Page 77 of The Terms of Their Affair

The closet was dark, and musty, despite the fact Cressida had made sure the cleaners had run over the mansion with a fine tooth comb in the week leading up to the party. He dominated the small space with his size, scent and the glowering set of his features. Maggie was shaking like a leaf, her body in some sort of sensory overload as it finally sunk in. It was him.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered urgently, her body pressed as far back against the wall as possible.

“Shut up,” his voice was firm. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her forward, connecting her with his body. “Do not speak.”

Maggie opened her mouth to make some indignant remark, but he took advantage of it and lowered his lips, taking complete possession of her. She moaned, low in her throat, as remembered sensations flooded through her. Bit by bit, her body seemed to lose strength, until she was gripping his shoulders as much for support as a need for contact.

“Do not speak,” he repeated firmly, lifting her skirt and gripping her butt with his bare hands. The cupboard was dark, but she could just make out his outline from a tiny sliver of light that the crack in the door allowed. His expression was tormented, and furious. “I could wring your neck, do you know that?”

Maggie was not afraid. Though his anger was impossible to comprehend, she did not fear him. She knew the passion that ran through him found expression in sensual pleasure rather than violence. “And why would you do that?”

He seemed to be waging some kind of silent battle, his face contorted with emotion as he struggled to silence what he knew he should not say. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” He demanded finally, his fingers firm on her shoulders.

“Find out what?” She responded with genuine innocence.

He hissed from between his teeth. “That you set me up!” He shook his head. “You are the lowest of the low. Worse than a prostitute, for you did not give me the decency of knowing I was a party to a business transaction.”

She gaped, her mind blown open by his assertion. So many questions, she said the first one that came to mind. “How did you find out?”

He shook his head, waving her question aside. “It is of no importance. I do know, and I hate you for what you did. To me, and no doubt dozens of other poor arseholes who were hooked by your gorgeous body and willing sexuality.”

Maggie bit down on her lower lip. She’d never slept with a single one of her targets until that night. And she’d not gone on an agency job since. “It’s not like that,” she said quietly, desperation making her voice quiver.

“Are you refuting the fact that you went to my hotel to show me in a compromising position? To advantage my ex-wife’s divorce petition?”

Maggie’s chest was lifting and falling rapidly as each breath burned through her. What could she say? He was right to feel angry. But he was angry at having been caught.

She tilted her chin at an angle that clearly stated her willingness to argue the point. “I didn’t do anything except show up at a bar that you happened to be in. You hit on me, publicly and obviously.” She squeezed her eyes shut as the detailed memory she’d blocked out for two years came flooding back to her. “If you were not an unfaithful pig, your wife would not have had any photographs to use, would she?”

He exhaled an angry breath. He stood, chest pressed to her breast, mouth just an inch or so from hers. He was quiet, except for his ragged breathing, for so long that Maggie wondered if he intended to speak again. “You do not know how long I have waited for this.” And though she couldn’t see him well enough, she could hear the bitter grin in his voice.

“For what?” She asked, her eyes trying to find his in the darkness.

“To find you again. I’ve fantasised about how I could repay your despicable behaviour that night. I didn’t know until now what form that payback would take.”

Bang, bang, bang, her heart was thumping against her ribcage, and a cold sweat had broken out on her forehead.

“Oh, yes? And what form is that?” She employed her iciest tone, and somehow, managed to sound reasonably calm.

“Isn’t it obvious?” His fingers were firm as he pushed her dress down, exposing her breasts. “You might have been working that night, but no one can fake the kind of pleasure you experienced.” He cupped her breasts with his hands, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. He felt her harsh intake of breath and knew she was trying to calm her raging senses. “You want me, and before the night is over, I will have you again.”

“No, you won’t,” she choked, but she moaned as he brought his mouth down to her neck and kissed the sensitive flesh where her pulse was beating like crazy.

“Better than reclaiming you, you will be begging me to take you.”

Maggie was in danger of doing just that now. A simple touch and her body seemed to go up in flames. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm her aching, throbbing body. “No,” she wailed, more to herself than him.

“You forget, mi dolor, I know what makes you fall into incantations of need. I know your body like I know my own. I know every little inch of you.”

“Why are you here?” She begged, trying not to cry out as he lowered a hand and once more lifted the hem of her dress.

“I came with someone.”

“Who?” It came out as a half-word, as he brought his palm to cup her most private centre.

“A model I also had meaningless sex with.” His words had been designed to hurt, but he could have no idea of just how they would make her stomach ache with envy.

Maggie tilted her head back and groaned as he pressed lightly but insistently against the cotton of her underpants. “Dante,” she whispered, lifting a hand and curling it around the back of his neck. “Dante,” she repeated, as he increased his speed and pressure.

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