well, they've got till end of day to accept the offer or it's off the table. Yes, that's exactly how I want you to put it. Next item. I'm not satisfied with the bids on the Dressier project. Make it clear that if our usual lumber supplier can't do better, we'll look to alternate sources.'
He glanced over absently, took a sip of his coffee as Darcy unbuttoned her coat. Then inhaled caffeine like air- and choked on it.
The coat dropped to the floor, and he saw she wore nothing beneath it but his bracelet, high heels, and a very feline smile.
'Perfect,' he managed. 'Jesus, you're perfect.' As
Finkle's voice buzzed in his ear, he simply hung up, got to his feet.
'I take it business hours are over.'
'They are.'
She looked around the room, angled her head. 'I don't see my glass of wine.'
He discovered it was just possible to speak when a man's heart was in his throat. 'I forgot it.' His breath already ragged, he crossed to her. 'I'll get it later.'
She tipped her head back to keep her eyes on his, and saw what she'd wanted to see. Desire, raw as a fresh wound. 'I've a powerful thirst.'
'Later' was all he could say before his mouth came down on hers.
He possessed. With quick, hard hands, restless lips, he took what she'd offered. Gave her what she'd wanted. Desperation was what she'd wanted from him, that jagged edge of need as dangerous as it was primitive. She'd come to him naked and shameless to lure the animal.
He was rough, and his recklessness added a slick layer of excitement. No control now, nor the need for it. So she lost herself in the wicked spell of her own brewing.
He shoved her against the wall, feasting on her throat, drugged on that sharply sexual taste of perfumed female flesh. And his hands streaked over her, bruised over her, greedy for the curves, the swells, the secrets of woman.
Hot, wet, vibrant.
His fingers slid over her, into her, driving her up. Even as he felt her body shudder, felt the violence of the orgasm rip through her, he looked into her eyes. In the dark and clouded blue, he thought he saw the flash of triumph.
He might have been able to pull back then, to clear his head enough to find his finesse, but she moved against him, one lazy, stretching arch, and her arms twined around him like chains wrapped in velvet.
'More.' She purred it. 'Give me more, and take more as well. Right here.' She nipped her teeth into his lip. 'Right now.'
If she'd been a witch murmuring the darkest of incantations, he'd have been no less spellbound. He'd have sworn he caught the scent of hellfire as her mouth once again captured his.
Then there was madness, fevered and glorious. In her own triumph she found it, that wild pleasure, the terror- laced delight of having a man turn savage. And allowing it. Craving it.
Her blood beat as frantically as his, her hands raced, as urgent and as rough as those that raced over her.
She tore his shirt, and reveled in the harsh sound of cotton rending at the seam. And her teeth dug into his shoulder when he pushed her over the edge again.
A haze filled his vision, thick and red. Her nails bit into his back, glorious little points of pain. His blood was a drumbeat, a primitive tattoo in his head, heart, loins. He plunged into her where they stood, greedily swallowing her ragged cry.
Each thrust was like another step on a thin wire stretched over both heaven and hell. Whichever way they fell, it couldn't be stopped. Knowing it, he dragged her head back, kept his hand fisted in her hair, his eyes on her face.
'I want to see you.' He panted it out. 'I want to see you feel me.'
'I can't feel anything but you, Trevor.' She tumbled off the wire, clasping him against her on the fall. And flying out with her, he didn't give a damn where they landed.
He stayed where he was, fighting for air, for his sanity. The press of his body kept her upright as he braced a hand on the wall for balance.
She'd gone limp, as he knew now she did after loving. He told himself he'd find the energy, in just a minute, to get them both into bed.
'I can't stay like this,' she murmured against his shoulder.
'I know. Just a second.'
'Maybe we could just slide down to the floor here for a bit of a while. I can't feel me legs, anyway. You make me dizzy, Trevor.'
It made him laugh, and he turned his head, buried his face in her hair. 'I'd say I'd carry you to bed, but I'd never make it and it would ruin the image of manly prowess. You make me weak, Darcy.'
'It'd take quite a bit to spoil the image after this.'
'Well, in that case.' He slipped an arm behind her knees, lifted her. His hair was tousled, his eyes sleepy and satisfied.
She toyed with the silver disk dangling from the chain, closed her fingers around it. She started to answer his grin, then could only stare as her heart landed right at his feet.
'What is it?' Alarmed by the shock in her eyes and the quick paling of her cheeks, he crossed quickly to the bed to set her down. 'Did I hurt you?'
'No.' Oh, Jesus, oh, God. Holy Mother of God. 'Just dizzy for a minute, as I said. I'm better now, but I still have that powerful thirst. I could dearly use that wine, if you don't mind.'
'Sure.' Not quite convinced, he skimmed his knuckles over her cheek. 'Just sit there. I'll be right back.'
The minute he was out of the room, she grabbed a bed pillow and pummeled it viciously with her fists. Damn it all to hell and back again, she'd gotten caught in a web of her own spinning. The man was supposed to be bewitched by her, intrigued, frustrated, satisfied, stupefied, and willing to be her slave before she was done.
And now she'd kicked her own self in the ass and gone and fallen in love with him.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. She pounded the pillow again, then hugged it against her as her stomach took a deep, diving dip. How was she supposed to wrap the man around her finger when she was already wrapped around his?
It had been such a good plan, too: She would use her wiles, her lures, her charm, her temper, everything at her disposal. Then when he was caught, as surely he would have been, she'd have been free to snip him loose or keep him. There would have been time to decide which suited her best by then.
Well, this was God's punishment, she supposed. Fate's little joke. She'd been so certain she could keep her heart in check until she decided if she should love him or not. Now she had no choice at all.
For the first time in her life, her heart wasn't her own. And a terrifying sensation it was.
She bit her knuckles, worrying over it. What did she do now? How could she think just now?
It had been all right when it was a kind of game. It hadn't done more than nip at her temper to think that the manner of man Trevor was wouldn't be serious about a woman such as herself. Now, well, it was a great deal more important. And more infuriating.
Because, she thought as that temper began to bubble and burn away panic, if the likes of him thought he could toss her aside just because he had a fancy education and property and money to burn, he was very much mistaken in the matter. The bastard.
She was in love with him, so she would have him. As soon as she figured out the best way to get him.
Her head came up, a she-wolf prepared to bare fangs, when she heard him coming up the stairs. It took all her control, and all her skill, to bury that instinct, force that temper back, and greet him with a silky smile.
'Okay now?' He came to her, held out a glass of white wine.
She took it, sipped delicately. 'Never better,' she said and patted the bed beside her. 'Come sit by me, darling, and tell me all about your day.'
Her sugary tone had him wary, but he sat, tapped his glass against hers. 'The end of it was the best part.'
She laughed and walked her fingers up his thigh. 'And who said it was over?'
Brenna wasn't the least bit pleased about being hauled off the job at nine in the morning. She'd argued, cursed,
