“A pleasure, Stockton,” he purred in his velvet tone. And thankfully removed his hands from her hair. Then, just as she sucked in a much-needed scoop of oxygen, he said, “Let me help you off with your jacket.” And he was bending over her again, his hands working on the buttons at her waist with swift effectiveness.
She froze. Her mind went into stasis for the few critical seconds that it took for him to have her jacket unbuttoned and opened wide.
“Just lean forward a bit and I’ll slide it off your shoulders,” he said.
Tessa’s mind burst out of stasis and into frantic activity. It was only her jacket. He hadn’t groped over her breasts or anything. She leaned forward and lifted her arms out of the sleeves as he smoothly pulled the jacket away from her.
“Smart suit, Stockton,” he said, as he tossed the top half of it on a chair. “Does you credit.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tessa managed to croak.
Somehow, his approval of her choice of clothes didn’t carry much weight at this moment. Some belated instinct of self-preservation urged her to stop sitting like a waiting dummy and take some positive initiative. She stood up and turned to face him. It wasn’t easy meeting his eyes. First she had to drag her own up from his chest—there were more of his shirt buttons undone. Right to the waist!
“I think,” she forced out, “since you don’t need me...”
“Oh, but I do need you, Stockton,” he said softly, the dark eyes locking onto hers in hot, purposeful intent. “I need you very much.”
He moved. One hand slid around her waist, the other gently tilted her chin, keeping her eyes fastened to his as he drew her lower body against his, letting her know the shape and urgency of what he desired of her. “Very much,” he repeated with slow deliberate emphasis.
CHAPTER THREE
There was absolutely nothing unmistakable about what was going on now. The hardness pressing into her stomach had a rampant virility that left Tessa in no doubt whatsoever. Her mind was suddenly very clear, even though the rest of her was a melting mess.
In the clarity of her mind was one brightly burning thought. Blaize Callagan found her desirable. Urgently desirable. Her erstwhile fiancé had fancied someone else, but Blaize Callagan—this man amongst men—fancied her!
All the same, that sweet balm to her wounded soul was no reason to lose her head over him, Tessa swiftly reasoned. Her hands fluttered up to his chest. As a means of protest they were hopelessly ineffectual. One of her thumbs hit bare warm flesh and stuck there. She cleared her throat.
“I think...”
“Stockton, this is not the time for thinking,” he advised kindly. He lifted his hand from her chin, took off her glasses and lobbed them onto the table behind her. His hand moved to her throat and began unbuttoning her blouse.
“Interesting thing about your eyes, Stockton,” he said, looking into them with mesmerising intensity. “They don’t look at all weak or vacant without your glasses on. In fact, they appear brighter... and infinitely more fascinating.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tessa said, swallowing hard. “I’d like to say, sir, that this isn’t a good idea.” At least her voice could register a protest, even though the rest of her was playing traitor to any sense of right or propriety.
“On the contrary, Stockton. It’s the best release for tension I know. I’ve had a lot of experience.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sure you have, sir.” He was unbuttoning her blouse with such swift and smooth expertise that the buttons seemed to know they had to obey him without falter. “But it so happens, sir, that I don’t go in for one-night stands.”
“Perish the thought, Stockton. We have at least two nights.”
Tessa took a deep breath, trying desperately to ignore what he was doing and act with as much dignity as she could. “Look, sir, just because your normal secretary performs this service for you, doesn’t mean you can expect...”
“Stockton.” He looked at her severely as his hand continued its unrelenting intent, parting her blouse and tracing soft sensual paths across the swell of her breasts with gentle fingertips. “I do not require or want this service—as you put it—from Rosemary Davies. I make it a practice of never mixing business with pleasure. It’s a ruinous mistake.”
Her skin trembled with excitement under his touch. “Then why are you doing it?” she argued with impeccable logic.
“One must adapt to extraordinary circumstances,” he replied with commanding authority.
Extraordinary... The word spun around Tessa’s mind, gathering a hypnotic power. It certainly fitted this situation. He was right about that. It was extraordinary that Blaize Callagan should desire her, and extraordinary that she was actually letting him take such liberties. Not only letting him, but liking what he was doing to her. I need to feel desired, she thought. And he was not just anybody! In the normal course of events, she would never again be with Blaize Callagan like this. It was time out of time. Extraordinary circumstances. An encounter. For both of them.
Whether he took her silence as encouragement or assent, Tessa didn’t know. Perhaps he saw the softening of vulnerability in her eyes, or was hell-bent on pressing his own will anyway. Whatever...
He found the front fastening of her bra and undid it without the slightest fumble or difficulty. Very softly, he grazed his fingers under the nylon lace, gradually peeling it away and replacing its cup with the warm palm of his hand. With exquisite delicacy his thumb began a sweeping caress over her breast. Not once did he glance down to look at the flesh he had bared, or see what he was doing. His eyes never left hers.
She didn’t look down, either. She stared at him, her mind achurn with alien thoughts, but she was conscious of her body responding to his touch with wild spasms of nervous excitement.
Why not, she argued feverishly. The only man she had ever given herself to had been unfaithful to her last night. Why shouldn’t she have this man? Why shouldn’t she have this experience? Grant certainly hadn’t nursed any scruples about sampling what he wanted. She was free to do anything she liked. With whomever she liked. And right now she was being offered the kind of fantasy that Blaize Callagan had always evoked. It would never come her way again. So why not grab it while she could? Wouldn’t she regret it afterwards if she didn’t?
“Don’t be inflexible, Stockton. It’s ruined more people than I care to name,” Blaize said persuasively. “What we have here is an intensely desirable situation. And to be perfectly frank, there is a great deal of tension between us. Much more tension than can be summarily dismissed. Don’t you agree?”