'Tis the Season

by Carole Mortimer, Alison Roberts

  The presents got more outrageous, more pointed, and more impossible to wrap. And all the while Imogen tried to wrap them Ryan smiled, talked and teased. As hard as she tried not to, she anticipated it—longed for it, lived for it.

  Day by day, minute by minute, she was eternally braced for his presence, aching for his appearance, and so on edge she was about to explode. The weekend without work passed slowly and painfully, but the moment of seeing him again first thing on Monday was even more painful with the way her heart raced.

  He was wrong. This wasn’t instinct—some great inner per cep tion—this was plain old-fashioned lust. It was the instinct to procreate with a fit, healthy male. Very fit. Her body wanted his surrounding hers, filling hers.

  He wanted her, too—but ‘couldn’t see beyond that’. She knew why. Once he’d had her, his ‘instinct’ would be to move on. The marauding male was always driven by an innate need to spread his seed far and wide.

  He’d said it didn’t need to be complicated. She sure didn’t want complicated. But the desire to be with him was complicating everything right now. Maybe it would be better if she gave in to it? Just the once? Then she could forget about it. You always want what you can’t have, so if she had him then she wouldn’t want him any more—right?

  She argued with herself round and round and round again.

  If she was the one in control, if she was the one calling the shots and calling an end to it, then mightn’t she be okay?

  There had been no one before or after George. And she had last seen George over a year ago. A long year—which was probably why her desire for Ryan was so intense, right?

  He’d said anything between them wouldn’t impact on her job—how could she trust him on that? But he wasn’t here permanently as her boss, was he? Just a couple of months while he oversaw the transition and re cruited and trained a new manager. Then he’d be gone and she could keep working, keep studying.

  One morning she could stand it no longer. She pulled on the jade blouse, her scarlet bra already fastened underneath, and matching knickers. She held her breath as he walked in. Saw his gaze flicker over her shirt. And then he looked at her computer rather than at her.

  ‘I need some data from last week.’ His frown was something else.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I want it on my desk before you go home tonight.’

  ‘Yes, Ryan,’ she said clearly, filled with desire and daring and a kind of defiance. ‘Absolutely.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE HADN’T COME NEAR her all day—not even when she’d wrapped gifts in her lunch break. She’d sat at her desk all afternoon, growing colder by the minute, eventually frozen with humiliation as she pulled the data and assem bled the figures. At ten past six, when the others had already left for the day, she knocked on the frame of his open door and walked right in. With a flick of her wrist the papers swooshed beside his keyboard.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The report. On your desk.’

  He looked up then, and she gasped at the brilliance of his eyes—bright blue and blazing into her.

  ‘It wasn’t the report I wanted on my desk.’ He stood.

  Instinct made her take a small step back, but he followed—too fast.

  ‘Yes,’ he said crisply. ‘Isn’t that what you said to me earlier, Ms Hall? Or did I imagine that?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Did you or did you not say yes?’

  Oh, when his eyes were lit up like that there wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t part her legs. ‘Yes.’ It was a whimper.

  ‘And you know my feelings about that shirt.’

  She could feel the heat as he stared at her breasts.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, her confidence firming at the same time as her nipples, ‘I’m not sure I do.’

  ‘Then allow me to show you.’

  He walked with sure, determined steps. But to her immense disappointment he stepped around her. Then, to her intense excitement, he locked the door.

  Desire, too long denied, rose. Slowly she turned and watched him return to her. ‘This has to be on my terms, Ryan.’

  ‘Name them.’

  ‘Once only.’ She had to set the rules while she could still think. ‘Just once. Okay?’

  ‘You’re offering me a one-night stand?’

  ‘It can’t get complicated that way, right?’

  His eyes met hers, dark now, solemn. ‘Do you think once is going to be enough?’

  ‘It has to be.’

  He stopped right in her space and looked hard at her. ‘I think that once will be enough to know.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Whether once will be enough.’ His smile had an edge to it.

  Her heart was thudding louder than the drums in the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. ‘What does that mean?’

  He ignored her. ‘Do you want me to touch you?’

  ‘Yes. And…’

  He leaned closer, spoke just as softly. ‘And what?’

  She whispered—the thinnest of threads detailing her deepest desire. ‘I want to touch you.’

  Slowly, so slowly, he stretched out his arm and touched her shoulder. The tips of his fingers glided down her silky sleeve until he caught her hand. He lifted it, still slowly, and pressed her palm to his jaw, turned his chin into it just a touch so he could kiss her. All the while watching her intensely, his eyes reflecting her own desire back at her.

  She moved then—fast. Sliding her hand to the back of his neck, she pulled him home, capturing his mouth with hers.

  Slow and sweet became fast and frantic as they stumbled together, passionately trying to get closer. His stubble chafed her cheeks, her lips—she loved it—kissed harder. He backed her up until she was against his desk, pushed papers aside. She sat on it, pulling him to follow. He did, pressing kisses down her throat to her open collar. His fingers worked fast to undo the top few buttons so he could kiss the top of her breast as it crested over the scarlet lace. She’d worn a skirt deliberately, and was now thrilled with her cunning. She wriggled her hips so he could push the material out of the way and slide his hand up her thigh. He stroked against her panties.

  ‘Yes…’ She sighed. If he touched her skin on skin she’d come. If he slid those fingers inside she’d… ‘Hurry,’ she urged. She’d waited for too long—wanted the pleasure now, so she could feel the relief and then be able to forget about it. ‘Hurry!’

  ‘All efficiency, aren’t you?’ He lifted his hands off her.

  ‘Why are you stopping?’

  He’d placed his hands hard on the desk either side of her. His face was flushed, eyes glittering, breathing hard. ‘One night, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Then I want all night. Not some one-minute quickie in my office. I want a good ten hours in my hotel room.’

  She felt her eyes widen. ‘You were the one who said you wanted me on your desk.’

  He glanced down to her body. ‘I changed my mind.’ His fingers went back to her thigh, gently sweeping up the exposed curve of skin.

  ‘But I don’t think I can make it to your hotel,’ she wailed, as hot need washed through her. She couldn’t say no. Not now. Not when she was so close.

  His smile was beyond satisfied. ‘I’ll make it easy for you.’ He scooped her off the desk and carried her to the door. In the lift he leaned her back against the wall, kissed her senseless.

  It was only as the door opened and he set her on her feet that she remembered her shirt and managed to fumble her way into doing the buttons up. Somehow they got through the store. Her lips felt three times their usual size. Dazed, she supposed she was walking, but she felt as if she was floating.

  The instant they were out of the building he had her hand in his again, and flagged a cab with the other. His hotel was only minutes away, and every one was spent in his arms. Still not close enough. In the lift again, he pressed against her so hard she could hardly breathe. She could hardly breathe anyway, so excited, so desperate
as she kissed him back, already working the buttons free on his shirt.

  ‘You’re the most wonderful challenge, Imogen.’ As the lift chimed, signalling his floor, he stepped back, looking almost cunning as he fished in his pocket for his key card.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, too mindless to be able to work him out.

  ‘One night? You’re sure that’s all you want?’

  ‘That’s all.’

  Determination deepened his reply as he opened the door. ‘I wonder if that’s what you’ll say in the morning.’

  She didn’t get the chance to answer—even to think—as he locked her in his arms and backed her against the door to close it.

  His kisses fired her until she was clinging and sighing, doing everything she could do make him take her now.

  But he broke away. Stepping back a distance and staring at her, he took in a long, ragged breath. ‘I want to slow down.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  He laughed. ‘No. I already figured that.’

  He walked. She followed, watching as he pulled a bottle from the fridge. She seethed with frustration, focused on reading the label to try and hide just how much she didn’t want to stop.

  She lifted her brows. ‘Your standard drink?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve had it in the fridge since you said you liked bubbles that night in the bar.’

  ‘I said I like bubbles at Christmas.’

  ‘But, Imogen,’ he said, all innocent-like, ‘this is better than Christmas.’

  ‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

  He’d known this would happen. ‘Optimistic.’

  Inevitable. Her mood dimmed. She hated being a foregone conclusion. Had he already mapped out the rest of their affair? Undoubtedly. He was already betting there’d be more than one night. That made her even more determined not to follow his plan.

  His grin didn’t disappear, but it gentled. ‘You can’t deny it. You feel it. I feel it. And together we’ll deal with it.’

  He handed her a glass. She took a sip to soothe her dry throat. The bubbles hit the roof of her mouth and she closed her eyes, appreciating the sensation. Swallowing, she lifted the glass to have another mouthful—but he took it from her.

  She looked at him.

  ‘Uh-uh.’ He shook his head and teased, ‘Just a taste. I don’t want you blaming what’s about to happen on the demon drink.’

  ‘What’s going to happen?’

  ‘You’re going to lose your head. We both are.’

  ‘Maybe I already have.’

  He chuckled at that. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘It feels like it. You make me feel…woolly.’

  ‘Woolly?’ He was really laughing now.

  ‘In my head,’ she said crossly.

  ‘Stop thinking about your head,’ he instructed. ‘Stop thinking at all.’

  In less than five seconds she’d done exactly that as he swept her close and kissed her deep. This time she wasn’t letting him step away again. She ran her hands over his hard muscles, tested the breadth of his shoulders, and had his shirt off and his trousers down well before her own clothes were even undone.

  He walked her backwards to the bedroom, stepping out of his clothes along the way, unzipping her skirt and opening her shirt buttons so she could do the same. He pushed her back onto the bed. He landed right on top of her and she arched against him, unable to wait any longer for that complete contact.

  His laughter was muffled as he kissed along the line of her bra. ‘Slow down, darling.’

  Slow down? Was the man crazy? She didn’t have time for slow. It felt as if she’d been burning for him for ever, and she was so close to fulfilment. She reached for him, stroking him, urging him.

  But at that he gripped her wrists and firmly lifted them high above her head. ‘Hold onto the pillow.’

  She could feel something inside flare at his order. But a tiny sense of self-preservation made her resist. She tried to pull her hands free.

  ‘No.’ He pushed down hard, keeping her in place. ‘Hold onto the pillow.’

  He was kneeling astride her. All she could see were broad shoulders, hard abs tapering to those slim hips, and his thick erection arrowing right at her.

  She shivered—tried to break free again. His dominance was a turn-on that she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge. ‘Maybe I don’t trust you.’

  His laugh was short. ‘If you don’t trust me then you shouldn’t be anywhere near this point.’

  She stared up at him. She trusted him physically. It was the mental and emotional stuff that she was unsure of.

  He was looking deep inside her again. He moved to hold both her hands in one of his and ran a finger down from her throat to her navel. ‘Maybe you don’t trust yourself.’

  She shivered again. He wasn’t going to let her get away with a quick thrill. He was asking for total response. The problem was the price that would be paid after. And she didn’t know if she could afford it.

  Her defence rose. ‘You think you have me all figured out, don’t you? You think I’m uptight.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I guess this is your chance to prove it to me.’

  Their stares clashed. Determination versus defiance. Temptation versus resistance.

  But such determined temptation was impossible to resist. Her fingers curled into the soft pillow. But even as she surrendered, she challenged him. ‘I will retaliate.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’ He bent closer, whispered, ‘But the thing is, Imogen, I want this to last more than five minutes, and if you keep touching me like that we won’t even make it to two.’

  She squeezed the pillow that bit tighter as pleasure rippled though her.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, approving as she flexed her hips. ‘I want you that much. So we need to even out the score a little.’

  She wanted him. She’d never wanted another man the way she wanted him. But he, as he’d promised, went slow. Trailing fingers, lingering kisses, gently stripping the scarlet lace from her body with teasing caresses. From top to toe he tasted and teased, eventually, finally—thankfully—settling between her thighs, from where he could reach up and toy with her breasts while tonguing her intimately.

  Divine sensation. Mindless bliss.

  Uncontrollably she thrust up, body rigid, right on the brink, wanting release so badly. But his fingers stilled and his mouth lifted.

  ‘I won’t let you be Ms Efficient in bed, Imogen.’

  ‘Please.’ She was frantic.

  ‘Say my name. Say it.’

  She did—chanting it over and over—begging, pleading, twisting beneath his fingers and mouth, desperate for the relief only he could give. Until finally, with just another tormenting silken suck, he let her crash over the edge.

  Long moments later he blew on her face. She opened her eyes, saw him smiling at her. ‘You are one delicious woman.’

  Her glance skidded down his body. He was the deli cious one.

  He nudged her fingers as they slipped on the pillow.

  ‘No point,’ she mumbled. ‘They’re useless. I can’t move anything.’

  ‘Really?’ He looked hard into her eyes. ‘Answer me honestly, Imogen. Are you really that satisfied?’

  No. As soon as the question was asked the answer slammed into her and she wanted to shout it out. It was as if that orgasm, like an avalanche, had set a layer of snow free, revealing a deep chasm beneath—the need yawning wide within her. And he saw. With his vibrantly blue eyes, she knew he saw. And she also knew he had what it was that she needed—what she wanted.

  It was that need that gave her strength, forcing her to move, to reach, to snare. Her fingers spread wide greedily. Her mouth parted and plundered. She couldn’t get enough of him, wanted all of him.

  She arched her neck, stretching that distance so her mouth could touch his. He caught hers full. That kiss was the ignition. Her body, rendered so useless only moments before, was now fille
d with strength and craving. She pushed, raking her hands down his body, touching, stroking, squeezing. Feeling his heat, testing his strength, his endurance.

  He lay back, letting her straddle him, explore him, taste him with a hunger that only seemed to grow the more she had of him. Her sex was wet, aching with want, her breasts tight, her belly yearning and restless. She rocked, uncontrollably rubbing against him, all of her body, not just her mouth, wanting its fill.

  The assertion of dominance changed again. She felt his muscles grow more tense, heard his hiss as her hands swept over him, felt his strength as he lifted her, rolling them both over, positioning her. His large hands were hard on her thighs, parting them so he could fit in between.

  Mesmerised by the blue of his eyes, passion making them even more brilliant, she paused. Their mouths met again. Tongues curling intimately. Sealed. A merging of everything. Nothing held back. Giving everything, taking everything.

  And in that moment he pushed inside her.

  Her head flew back, breaking the seal of their lips as she gasped at the overwhelming sensation. ‘Ryan!’

  She sucked in another scalding breath as his stomach hit hers and he plunged in to the hilt.

  ‘I’m here.’ He took her hands, his fingers en twining with hers. ‘I’m here.’

  He thrust deep again, and that last remaining frag ment of herself was shattered.

  ‘Yes.’ Her eyelids flut tered as she sighed, suc cumbing to the blinding pleasure.

  Her body was humming. She was skinless, just sen sation. Warmth and light and mingling with him. Surging forward, meeting him again and again, strength matching softness and merging into one. Her fingers were free now as his gripped her hips, holding her so he could push even closer. She ran the heel of her hands across his shoulders, followed down the vee of his body to his tight butt and pulled him into her as vi ciously as he was pushing.

  It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t ever going to be enough.

  She cried out at the realisation. More. She needed more.

  Her eyes opened and she saw him looking at her with unbearable intensity, steely determination locking his jaw. He was utterly focused on her. She could feel him willing her to feel it.