might as well tell you that I don’t like the fact that you don’t respect me.”
Sam was silent. She leaned over and picked up more papers from her desk but when she tried to stand up, she found that Sam was leaning over her, his chest against her back. And damn if he didn’t feel good. She tried to push those thoughts aside but his hands slipped around her waist. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t like me touching you?” he asked, his hands slipping under her silk shirt, his fingers finding her nipples and teasing them to life.
The papers she’d been holding fell out of her hands and she had to lean against her desk as the desire slammed into her system. “Sam, don’t…” she said but there was no anger in her voice. And no real conviction.
“Don’t what?” he asked, pulling her skirt up to her waist. “Don’t show you how much you’re body wants me? Don’t show you that we are made for each other?”
His hand tore her soft, silk and lace underwear away from her body. He dropped them into his pocket, loving the feel of her without underwear. His hands slipped between her legs and he whispered in her ear. “You want me, Marabeth, don’t you?”
She could no longer take it. She needed him furiously. His hands were caressing her, finding all her pulse points and reducing her down to a quivering mass of need. “Yes. Please Sam,” was all she could say. It wasn’t a lie.
“Tell me you’ll order your wedding dress this afternoon. Order something soft and feminine, Marabeth,” he said.
“Yes, anything,” she said. “Please,” she begged.
Marabeth heard his zipper slide down, then felt his hardness slide into her. He reached around, one hand covering her breast while the other teased her clitoris. It was too much too fast. She couldn’t stop herself from climaxing, her head thrown back against his shoulder and she had to smother her cry for fear of someone outside her office hearing. The last thing she wanted was for her staff to find her like this.
When the shivers finally died down, she caught her breath and moved away. She didn’t even realize that her underwear was missing in her haste to get some space between her and Sam.
“I have a meeting,” he said, standing up and moving away, But not before he took her into his arms and kissed her. “Get your dress ordered. I’ll see you at lunch in an hour,” he said. Without another word, he left her office.
She walked over to her chair and sat down. Fell down, was more like it. As she stared at the closed door, her anger welled up inside her. She didn’t blame him completely. He was definitely taking advantage of her body’s reaction to him but she blamed herself for being so vulnerable to him.
Yes, she could marry him and have a completely satisfying sexual relationship with the man. But then what? Would he still treat her like a silly little girl unable to make decisions by herself?
She fumed for the next hour, unwilling to go to his office and find him before their appointed time. She walked steadily towards the dining room, glad that she’d ordered lunch to be served there, instead of in some place more private. In the dining room, there would be servants only one doorway away.
Sam walked in reading a report and giving instructions to the man hastily writing notes behind him. When he saw her, standing by the window with her arms crossed over her chest, Sam quickly handed the report to his assistant and dismissed him.
He knew he’d made a mistake earlier today. But he’d been so furious to learn that she was still resisting making their relationship permanent. He wanted her physically but he also wanted everyone else to know that she was his. And his alone.
He stood in front of her, hands in his pockets and looked down at her furious face. “I’m sorry,” he said.
All of Marabeth’s anger seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders lost their tension and she smiled tentatively at him. If he was willing to make a small concession, she should be big enough to do it as well.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“You wanted to talk to me,” he said.
“Yes. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Starving. But I want to hear that you made an appointment with your dress designer first.”
Marabeth laughed. “What exactly are you sorry for?”
“For making you angry. Nothing else.”
“Not even