Page 50 of The Couple Behind the Headlines

Jack felt his jaw tighten but he was pretty sure that was his only reaction to her string of questions. He knew his expression was unreadable and his eyes were flat because it was a look he’d become adept at adopting over the years. ‘Does it matter?’

‘It shouldn’t, but strangely it does.’

‘Why?’ he drawled, stamping down hard on the hope that surged through him at that. ‘You’re leaving. What do you care?’

She took a quick, deep breath. ‘Look, if you want to finish things, Jack, then

all you have to do is say. I’m a big girl. I can take it.’

‘I don’t.’ The words were out before he could stop them, and as he watched the tension in her body ease a little, it struck him that if he wanted to remain in control of this conversation he was going to have to be very careful.

‘So you want to carry on?’ she asked.

‘Do you?’

‘I still have a while before I have to leave, so, yes, of course I do. But not like this.’

‘Like what?’

Imogen let out a sigh. ‘Well, the sex …’ she began and then tailed off, her cheeks reddening.

Jack went cold. Of course. That was what this boiled down to. Sex. It always had and he’d been an idiot to think that she might have come here for anything else. To think she might actually be missing him or something. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ he said flatly.

‘Well,’ she began again, and then her courage clearly failed her because she gave him a shaky kind of smile and made a lame stab at humour. ‘Nothing apart from there being not enough …’

‘I see,’ said Jack, nodding slowly and letting his gaze drift over her. Her hair was down and tumbled over her shoulders. The jacket she was wearing fitted her as if she’d been stitched into it and her skirt was tight and short. Her endless legs were bare and he could see her red-varnished toes peeping out of her very high, very sexy shoes. As the memory of how those legs felt wrapped around him flew into his head, desire surged though him, and he pushed himself off the desk. ‘Then I suppose I’d better see what I can do to remedy the situation.’

Reaching out, he caught her by the waist. Imogen jerked her gaze to his and gasped, but he merely pulled her tight against him and twisted her round to press her against the edge of the desk. And before she got it into her head to demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing, before she could protest about the dozens of people on the other side of the door, and certainly before his common sense could wake up and object, he slammed his mouth down on hers, hot and hard and furious.

To his grim relief, Imogen put up no resistance. As their tongues met and tangled she moaned and melted against him. Her hands whipped up to bury themselves in his hair and his shot down to the hem of her skirt. Pushing it up, Jack gripped her thighs and lifted her onto the desk.

She let out a soft whimper and he reminded himself that this was what she’d come here for. This was what she wanted from him. All she’d ever wanted from him, would ever want from him and it would be the last time.

Imogen tore her mouth from his. ‘You know, I really didn’t come here for sex, Jack,’ she panted.

‘Are you sure about that?’ he muttered, slipping his fingers beneath her knickers, stroking her between her legs before thrusting them inside her.

‘One hundred per cent,’ she gasped, and as he felt her muscles instantly clench around his fingers another great wave of desire slammed into him.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he said, his voice rough and unsteady with every volatile thing churning around inside him.

She pressed herself closer. ‘Don’t you dare.’

As he rubbed and stroked her hands shot to the buckle of his belt and wrenched it open. She yanked his zip down and then shoved his trousers and shorts down and wrapped her hand around the hot, hard length of him.

Jack inhaled sharply, lurched to one side to grab his wallet, which lay on the desk, and pulled out a condom.

And then he was tugging her knickers to one side, holding her hips in place and driving into her. He crushed his mouth to hers to swallow her hoarse groan.

As he pounded into her she clung to his shoulders and wrapped herself around him and his mind blew. It was frantic and raw, her desperation matching his own, and he couldn’t hold himself back. His thrusts became increasingly harder and faster, and then she was whimpering and moaning and letting out a harsh muffled cry and he was coming with a scorching rush of pleasure while she shattered and convulsed around him.

In the aftermath, with his head buried in the crook of her neck, her body shuddering against his and their ragged breathing the only sounds in the room, Jack shook and something inside him cracked open and fell apart. The vestiges of his crumbling defences vanished, and, with his pulse thundering and drowning out the voice in his head telling him he was insane, he heard himself mutter, ‘Stay.’

Imogen stilled in Jack’s embrace, her heart slowing right down and the heat and pleasure dissipating like a warm breath in cold air. Something told her he wasn’t talking about right now, and that something made her shiver, despite the heat of the body still plastered against her.

And come to think of it how the hell had that happened anyway? One minute he’d been all steely calm and icy control while she’d waffled and dithered and generally floundered in bewilderment at his attitude, and the next he’d been grabbing her and ravishing her right here on his desk. While she assisted.

But whatever the reason for it the intensity of his kisses and the frantic desperation of his movements had been irresistible. It hadn’t been soulless and she couldn’t regret it.

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