Page 18 of Defying Her Arrogant Boss

She felt his withdrawal and knew he was about to walk away and suddenly that prospect was worse.

‘I don’t suggest you do, though.’ She quickly turned to him.

‘Why not?’ He came tantalisingly close again, his attention trained on her.

She looked back at her screen. ‘Whatever you currently use suits you.’

‘It does?’

‘Mmm,’ she answered as matter of factly as she could, despite her thumping heart and the audible catch in her voice. ‘Lemony. It’s nice. Fresh.’

‘You noticed?’

I notice everything about you.To say that would be to go too far. She was playing with fire already and she knew it. Trouble was, it was irresistible. He was irresistible.

He lingered, perhaps waiting for another move, another sign from her. So with superhuman strength she kept her focus on the computer, wishing the others hadn’t left already, until finally, after what seemed like eons of sweet torture, he lifted away and went to sit back at his own screen.

She breathed out. Close, too close and yet not nearly close enough. Mentally she begged for the fortnight to pass fast; every day was killing her. Why was it you always wanted what you couldn’t have?

* * *

Rory decided to take the stairs back up to the office after the breakfast meeting with the client. Anything to bum off the excess energy and frustration welling in him. Damn it. The situation was eating him up and he was struggling to concentrate on the project. So much for forgetting about her until it had wrapped. Who the hell was he kidding?

He wasn’t the most arrogant guy, but he knew when someone was interested, and she wanted him. He’d seen the way she watched him, the way she flushed when he stood near her, had felt her tremble as his hand brushed hers when working at her computer together.

She’d even admitted it—tried to fob it off as just sexual attraction. But it was more than that. He’d yet to figure out quite how much more, but definitely more. Not just attraction but undeniable need, he had to get closer to her. His body screamed for it. The frustration that she wouldn’t give in to it was almost greater than the frustration that he felt from not being with her. It was like being tortured on the rack, slow and painful.

Hell, he should never have commandeered her for his team, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself, the temptation to have her near too great. But he hadn’t banked on how totally it affected his concentration. Then again, if she weren’t under his nose he’d be spending his days wondering about her.

He’d never been bewitched before. It was humiliating and he needed to do something about it. He knew exactly what hewantedto do, but he had to understand her resistance to conquer it.

It wasn’t as if she was totally off men. Hell, she even had Gina trying to matchmake her with her mate. He ran up the first flight of stairs swiftly, deep in thought.

All this rubbish about office gossip was a smokescreen. She was a temp, for goodness’ sake; she’d be heading home to New Zealand in no time. Why care what a bunch of people here thought when soon she’d be out of the place?

They could have a lot of fun together before she did take off. She should be taking in all the experiences London had to offer. He was determined to be one of those experiences.

So if not fear of gossip, then fear of what? He could do scared; hell he was a little scared himself. He’d never felt a pull like this. He could give her time if that was what she needed. Some time anyway. Okay, maybe not much more time.

He mulled over that first night they’d met. She’d been so funny. So damn sexy. Her hair loose, her tongue loose. He smirked—very loose. He couldn’t believe she was the same woman so buttoned up in the office the next day. Hair swept back, a frosty manner. That wasn’t really her. No, the hints of the tantalising, enthusiastic siren underneath were all too clear. Her cynical amusement at the competitive interplay between James and Marnie, the enthusiastic way she ate her dessert, her passion for the city, the lust in her eyes when they touched. She wore stockings and suspenders, for heaven’s sake. The woman was a sensualist hiding behind ice.

Bounding up the fourth flight of stairs, he decided he must remember to keep raspberries and cream in the fridge. Watching her eat that dessert with her fingers had given him the biggest hard-on he’d had in years. He’d had to take ages over his own cake to give himself time to regain control before they stood up at the table. Control. Was that what she was afraid of losing? What he could do to her to make her lose control. He ached to do it, every wild fantasy spinning in his head.

She needed a shake-up. He wanted to strip away that frost, strip away that fear and then strip her, literally. He laughed at his crassness.

Running up the next flight, he looked up and his heart seized in his chest. Suddenly he was as breathless as if he’d been running a marathon. There she was, standing at the landing at the top, staring at him, her hand clenched on the banister. He stopped and eye-balled her. Perfect. Time for a little conversation. Without breaking eye contact he slowly climbed the remaining five steps to stand on the step just below her. It almost brought them to eye level. Her mouth only an inch or two below his. Perfect positioning.

He breathed deeply a couple of times and studied her. She was breathing as hard as him and she’d only come down six stairs. It pleased him. He got to her, just as she did him. She sucked her beautiful pouty lips into her mouth again, pressing on them as if she was holding back the words. He wanted to free them with his finger, to feel the soft fullness. He wanted her to say whatever it was on her mind.

He decided to cut right to the chase. Her hand still gripped the banister. He covered it with one of his own. It trembled.

‘I think it’s time we faced up to this, don’t you?’

Her eyes darkened.

So did his mood. ‘Tell me why not.’

‘You’re my boss.’

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