A Price Worth Paying - By Trish Morey Page 0,43

all important; that promised that this moment was pivotal to her entire existence.

She believed it as he swept her into his kiss, and swept any remaining logic away in the process. His breath was hot as his mouth slipped from her mouth to her throat and she gasped in the night air. His hands left hot trails on her back and she arched against him, no longer bothering to pretend it wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be.

He was hot. So hot. And her need turned suddenly combustible, from flood into flame, threatening to consume her with its heated promise.

And pressed against him, her thigh between his, her belly against his hip, the rigid column of his erection promised more heat. Promised all she needed and more.

Much more.

She wanted it. She wanted him to fill her and to feel him deep inside her and that need was premier.

Despite his blackmail. Despite his smug certainty that it would happen.

And she learned something about herself then, in the scorching heat of his hot mouth and stroking tongue and seeking, inquisitive hands. She learned that she could tolerate blackmail, forgive arrogance and sweep aside the worst character faults, if this was to be her reward.

‘I want you,’ he said, wrenching himself breathlessly from his kiss, one hand curled around her breast, his fingers stroking over her nipple until it was achingly hard, his other hand sliding down to tantalisingly cup the curve of her behind. And his declaration was so raw and honest that even if his touch hadn’t already been electric and set her senses on fire she could not deny it.

‘I know,’ she gasped.

‘You want me,’ he said, a statement rather than a question, and there was a challenge in his eyes, a challenge for her to give in and admit it and utter the word she could not say.

She did, but still she shook her head, if you could call the half-hearted movement a shake. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘That’s just the point,’ he growled, low in his throat, hesitating just a moment before sucking her into the whirlpool of his kiss. ‘It doesn’t have to.’

CHAPTER TEN

IT SHOULD MEAN something. She wanted so much to disagree with him, she wanted to argue the case for the affirmative. Except with her body jammed tight up against his and his mouth locked on hers, his seeking tongue like an inferno to her senses, it was hard to think straight. It was hard to remember why it was so important.

And in the end logic got swept away by the tide of need. Making love with this man wasn’t just a contract condition—an obligation. Making love with Alesander was as inevitable as the constant whoosh of the tide or the falling of the night or the rising of the moon. There was no stopping it. It was always going to happen.

She was in the lift before she realised they’d somehow crossed the road, barefoot and locked in each other’s arms, lost in sensation. She was consumed with heat and him and a need that threatened to engulf her.

The lift was slow.

Alesander was faster.

He had her backed against the wall, one hand tangled in her hair, the other sweeping aside the layers of her skirt in a bid to reach her heated flesh. She gasped, the touch of his hand on her thigh searing, electric, and her body pulsed and ached and vaguely she thought that if the lift didn’t hurry up he might just take her here and now.

His hand glided higher, his thumb skimmed her mound and a million nerve endings screamed inside her and she wished he damned well would.

But before he could the lift doors opened and they tumbled out together across the private lobby. He pulled off his jacket while he fumbled for the key, still locked in their kiss. His tie followed as the door opened and he put his hands to her shoulders and put her away from him, his dark eyes almost black with need, his breathing choppy. ‘I was going to do this slowly,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think I can wait that long.’

Her simmering blood rejoiced. She didn’t want to wait. She couldn’t. Now that she was on this course, now she had made her choice, she didn’t want time to reflect or analyse or allow logic to intervene. There would be time for reflection later. Maybe even time for regret.

But that was later.

Right now she had other priorities.

‘I don’t want to wait either.’

And he