by CC MacKenzie
Marcus strolled into the room.
Anais struggled to hide her surprise to see him wearing jeans.
Jeans?
Marcus Gillespie was wearing black jeans that fitted him like a glove with a soft white cotton button downed shirt opened at the neck. He was rolling up his sleeves and Anais couldn't take her eyes from the muscles of his strong arms covered in fine black hair. Her eyes scanned his lean, taut body and she blinked when she realised his feet were bare. Heat flooded her cheeks as she wondered what the hell was wrong with her that she found his strong narrow feet... sexy.
Looking terribly relaxed and chilled he leaned his hip on the edge of a couch and folded his arms.
Blue eyes narrowed now as he studied her from head to toe.
A muscle worked in his strong jaw.
She recognised the signs of stress.
Maybe he wasn't so chilled after all.
"Anais," he said, in a deep drawl of the wicked. A slight curve of his lips. "How are you feeling this morning?"
Headache from hell.
Nauseous.
Upset.
Hurt.
She cleared her throat.
"Fine." The art of casual conversation had apparently deserted her in her hour of need.
"And ready for work, I see. It appears I didn't make your position clear to you last night." The lilt of Scotland in that dark smooth voice stirred every single womanly part of her and she crossed her arms to nurse aching nipples.
And what did that mean precisely?
Of course her position was clear.
She didn't have a position.
Taking a careful breath in and out, her eyes met his.
"I'm packed and ready to leave. I want to thank you, Marcus. Working for you has been a..."
Her eyes locked with his as he crossed to her.
Confused, she tipped her head to look up into his face.
The next breath she took was lovely and long and filled with the heady scents of citrus and a clean and spicy Marcus. His gaze took in her hair and the line of her neck, pausing for a heart-beat on her mouth, before lifting to collide, hard, with her eyes.
He didn't look angry.
On the contrary his eyes seemed to gleam with something like affection into hers.
Maybe she had a fever.
Maybe she was hallucinating.
The pulse in her throat kicked because she knew what was going to happen next. And the world as she knew it contracted until all she heard was the sound of her breath, her racing heart and the clutch of arousal low in her belly.
His hand rose to cup her chin, the pad of his thumb whispered across her naked bottom lip and Anais held her breath.
"So beautiful," he said in a deep voice laced with need.
Oh God.
"Marcus, I don't think this is a good..." she said, sounding like she'd just run up ten flights of stairs.
Again, his thumb slid across her bottom lip as his head lowered and all the while those dark eyes burned into hers.
"Hush," he breathed into her mouth. "Just let me do this."
Then his mouth was on hers.
A hot, white light exploded behind her eyes, lava flowed under her skin to settle deep in her belly. Then her hands were in his hair. God, yes, yes, yes, she wanted this. She needed this. Her fingernails were digging into his skull as her body arched into the hard length of his. She felt the shape of his smile on her mouth as strong arms pulled her closer. It was a smile and a move of complete domination.
So she bit his bottom lip.
Tasted blood.
And he went absolutely still.
The immense strength of him, the muscles flexing, his heart thundering against hers as she waited for a retribution that never came, thrilled her.
Now she had the power and she rubbed her body against his like a kitten all soft and slow and needy. Deliberately she pressed herself against the hard length of his erection as her hand slipped from his hair to his neck. Then her tongue slid across his poor lip, licking and tasting the spot she'd seized with her teeth.
'More,' the soft voice whispered desperately in her ear. The taste of him went thick and spicy as it coated the taste buds of her tongue, the back of her throat. If she was going to go down for making a tiny mistake then she was going to go down with her wits about her and only go down after having had the joy of sex with Marcus Gillespie.
Who needed promises?
Who needed a happy ever after?
Not her.
Not now.
Marcus rumbled low in his throat as he closed his big strong arms around her, holding her so tight she could barely breathe. He kissed her slow and deep, his tongue and hers tangling in a dance of lust and she was floating in a burning river of sensation that ran hot and liquid through her system. The taste of him, the scent of him wound around her and she couldn't get enough.
'More,' the voice whispered in her head again.
Then his mouth found the vulnerable spot thundering in her throat and he sucked her flesh right into his mouth until her mind was nothing but dazed desire as her whole body trembled.
When he pulled back to rest his forehead on hers, Anais moaned in utter frustration.
His breath was coming faster and so was hers as his gaze settled, suspended, on her trembling mouth.
Her nipples went even harder under her jacket.
Anais tugged for him to release her but his grip tightened.
"You're over dressed for what I have planned for you today."
A tiny sound of desperation escaped from her throat.
"Plan?"
And she couldn’t help it, she shivered.
"I plan to touch you, to kiss every single inch of your skin." Marcus licked his lips as his eyes went black with arousal, a dark possession, that thrilled her.
"You know I don't want you to stop."
He slid her jacket down arms now held rigid at her sides and threw it in the general direction of a chair. His knuckles gently grazed her chin as he started to unbutton her silk blouse. Instantly her nipples went hard so fast she gasped.
Her belly ached deep down with an arousal that shocked her in its intensity.
She might have dreamed of this moment, but not like this, never like this.
The reality of his touch on her skin was so much better than any dream.
His deep voice rumbled in his chest.
"Let me touch you."
Anais stood absolutely still as he tugged her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt.
Her heart hammered a frantic tattoo in her throat as she tried to swallow, tried to believe what was happening.
"Marcus, please. I don't think..."
He pressed a long finger to her quivering lips.
Those eyes went cold and utterly ruthless.
"Think about what, Anais? You don’t have a choice if you want to become a partner."
Chapter Eight
What?
Sincerely shocked, Anais just stared into those deep blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to reel her in. It was as if he was two separate people.
One minute those eyes held something like affection for her and the next they'd gone cold and dark with what looked like possession. She'd seen the ruthless side of Marcus first hand during the long hours she'd worked for him and understood it, admired it even. A man didn't reach the pinnacle of a cutthroat career without being merciless. But he'd never directed that ruthlessness on her.
Until now.
He'd told her he wanted to kiss every part of her body and that was fine with her.
But now the pull of having her heart's desire, of becoming a partner in the company if she slept with him sank into her stunned brain. And that little voice in her head whispered, 'Why not?'
Why not?
Because she wasn't built that way, that was why not, she snapped back and told the voice to shut the hell up.
Again, she studied those eyes boring into hers and for a second she was almost certain he coul
d read her mind.
Or, was it possible that this was some sort of challenge? A test?
She wasn't putting up a fight, on the contrary, so why say that if she had sex with him she'd become a partner? Surely he knew she wasn't the type of woman to sleep her way to the top?
Her stomach dropped as disappointment in him warred with her vicious arousal. The man she’d admired and put on a pedestal had just proved he was the same as all the rest who couldn’t see beyond a pretty face and a lush body.
No matter how hard she’d worked to play down her appearance her looks had always been her Achilles heel. In the office she’d tied her black hair back in an unflattering style, wore little or no make-up along with buttoned up shirts and suits but it never seemed to make any difference.
Guys, even the married ones, always looked at her with hungry desire.
That muscle in his jaw ticked again as those amazing eyes went too dark and intense and she couldn’t look away as he opened her blouse and peeled it off her shoulders.
Oh, God.
She couldn't think logically and swallowed audibly as those eyes burned a path over her slim shoulders and small breasts encased in a tissue thin bra of ivory silk.
She wanted him.
She didn't want him.
Not like this.
"I don't understand, Marcus." And that was an understatement. "Surely there must be another way I can make it up to you?"
He quirked a dark brow and his voice went silky smooth.
"You want to make it up to me?"
Sheer panic made her breath hitch as his hands tested the weight of her small breasts, as his thumbs rubbed the oversensitive peaks nestled in her sheer bra.
Fright that she was about to throw herself at him made her voice high. "Of course I do! I’ll do anything you want."
"I don’t think you quite realize what I want, Anais."
Tears flooded her eyes.
She did understand.
He wanted something with no strings and she wanted him, too.
Just not like this.
She wanted the man who'd kissed her last night and just now.
The man she adored.
Not this horrible cold and calculating stranger who was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her.
"Marcus, I made a stupid little mistake."
His fingers slid the skinny straps of her bra very slowly down her arms to her elbows and his deep voice went husky with arousal.
"Do as I say and I’ll overlook your stupid little mistake."
Her eyes flickered from his, to his mouth, to his groin and the need she saw tented there made her breath hitch.
"You want to make love to me?"
She needed to hear him say it, to spell out his needs in words of one syllable.
This wasn’t a dream.
This was a nightmare.
And was she going to let him have her?
The last time she’d been with a man was at University and it hadn’t been a great experience.
Marcus gave a soft laugh.
"I'm going take you hard and in every conceivable way."
Astounded, not only at the words but at the intention behind those words, Anais saw a flash of something burn too bright in his eyes, quickly hidden, as he turned away and began to unbutton his shirt.
Anger with him, and with herself, at last began to scorch her cheeks.
"Don't you realise there's no need to bribe me to have sex with you?" she said to his bare back and couldn't help but admire the rippling muscles under his smooth skin. And that butt was so tight she wanted her hands on him, now.
"Don't you realise I always reward an act of personal sacrifice?" he responded in a rough voice that held something she couldn't understand.
She blinked.
He thought it was a personal sacrifice for her to make love with him?
Was he crazy?
What was it about him that made her want to scream in utter frustration.
"Don’t you worry, darlin’," he said without missing a beat. "You’ll be screaming all right, but in a good way."
Stunned that he'd somehow read her mind, Anais opened her mouth and then it snapped shut as he turned and stood before her with his hands on his hips.
She couldn’t drag her eyes from his amazing body. He was built like a Gladiator. All smooth skin over sculpted muscle. The need to touch that skin with her fingertips, her mouth, and shockingly, the need to sink her teeth into him nearly brought her to her knees. The urge to bite him was so strong her mouth watered.
What was the matter with her?
His watchful eyes never left hers as he began to unbuckle his belt.
Those deep blue eyes burned a path over her body.
"Strip," he said in a voice that chilled her to the bone.
Controlling.
Dominant.
She'd read about men who liked to be dominant in the bedroom, of course she had. But surely there had to be trust between consenting adults before they explored their sexuality in that way?
And then she realised that she did trust him.
However, Anais wasn't sure she had it in her to submit.
It wasn't in her nature.
Her hands trembled as they covered her small breasts now, even as they swelled in a way that caught her breath in her throat.
How could she be so turned on and so terrified at the same time?
"Marcus, please..."
"It’s up to you. Do exactly as I say or lose your job."
His voice sounded hard and totally devoid of emotion.
Right there was the clarity of her situation. And Anais decided she hated him for doing this to her. Hated him. But walking away before she'd had a taste of what it was like to feel him buried deep within her was simply not an option.
She had a choice to make.
A choice she knew had the potential to change her life.
She wanted him, but not at any price. And she certainly was not prepared to turn her back on her ethics and values. So she would have sex with him, however he wanted it. And afterwards she would tell him she didn't want the job and walk away with her integrity and her pride intact.
The small smile that curved that fabulous mouth, made her nervous and now those dark eyes were hot with a burning desire. And the heavy pulse of his need, thick and strong jerked between his legs.
Her hands were trembling so much she fumbled with the button and zip of her skirt.
It pooled to the floor and she stepped out still in her shoes.
Her stockings were sheer holdups in black silk.
She moved to take off her shoes and his rough command stopped her in her tracks,
"Leave the stockings and the high heels."
She froze.
Kinky sex?
How could this be happening?
The trembling afflicting her body made her legs weak.
Anais stood before him in her matching bra and thong.
"Marcus," she whimpered.
“Strip, Anais,” he ordered, his voice deep and throaty with arousal.
Now she went hot and then cold.
The room spun.
Perhaps this was a dream?
None of it, the unsnapping of her bra, the way it dropped from her nerveless fingers or how the way her soft breasts swayed felt real.
His sudden intake of breath made her squeeze her eyes tight.
"Darlin’, you are so beautiful," he said, his voice no more than a whisper.
Her fingers plucked the silky ribbon of her thong.
"Marcus?" her plea was no more than a whisper of breath.
In response he whipped the slim belt out of the loops of his jeans, undid the button and pulled down the zip before he moved into her.
His hand rose to cup the vulnerable curve of her neck.
It was a move that screamed, control, possession.
He pulled her close.
And all the while those fabulous eyes never left hers.
&nbs
p; A sensation of drowning, sinking into a deep blue sea overwhelmed her.
Anais licked her lips as the scent of his shampoo and clean salty sweat made her head spin.
The heel of his hand pressed hard against the swollen flesh between her thighs in a way that again screamed ownership and her mouth went bone dry.
His breath scorched her cheeks as he inhaled.
"I love your scent. You’ve wanted this for a long time, Anais."
Her cheeks burned with a potent mix of shame and arousal.
He was right.
She did want him and wondered how she'd resisted the constant tension and heightened state of awareness that had besieged them for too many months. How had she resisted a sexual chemistry that her intuition told her might be so catastrophic to her well-being it had the ability to destroy her.
If she did this Anais knew she would never, ever, be the same again.
And her body was responding to his, to the fantastic scent of his peppery cologne, turned on healthy male and something else. Something dark and exotic that sang in her blood as it raced through her veins.
A toxic mix of a merciless arousal, and deep humiliation that she simply could not resist this man, made her breath sob in her throat in hard little pants.
"Please, Marcus."
She gasped.
With a quick tug, he ripped her thong.
Then her whole body jolted as his clever fingers slicked across her swollen arousal, exploring the over sensitive flesh in a way that had her pelvis tilt back and forth against his hand.
She’d never felt anything like it, never behaved like this.
Her body was humming from her scalp to the tips of her toes.
Her gasp of pleasure had him nuzzle the delicate skin of her neck.
"My kind have a heightened olfactory sense." Dimly Anais realised his words made absolutely no sense to her. But the way he was touching her she couldn't think, couldn't breathe. "You’re so wet, so hot and so ready for me," he growled in her ear before nipping her tender lobe and licking the tiny sting in a way that made her flesh quiver.
Then he wrapped the belt around her wrists and pulled it tight locking her hands together.
And then her brain was unable to think at all.
His thigh spread her legs wider.
