The Pride Of Jared Mackade

you think you're going to seduce me here in your office, have me rolling over your fancy new carpet with you while your secretary's out to lunch...'

Jared walked over, closed the door. Locked it. Arched a brow. 'Yes?'

She tossed her hair back, leaned a hip on the desk. 'You're absolutely right.'

He shrugged off his jacket, hung it on the brass coat hook by the door. His tie followed. Keeping his eyes on hers, he crossed back. One by one, he loosened the buttons of her shirt.

'Your clothes are damp.'

'It's raining.'

Very slowly, very deliberately, he peeled the bright cotton away. His eyes never left hers as he slipped a finger under the front hook of her bra. Never left hers when he felt the quick quiver of her skin and heard the little catch in her breathing.

'I want you every time I see you. I want you when I don't see you.' With a flick of his thumb and forefinger, he unsnapped the hook. 'I want you even after I've had you.' Lightly he traced his fingertips over the curve of her breast. 'You obsess me, Savannah, the way no one and nothing ever has.'

She reached out for him, but he shook his head and lowered her arms to her sides again. 'No, let me. Just let me.'

His thumbs brushed over her nipples, his eyes stayed focused on her face. 'I lose my mind when I touch you,' he murmured. 'This time I want to watch you lose yours.'

Fingers, thumbs, palms, cruised over her. Rough, then gentle, tender, then demanding, as if he was refusing to let any one mood rule. Driven, she pulled at him, tried to tug him closer. But each time she did, he stopped, patiently lowered her arms until she had no choice but to grip the edge of the desk and let him have his way.

No one had ever made love to her like this, as if she were essential, as if she were all there was and all there needed to be. As if her pleasure were paramount. Pinpoint sensations percolated along her skin, chased by others, whisper-soft, then still more that seeped slyly through flesh to blood and bone.

She arched back on a keening moan when he closed his teeth over her, shot her to some rugged ground on the border between pleasure and pain.

'Just take me.' Her arms whipped around him, her body straining, pulsing.

But he took her hands, locked them to his as he kissed her toward delirium. Her mouth was a feast, full of hot flavor and a hunger that matched his own. But this time he wasn't content to sink into it, or her. He used his teeth to torment, his tongue to tease, until her breath came in tearing gasps.

'Let me touch you,' she demanded.

'Not this time. Not yet.' He closed her hands over the edge of the desk again, held them there while his mouth raced to her throat, down her neck, over those tensed and beautiful shoulders. 'I'm going to take you, Savannah.' He eased back, because he wanted her to see his face, and the unshakable purpose there. 'I'm going to take you inch by inch. The way no one ever has.'

For her pleasure, he told himself. But he knew a part of it was his own pride. He wanted to show her that no man before, and no man after, could make her feel what he could.

So he showed her, traveling like lightning down her torso, her flesh damp now, not from rain, but from passion.

She gave herself over to him as she had never done with any man. Surrender complete, she braced herself on the desk and let him ravage her, body and mind.

He tugged off her shoes. She let her head fall back, let herself moan deep as he eased her jeans low on her hips, caressed that revealed flesh with his lips. She shuddered, nearly sobbed, as his hands kneaded and his mouth closed over her, fire to fire.

She crested fast and hard. Terrifying. Wonderful. He never stopped, and as the pleasure whipped her ruthlessly higher, she prayed he never would. Naked, stripped of clothes and all defenses, she could do nothing but experience, absorb and give.

He'd never known this kind of desire. To take and to take, knowing as he did that he was filling her with unspeakable pleasure. The blood swam in his head as he felt her peak yet again, heard that breathless cry catch in her throat.

The strong muscles in her legs were quivering. He ran his tongue over them, lingering over the symbol she'd branded herself with, before making his way, purposely, greedily, up that long body.

Her eyes were closed. He used his mouth only to keep her poised and ready for him as he stripped off his shirt. He toed off his shoes, whipped his trousers aside. And dragged her to the floor.

The animal that had been pacing restlessly inside him sprang free. He drove himself into her, mindlessly, shuddering with a dark thrill when she cried out his name, hissing with hot pleasure as her nails scraped his back.

It was all heat and speed and plunging bodies, a rhythmic, tribal beat of flesh against flesh. The blood hammered in his head, his heart, his loins, relentlessly. She arched up to him, straining, straining.

His vision grayed, his world contracted. He emptied himself into her.

Savannah thought, if she really tried, she might be able to crawl to where her clothes were heaped. And she would try, she told herself. In just another minute or two.

Right now, it was so lovely and decadent to lie there on the antique carpet in Jared's quietly elegant office with his body heavy on hers.

She had been, she realized, thoroughly and mind-numbingly ravished. As exciting as making love with him had been before, this was a different level entirely. She certainly hoped they would strive for it now and again in the future.

'I have to get up,' she murmured.

'Why?'

'To make certain I'm not paralyzed.'

'Did I hurt you?'

She kept her eyes closed, let her lips curve. 'Another few minutes of that, and you'd have killed me.' Making the effort, she found the energy to stroke a hand through his hair. 'Thank you.'

'Anytime.' He let out a long, heartfelt sigh before he pressed a kiss to her throat. 'Of course, I don't know how I'm ever going to work in here again.' Moaning a little, he rolled off her. 'I'll have a client sitting in the chair while I go over the details of his case, and I'll get a flash of you leaning naked against the desk.'

She laughed, then discovered she really did have to crawl. Her legs might never support her again. 'He'll get suspicious when you get a stupid grin on your face.'

'And start drooling.' Spent, Jared reached for his shirt. He angled his head to get a glimpse of her tattoo. 'Hell of a way to kick off the new color scheme.'

'Didn't you ever kick off the old one?'

He had to concentrate on remembering how to button his shirt, so it took him a minute. The snort of laughter came first. 'You mean me and Barbara? I'm not sure she ever unbuttoned her double-breasted blazer in here. Not her style.'

In her underwear, Savannah turned to study him. 'You were married to her, right?'

'That's what it said on the license.'

'Why?'

'It has to say that. It's the law.'

'Why were you married to her?'

'We had a lot in common. I thought.' He shrugged it off. 'We both wanted to establish ourselves in our respective professions, knew a lot of the same people, attended a lot of the same functions.'

It disturbed him still how empty it sounded when he pulled things apart and looked at all the pieces. 'She was a sensible, reasonable and sophisticated woman. That's what I wanted—or thought I did. A kind of contrast to the hotheaded-troublemaker image I'd carved out for myself when I was younger.'

'You wanted dignity.' Still sitting on the floor, Savannah buttoned her shirt.

'That's accurate enough. It seemed important then.'

'It's still important. It always is.' Though she realized it would sound a bit foolish while she tugged herself into her jeans, she said it anyway. 'I always wanted it, too. Not in the double-breasted-suit sort of way. Not