‘My mother was my father’s maid. He seduced her and she ended up living hand to mouth in a council estate with a child she got no support for.’ Bitterness edged each word. ‘I know what workplace harassment can do to a woman. And yes, I care about it.’
His ferocity was a physical force. A shock wave pushing against me. ‘Apart from anything else, I don’t like people taking advantage of others more vulnerable than they are.’ He put a hand on each of the armrests on either side of my seat, a wall of hot male anger. ‘In fact, you’re damn lucky I wasn’t anywhere around this Mark bastard when he grabbed you. Because if I had been, he wouldn’t have had any balls left for you to knee.’
He was threatening like this, his anger not directed at me but for me. A protective anger. An anger that Dad had never displayed, not once. No, his had always been at me. As if Mark grabbing me had been my fault.
I didn’t know why desire hit me so hard in that moment, a surge of it spiking in my blood. Because it shouldn’t have. I didn’t need a man getting protective of me—hell, I’d kicked bloody Mark straight in the family jewels, hadn’t I? I could protect myself.
But some part of me liked that Mr Evans was angry on my behalf. I could imagine him at the Australis Christmas party, standing behind me, big and scarred and dangerous. Scowling that famous scowl. A wordless threat to anyone who thought touching me was a good idea.
And he wouldn’t have cared about making a fuss as Dad had.
No, he wouldn’t have cared about that one single iota.
He would have been on my side.
I wanted him suddenly and very, very badly.
And he must have seen it, because his gaze became very focused. ‘You like that idea, don’t you?’ His voice dropped almost an entire octave.
‘Yes.’ Very purposefully, I put my hands over his where they rested on the armrests of my seat, his skin searing my palms. ‘I do.’
‘That’s very bloodthirsty.’
‘You have a problem with a woman being bloodthirsty?’
‘Fuck, no. But fair warning, pretty thing. It turns me on.’
I shivered. I shouldn’t goad him and yet I couldn’t stop. ‘I don’t mind if you’re turned on.’
The expression on his face got taut. ‘You might. Because if you keep touching me like that, we’re having sex. Understand?’
Oh, I understood. I was very clear. And the more I stared into his eyes, the more I wanted him and the less my doubts about it seemed to matter.
I couldn’t even remember why I hadn’t wanted to have sex with him again in the first place. It was only sex. Not a big deal.
‘That’s going to be difficult in Dubai,’ I said huskily. ‘I mean, presumably couples who are serious have to touch each other. And it’ll look weird if we don’t.’
The look in his eyes became scorching. ‘You want to get in some practice, then?’
If I thought about this too long I’d get cold feet.
I needed to stop thinking.
I leaned forward, running my hands up his strong forearms, trailing my fingers over hot skin and powerful muscle.
And kissed him. Hard.
Ash
ELLIE’S MOUTH WAS HOT, her delicate touch against my bare skin making my breath catch.
I shouldn’t have responded. I should have pulled away, especially given what she’d just told me about the prick who’d touched her, who’d hurt her no matter how she’d downplayed it.
Because I was just another prick who would hurt her.
Because that was what I did. I hurt people.
But I couldn’t have pulled away from her in that moment if my life had depended on it.
I’d warned her, though. I’d warned her that if she was going to touch me like this, we’d be having sex. And I was a man of my word.
Despite numerous invitations, I’d never had sex in the company jet—I preferred to keep the line between my company and my pleasure very separate.
Today, I didn’t give a shit about that line.
Her tongue was tentatively exploring me, her nails beginning to dig into my biceps. She tasted so sweet, strawberries on a summer day, and the heat of her body was temptation incarnate.
She was wearing shorts today, instead of her uniform. Just a simple pair of blue denim shorts, with a green T-shirt. Nothing spectacular.
Yet I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her.
I’d had to busy myself with a whole lot of business just to stop myself from gaping at her like a love-struck teenager. I’d thought I’d had myself well in hand. But when she’d started talking about her family’s company, about the situation with the harassment and some motherfucker who thought he could touch her; about how her father had paid that prick off instead of supporting his daughter...
I’d wanted to kill someone over that.
If either her father or the prick who’d touched her had been there I think I would have literally strangled them.
But since they weren’t, I’d have to take the sex.
What a fucking hardship.
I shouldn’t touch her again, but she was kissing me quite desperately and I couldn’t refuse her. I didn’t want to refuse her.
I lifted my hands to her face, sliding my fingers along her delicate jaw, her skin silky and soft beneath my fingertips.
A kiss was great. But her mouth wasn’t where I wanted to kiss her.
Holding her carefully, I pulled away.
She blinked, her eyes a pure dark gold, looking at me as if she’d never wanted anything so badly.
My cock, already hard, ached like a bastard.
‘Lie back,’ I ordered. ‘Let me give you something.’
‘But I—’
‘I’m not asking.’
As I expected, the order ignited her fighting spirit. ‘Oh? You think you’re driving again?’
‘Yes.’ I dropped my hands to her bare thighs, stroking, her skin just as silky and warm as her jaw had been. ‘And as I recall, you very much enjoyed it when I drove the last time.’
She was already a very pretty shade of pink, and when I stroked her again she went even pinker. ‘But I’m always the driver.’
‘I know. So let me do the work for once.’ I kept my gaze on hers as I reached for the buttons of her shorts, watching her reaction. ‘All you need to do is lie back and enjoy the ride.’
‘Oh.’ She chewed on her bottom lip a moment as if considering it. Then she let out a breath. ‘Well, I guess when you put it like that.’ Slowly she sat back in her seat.
Raw triumph flooded through me, along with something a little more uncomfortable. Because she wasn’t one of my socialites, or an aristocrat I could sully. She was different. She was a fighter who was conceding me the advantage by choice. Because she trusted me. Even after that arsehole had hurt her, she trusted me.
The heady eroticism of the knowledge caught me by the throat at the same time as it unsettled me.
I