Out of Hours...Her Ruthless Boss: Ruthless Boss, Hired Wife / Unworldly Secretary, Untamed Greek / Her Ruthless Italian Boss. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ grabbed her pyjamas, clutching them to her chest as she escaped into the bathroom to change.

      She would keep telling herself that, she thought fiercely. It was the only way to make sure it stayed true.

      Cormac stretched in bed and laced his fingers behind his head. His pose was relaxed, calculatingly so, yet a restlessness surged through his body.

      A restlessness caused by both desire and dissatisfaction.

      Lizzie wanted him. He knew that. And he wanted her…more than he’d care to admit.

      It had started as a challenge; it had become a need.

      If only she weren’t so innocent…so damn moral, clinging to her virtue like some outraged virgin…She couldn’t actually be a virgin, though. Could she? In this day and age? At twentyeight?

      She came out of the bathroom, dressed in her pathetic, shabby pyjamas, and he found his lips twitching as he asked, ‘Hey, Chandler. Are you a virgin?’

      Lizzie stiffened, betraying colour flooding her face. A twenty-eight-year-old virgin. No wonder she was playing so shy.

      ‘Even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t sleep with you,’ she said in a strangled voice, her chin held high, and he felt a reluctant flicker of admiration for her spirit.

      ‘But think how I could introduce you to the pleasures of the flesh,’ he murmured enticingly, just to see her flush intensify. ‘The pleasures of love.’

      She threw him a hard, heated look. ‘But there’s no love involved, is there, Cormac?’

      He leaned back against the pillows, eyeing her thoughtfully. ‘That’s what you want, is it? What are you going to do, wait until marriage?’

      ‘Maybe I will.’ Lizzie lifted her chin. ‘Or at least wait until I meet a man who loves and respects me,’ she finished with cold dignity. ‘You do neither.’ She slipped into bed, her back to him, a sad, hunched little form.

      Cormac leaned over and tucked the sheet around her shoulder. ‘But you still want me,’ he whispered, and she stiffened under his fingers.

      ‘It means nothing.’

      ‘We’ll see about that.’ He dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck, felt the shudder run through her body, and smiled.

      Cormac lay in the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of their breathing. His body still throbbed and ached from the kiss they’d already shared, from the knowledge of her body, inches from his, tense and still. He could smell her scent, lemony shampoo and something else that was just pure Lizzie.

      Pure lust.

      He hadn’t felt such desire—need—for a woman in a long time. Perhaps ever.

      He thought of what she wanted…Love. Respect. His mouth twisted in sardonic acknowledgement. He supposed he could give her that.

      If Lizzie were in love with him, Jan would never doubt they were a happy couple. Stears would stop his innuendoes, as well.

      The commission would be his…and what an enjoyable way to achieve it.

      His mind flicked over the possibilities, the problems. Lizzie would have to believe he was in love with her…for how long? How much? He needed to be believable. She could never suspect.

      It was a risk, a challenge—the rush he craved. And now it was a need.

      He smiled. He wanted her; he would have her, willing, in his arms.

      Soon.

      Lizzie sighed, and he could tell by her easy breathing that she was asleep. Knowing such respite was hours away for himself, he rolled quietly out of bed.

      He took his sketchbook and pencils from his suitcase and, sitting in a chair opposite the bed, stared hard at the still, sleeping figure before he bent his head and began to draw.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      SUNLIGHT was slanting in wide beams on the floor when Lizzie awoke. She lay still for a moment, listening to the gentle whoosh of the sea only metres from their bedroom, the call of a macaw and the rustle of the palms in the breeze.

      She glanced over at Cormac and tensed, expecting to see him awake and gazing at her with that sardonic knowledge in those glinting hazel eyes.

      Instead she found him asleep, and she shifted carefully on her side so she could study him.

      He was a beautiful man. In sleep, his face was softened, relaxed, his thick lashes sweeping his cheeks, his mouth, usually pulled into a frown or a scowl, now softened into a half smile. His hair was mussed like a boy’s. He had the beginnings of a cowlick, and it made her smile.

      What had Cormac been like as a boy? She pictured him in a private-school uniform, prissy and pampered. It was hard to imagine. Perhaps his parents had sent him away to boarding school. That innate arrogance, the expectation of obedience came, she thought, from money. Money and power.

      Her gaze slid downward. His chest was bare, pure sculpted muscle tapering to slim hips and powerful thighs, hidden only by a thin sheet.

      He wore boxers, but she could still see evidence of his manhood and it ignited a traitorous heat inside her, just by looking.

      What about touching…

      She lifted a hand, stopped. She’d been about to touch his chest…to caress him.

      Had she no shame? No self-control?

      Then his eyes opened.

      Suddenly Lizzie was aware of how close she was, her face inches from his, her hand poised above his chest. She dropped it back on to the sheet.

      Cormac watched her, his eyes the colour of moss, clouded with sleep. Then the sleep cleared and was replaced with awareness.

      Attraction.

      They stared at each other, neither speaking, and Lizzie was conscious of how her body responded to just that look, her blood heating as if he’d stroked her with his hands instead of with his eyes.

      Her hair fell forward, brushing against his bare chest, and Lizzie heard his breath hitch.

      Still, neither of them spoke, neither of them moved.

      She felt trapped by his gaze—trapped, tortured, tempted.

      In a weekend of utter falseness, this felt amazingly real.

      A bird called raucously outside and the shutter banged in the breeze.

      The moment was broken. Lizzie saw it in the coolness that stole into his eyes, the knowing smile curving that mobile mouth.

      ‘Had a good look?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes,’ Lizzie said.

      ‘Change СКАЧАТЬ