“Tell me to go,” he pleaded.
She wordlessly shook her head.
He muttered a curse. Reaching for her, as if unable to control himself, he caught hold of the silky bathrobe tie at her waist. He tightened it a little, maybe not even realizing he was doing it, as if he was fighting an inner battle between pushing her away and pulling her close.
But she realized it. her nerve endings were roaring now, her heart thudding in her chest. There was something almost predatory in his expression, and the tightening of the sash around her waist made her feel somehow claimed.
If he pushed her away, she would be devastated.
If he pulled her close, she’d be lost.
“Go upstairs,” he insisted.
“I don’t have to.”
“God, you’re stubborn.” He leaned in closer, until his pant legs brushed her bare calves. The fabric was deliciously rough and warm from his body and she couldn’t help stepping closer, sucking up that warmth. The early morning air was still chilly but heat wafted from him, like he’d absorbed the first sunbeams of the new day and could now reflect them back.
He inhaled deeply, as if he needed her scent in his lungs. she knew she smelled fresh, soapy and clean, not perfumed or lotioned, but the man looked intoxicated all the same.
“This is not why I came in here.” His face was so close to hers, she could feel the gentle fall of his exhalations on her skin. A slight shift and there was the most delicate rasp of his stubble upon her cheek.
“You came to bring my suitcase,” she murmured, not really thinking about the words they exchanged, able to focus only on his closeness. His power. The scent of his body, the roughness of his strong jaw. She wanted that roughness scraping all over her, knowing his soft, delicious mouth could kiss away any soreness.
“Right. And now I have.” He moved his body even closer. Their thighs came together.
“So you can go.” She arched against him, sighing as her hard, aching nipples met that masculine chest.
“You want me to?” One of his hands dropped to her hip and he squeezed lightly, again making her feel claimed.
“The choice is yours.” She tilted her head to the side, offering him the bare expanse of her neck.
“I’ll go then.” He moved his face to her throat, not kissing, not tasting, just breathing in and out, a millimeter from her skin, increasing the tension, heightening her senses.
So close. So incredibly close.
“If you say so.” She closed her eyes, swaying slightly on her feet, willing him not to go, and, for heaven’s sake, to just stop talking about it and kiss her.
“I’m going.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Damn it,” he muttered as if he’d finally realized she wasn’t going to order him to leave, and had finally snapped himself out of the sensual spell. But he still couldn’t back away completely, and brushed his cheek against her hair. “Do you always have to get your way?”
“Ask me in an hour.”
And she gave up, stopped playing coy and took what she’d been wanting since the night they’d met. Not giving him a chance to fight it anymore, she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her. His eyes flared and he tensed. Then, with a deep groan, he gave in to her and lowered his mouth to hers.
Their lips parted, the kiss hot, sensuous and wet. There was nothing tentative about it, no hesitation, no regret. He simply devoured her and she let him, tilting her head, loving the feel of his tongue in her mouth. Their bodies were pressed together, his hands at her waist, hers tangled in his thick hair, and the kiss went on and on, deep and hungry. She had sensed this man’s mouth had been made for kissing, and now she knew. He dined on her, sipped from her, swallowed her exhalations as if he needed her breaths to expand his lungs and fuel his cells.
Against her groin, she again felt the rigid heat that proclaimed his desire for her more than words ever could. Clad only in the robe, with his body slammed against hers, she couldn’t help but notice the rock-hard strength of him. She moaned, low in her throat, and rocked toward it, so filled with need she thought her legs would give out.
He suddenly tensed, as if realizing they were one step away from too-far-to-stop. Dropping his hands, he ended the kiss and pulled away, staggering back a step to punctuate the end of their embrace.
The sound of their ragged breaths filled the silent air. Candace felt certain every ounce of blood in her body had pooled in her most intimate places, which now throbbed and boiled with demand. Her breasts hurt, the nipples so sensitive that the scrape of the silk robe was almost unbearable, and she knew nothing would make them feel better but his hands, his tongue, his lips.
But the look on his face said she wasn’t going to get any of those things. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his tongue was back in his mouth, his lips were sealed tight and turned down in a frown.
He was trying to pretend he regretted the kiss.
She knew he didn’t.
“That was…unexpected,” she admitted, hearing the weakness of her voice.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“Oh, of course you meant to. Just as I meant to.”
“Maybe you’re right. But that doesn’t mean it can happen again, or go any further.”
She opened her mouth to argue.
“You’re only here for a short time, you’re my boss’s granddaughter and he trusted me to look after you.”
“I think he was sort of hoping you would romance me,” she said, her tone dry.
“Yeah, but not bang you up against the front door.”
“Is that where we would have ended up? Gee, and the sofa is right in the next room.”
“Damn it, Candace.”
She held a hand up, palm out, stopping him from saying anything more. “Forget it. I know you’re right. I have reasons of my own for not insisting you rip off your clothes and do me until I can’t remember my own name.”
He coughed and laughed, both at the same time. Then, as if the laughter—and her saucy words—had snapped some kind of spell, he reached out, put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around so she faced the staircase. Gently pushing her, he ordered, “Go.”
She spun back around. “I can’t.”
His jaw turned into granite. “You’re being ridiculous.”
All because he needed her to be the one who walked away and ended this before it really began? As if he had no free will? As if he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing to her exactly what she’d practically dared him to do unless she removed herself from his presence?
You don’t want him to do it, either, remember? You know you can’t do this.
Her grandfather was being moved to a rehab facility today. He’d be there for about a week, and then he would be coming home. But coming home to what? Her having an affair with his groundskeeper, then the descent of the paparazzi once her engagement was announced? Did he really need that while he recovered? Did Oliver, who was obviously here for reasons he hadn’t yet revealed to her? Did she need the scandal? Did Tommy?
No. She might want Oliver, and having sex with him might even be worth what she would go through afterward if people found out. But nobody else deserved it. She needed to cool this, here and now. She had to be the one who walked away.
Which still wasn’t going to be easy.
“I’m