Page 31 of Obsession

And for safety’s sake, no one could connect to the main network by phone. It was a security measure that was enforced at length.

“What exactly do you do that requires so much security? Or are you just that much of a control freak?” I asked, stabbing him in the chest.

The muscle in his jaw jumped.

“It’s glass, Mr. Carson. These are not in the same league as state secrets.” My temper was crashing into all the anger I’d been carrying. I should have held my tongue. I knew it. There was even a little tiny voice inside my head screaming at me. But see, it was really tiny. And I so didn’t want to listen to it.

His nostrils flared, but he stood there and took each poke.

His chest was radiating heat. I was still overheated from my run through the lobby, and my temper blasting out of my damn pores. But the coolness of the vestibule was pushing at me from the back, and here he was, so warm and vibrant.

So freaking big and silent.

I couldn’t help myself, I pushed him back a step and stomped my foot. “Talk, dammit.”

His hands were fisted at his sides. I could practically feel the vibration of his muscles and the seething frustration shimmering off him.

Suddenly, he was gripping a handful of my hair, dragging my head back, just before he covered my mouth with his.

Shock left me immobile for a moment. His kiss was powerful, and not the least bit tentative. I was swept into the breath-stealing undertow that was Blake Carson.

The force of his kiss nearly had me stumbling backward, but somehow I held my ground. His tongue swept across my lips, and I opened instinctively.

There were no bumping noses or misalignments. There was only his lips and tongue gliding along mine like a tempest. He was too tall for me to reach for his shoulders without going up on my toes, so I gripped his vest and held on.

I should have ripped my lips away and took five, ten, maybe twenty steps back. Okay, so that would’ve put me on the ceiling of this glass box, but I should have been doinganythingexcept kissing him.

But I didn’t pull away. I hummed into his mouth and hooked my arm under the warmth of his suit jacket. The silk liner was warm from his body and slithered over the back of my hand and the top of my forearm. My skin was utterly alive. But the best part was the tantalizing terrain of muscles under my palm. Even through the cotton shirt and satin-backed vest, there was no denying a world of wonder hidden under his suit.

Warm.

Hard.

Sohard.

I couldn’t get enough. My other arm snaked around his back until I was wrapped around him like a freaking vine.

Finally, the kiss eased a bit. He didn’t pull away, though.

Drunk on his taste and touch, I realized I was the one about to climb his body like a damn tree.

Wow. He was going to think I was some love-starved freak.

I was, but he didn’t need to know that.

He’d started the kiss, so it wasn’t my fault. All I knew was that I didn’t want to step back and see pity, or hear, “Aww, that was nice.”

I managed to open my eyes, but he didn’t step back. Not at all, actually.

In fact, his eyes slitted open as he continued to kiss me. The gold had obliterated the green as he watched me. When he nipped my lower lip, I fell right back into the kiss.

This time, his free arm went around me, and he lifted me off the ground. His breath poured into my mouth as I squeaked. He pinned me against the glass and dragged my knee up and hooked it around his waist.

Hard.

Yeah, hard all over. Oh my gosh…hard.

I’d never had that I-love-to-feel-tiny thing with guys.

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