outfits that Garrett had already seen at least a couple of times. The top was a simple blue blouse, but she’d worn a push-up bra underneath it, and she’d left an extra button undone. The skirt came an inch or so above her knees �
�� but she’d teamed it with higher heels than she usually wore. She always wore at least a low heel because of her lack of height, but she rarely wore high-heels to work. But she had today. Not platform heels, because those would have been too noticeably different. These were stilettos … five inch stilettos. She’d added a double layer of mascara to her almost negligible make-up routine, and since her lashes were long to begin with, the effect was rather dramatic, if she had to say so herself. Other than that, she’d curled the tips of her hair, producing a bit more bounce to taunt him with.
Overall, she was more than pleased with her appearance. Nobody could accuse her of going out of her way with different clothes or a dramatic change in hair or make-up.
But what would Garrett think? She’d bet her bottom dollar that he’d notice.
Now all she had to do was sit back and wait.
She didn’t have long to wait. Five seconds later, Garrett walked out of his office toward the coffee-room. He didn’t once look toward her. But a couple of minutes later, on his way back through, he glanced her way, then came to an immediate halt, a scowl blazing across his features. Holding his coffee cup suspended halfway to his lips, his body stilled as he narrowed his eyes on her. His gaze ran up to the top of her head and then down her torso where she sat behind her desk, coming to a silent, screaming halt at her breasts.
Finally, lifting his eyes back to hers, he didn’t speak for a long moment.
“Good morning,” she said as calmly as she could manage, knowing that her ploy had worked—and he hadn’t even seen her shoes yet.
His expression turned steely, his body held in rigid lines. He took a drink of his coffee and then finally spoke, as if he had something to be pissed about. “I’ve got a meeting with a real estate developer from the Keys in about half an hour. Show him in when he gets here.”
With that, he turned away, walked into his office and slammed the door with a deafening crack.
****
Twenty minutes later, the real estate developer was escorted into her office by the front desk clerk. The girl had been here for several years now and was pretty much Maria’s right arm when it came to running the hotel. The young woman had a dreamy look on her face, and when Maria looked into the newcomer’s eyes, she could definitely see why.
Maria stood to her feet with a smile for the man and quietly dismissed the dazed employee. “Thanks, Beth.”
After another long stare, the girl finally turned around and went back to her station.
Maria came around her desk and held her hand out just as she heard a faint click of a door. “I’m Maria Alvarez,” she said simply with a professional smile of welcome.
He reached out and his hand swallowed her smaller one. “Maximo Villareal,” he responded with a masculine smile before leaning slightly forward and saying in a more intimate tone, “you can call me Max.” Without releasing her hand, he broke into fluent Spanish, “If you’re an example of the women in Miami, I’m going to have to visit more often.”
With a hint of a blush that she couldn’t for the life of herself control, she dipped her head graciously and replied, “Gracias, Senor.”
A harsh, booming voice came from Garrett’s office door. “Villareal, you want to do business with the Rule Corporation or not? I don’t have all fucking day to wait while you loiter with the employees.”
Shock hit Maria hard, sliding through her veins at Garrett’s rough announcement. Max slowly released her hand and turned to face the other man, his smile dropping, his eyes turning speculative. As he held Garrett’s eyes, he switched to English and asked, “So, it’s that way, is it?”
Garrett replied at once, his teeth gritted in a punitive clench. “Yeah, it is.”
Maria felt almost speechless, but evidently, her brain wasn’t quite yet incapacitated. “No, it’s not.”
Garrett turned to her with a pissed, pointed gaze that screamed retribution if she dared argue with him. “Yeah, it damned well is.”
She felt a stroke of temper and dared. “No, it damned well isn’t,” she began arguing heatedly, but all at once, she realized his eyes had fallen to her shoes, undoubtedly noticing the effect they had on the length of her legs underneath her basic clothing. Her blood heated as his hands balled into fists and his shoulders seemed to grow a mile wide, his smoldering, accusatory gaze lifting back to hers. What the hell had she done? How smart could it be to tweak a tiger’s tail? Well—it was done now.
“We’ll discuss it later,” he snapped out, and then turned to the other man. “Shall we?” he asked, holding out a hand, indicating his office.
The businessman followed Garrett into his inner sanctum, the door clicking closed behind them, and Maria slowly let out her breath, not even realizing that she’d been holding it for the last few seconds.
Recognizing right away that she didn’t want to be anywhere close by when their meeting was over, she decided that now would be as good a time as any to make her rounds of the hotel.
****
Two hours later, Maria was walking back through the main lobby when she saw Garrett come from the back office area. Even with the distance that separated them, she could see that his eyes were sharp and focused only on her. He pointed to her and then tilted his head with an arrogant jerk, indicating that he wanted her presence at his side, pronto. Without waiting to see if she followed, he turned around and walked back through to the offices, obviously expecting her immediate compliance.
Steeling her guts for the altercation that was no doubt to come, forcing a bravado that she wasn’t feeling, she rolled her eyes and stomped in his direction.
She arrived at his office door, glanced inside and saw that he was waiting for her, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the front of his desk. He’d taken his suit jacket off, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
“Yes?” she questioned as serenely as possible.
“Come in and shut the door,” he snapped, obviously pissed.
Son-of-a-bitch.
Maria stepped inside and shut the door, but didn’t walk any farther into the room. She tried to breathe even as she waited for the explosion she knew was about to happen.
Lifting his hand and slashing it downward, he indicated her. “What’s this all about?”
Damn. That had been quick. “I’m sorry. What is what all about?” she asked, stalling.
He shifted position slightly, not coming to his feet but not leaning back quite so much anymore. “I don’t want any shit from you right now, got it? Why the fuck are you dressed like that?”
Her spine stiffening, she asked, “Dressed like what, exactly?”
“A fucking sex siren, that’s what.”
“I’m sorry, what?” she screeched. Come on, really? Mascara and high heels? Please.
“You think it’s entirely smart to come to work showing off your goddamn cleavage like that? And what’s up with the fuck me heels?”
Maria about lost it. Her mouth flattening in lines of anger, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re so stupid.”
He came off the desk in an instantaneous show of fury. “You want to say that again?”
She didn’t back down an inch. “You need to get your head out of your ass,” she clarified. “How much is the Rule Corporation worth, exactly?” She spit the question out, and in two seconds flat, he was stalking toward her, but she kept talking. “So. Stupid,” she bit out. “Do you know the meaning of sexual harassment? I’m going to find a lawyer and own your fucking corporation.”
He reached her in four quick steps and grabbed her by the shoulders with hands of iron. “I’m not sure you understand what happens to women who make empty threats—”
She lifted her chin and glared. “I’m not sure you understand what happens when men let their cocks do the talking for them in the work place—”
His hands tightened into bands of steel. “If you ever flirt with that motherfucker again, so help me God—”
She kept up with the
change of subject without batting an eye. “I didn’t flirt with him, but I can and will flirt with whoever the hell I want—”
“Not if I have anything to say about it, you won’t.”
“What are you going to do about it?” she threw out the challenge, ignoring the trace of heat trickling along her nerve endings and focusing only on her anger.
His fingers bit into the flesh of her shoulders. His gaze dropped to the tiny hint of cleavage that was on display and his eyes lit with impressive fire. His torso came a few inches closer, obliterating the last bit of personal space she had left. He bared his teeth, and an uncontrolled look of rage filled his features.
His eyes lifted to her lips, and he began lowering his head. Just when she thought that his lips would land on hers, he startled her completely with the downward swoop of his head. Holding her shoulders in place against the door, his mouth landed on the top swell of her breast, which was plumped up by her push-up bra. Pushing the material of her blouse aside with his jaw, his lips came back to her naked skin. He began sucking with a force that sent shooting tendrils of heat down her spine, all but wiping out any vestige of brain power she might have had left. Heat, instant and liquefying, shot through her breasts, straight to her nipples, pebbling them into hardened points.
He moved one hand from her arm down to her neglected breast, and he found her nipple as quickly as a missile finding its target. He began manipulating it in time with the suction of his lips, causing fire, all-encompassing and urgent, to land at the juncture between her thighs, softening her to a trembling mass of feminine need.
Her thought process splintered; she began to drown under a wave of lust unlike anything in her previous experience. Nothing had ever felt like this; nobody had ever felt like this. In the back of her mind, she knew she was playing into his hands and should put a stop to it. But for the moment, at least, she was unable to do anything except feel.
Maria was rudely awakened from his erotic spell by the low vibration coming from his chest, and the feel of his hand dropping to the enclosure of his pants, his intent evident.
Dawning panic and self-preservation forced her brain into functioning again, so she put her hands to his chest and began pushing with all her might, and to her relief, he let her go and seemed to shake himself.
