The Boss's Nine-Month Negotiation. Maya Blake

his eyes branding her mouth for endless seconds before his gaze rose again.

      ‘For food? Or for everything else?’ His voice was thicker. Deeper. His nostrils flared in blatant, carnal hunger.

      ‘Why are you so angry with me?’ she whispered, unable to stem the dread crawling over her skin.

      An enigmatic expression blanketed his face for a blind second, his eyes blazing with a light she couldn’t fathom. ‘Perhaps I’m tired of being compartmentalised in your life, of being put on a shelf and taken down and dusted off only when your needs get the better of you.’

      She gasped. ‘What? I’ve never—’

      The firm finger that drifted over her lower lip stemmed her answer. ‘I wish to get off this merry-go-round. So I ask you again, what have you lost your appetite for?’

      Lust, need, anger and hurt strangled her in equal measures. With a few pithy words, he’d reduced her to a needy female eager to sink her talons into a man she wanted to possess. With one label, he’d reminded her of the one thing she’d vowed never to be again.

      Dependent.

      They’d had disagreements before, but nothing like this. Sienna couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t stem the hurt that flowed like a bloodied wound. But with each second that passed, with each intake of his breath and exhalation of hers, a different emotion surged forth. Familiar. Overwhelming. Devastating.

      A deep tremble seized her, shaking her from head to toe. He saw her reaction and triumph coated his features, his eyes darkening as he watched. Waited.

      ‘Emiliano...’

      ‘Sí, Sienna?’ he whispered against her mouth, but holding himself a breath away, taunting her with his proximity.

      Her breath shook out. ‘Something’s going on. Don’t make me think I’m crazy or that I’m overreacting. Please, just tell me—’

      ‘Stop. You know better than to push a closed subject. You’re an expert on closed subjects, after all. So do not let tonight be the moment you change your tune, querida, hmm?’

      Another bolt of shock went through her. Her gaze collided with his. The hunger was still there, but everything else was just...wrong. ‘Who are you? Why are you speaking to me this way?’

      ‘You’re the one who insists on incessant discourse,’ he bit out at her.

      ‘You don’t want me to talk? Fine!’ She grabbed his tie and pulled it free. One vicious twist of her wrist sent it flying across the polished table. Then she attacked his shirt. Buttons turned into tiny missiles launched across the room, the depth of unbelievable hurt and lust tearing through her and making her irrational.

      Her actions felt surreal, an out-of-body experience that sent shockwaves through her other self, the one observing what she was doing from a safe distance.

      The live, breathing one initiating hot-headed moves swallowed hard at the first sight of Emiliano’s tanned, chiselled chest and gave a helpless groan, her body weakening and surging with desire at the same time.

      Emiliano’s breath hissed out when she reached for his belt buckle. ‘Querida—’

      ‘No! If I don’t get to talk, neither do you,’ she insisted, probably because she was terrified that talking now would force her to think about what she was doing, and the possible reason behind Emiliano’s behaviour. Which was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. Not in this instance. Not when a mere hour ago she’d felt on top of the world.

      Her fingers gained renewed power. Tugging the belt free, she jerked it away and heard it whistle through the loops on its way across the floor. Her fingers brushed the powerful erection behind his fly and a powerful shudder rocked him.

      ‘Dios mio, Sienna...’ His voice was thick, his arousal present and potent.

      ‘Unless, of course, you’re going to tell me I’m crazy to think you want me?’ She kicked away her shoes and reached for the zipper of her dress. Lowered it. Watched the tops of his sculptured cheekbones flush with raw need.

      His lips parted, his breath emerging in shallow pants as he watched her dress loosen and drape, secured only by her heaving breasts.

      But, as quickly as the alien bravado had risen, it died, leaving her once again flailing, distraught.

      What on earth was she doing?

      Dropping her hands, she hiked up the skirt of the gown and took one step back, then another. He followed, tracking her with the calculated steps of a ravenous predator.

      They moved like that, locked in their erotic dance, out of the dining room. Somewhere along the way, the top part of her dress dropped, exposing her.

      Emiliano stumbled. Then cursed under his breath. At any other time, Sienna would’ve smiled a wicked, teasing smile. Not now. Now each breath was weighted with desire, yes, but also with a fearful heaviness that left little room for hilarity.

      ‘Am I crazy, Emiliano?’ she pressed, even though part of her desperately urged herself to remain silent.

      Long seconds ticked by as he prowled after her. Her back touched the bedroom door, swinging it open. Momentarily, his gaze flicked past her to the king-sized bed they’d shared insanely passionate moments in for six months. The eyes that returned to meet hers were heavy with need and regret. Whether it was for their argument or for something else, she didn’t know. Although, with the ache in her chest she couldn’t quite shift, she suspected the latter.