Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 46

"Take your dress off," he said.

Despite the lamplight, his face remained in darkness. She obeyed him, because she wanted to more than anything in the world. Already the muscles deep inside her were tightening in antic.i.p.ation of his penetration. Remembering the full, hard length of him, she closed her eyes and shuddered.

Her zip undone, she pushed the dress off her shoulders, then s.h.i.+mmied it over her hips. She could feel the heat of his gaze as it traveled across her body, exposed now in a few bare sc.r.a.ps of silk and lace.

Without hesitation she slid the clasp of her bra loose and flung it to one side, quickly adding her panties to the growing pile of her clothes.

Then she was standing there, naked bar her stiletto sandals, hot and panting for him.

His gaze raked her, and the raw need and desire in his eyes was almost frightening-but she was too busy being excited by it to care.

He made a low animal sound in the back of his throat and reached for her. They came together as though they wanted to devour each other, tongues dueling, lips almost snarling as they strived to become one and satisfy the need that burned in both of them. His hands slid down her back, then swept smoothly over her hips and b.u.t.t. She felt the tension ratchet tighter in his body as his hands explored the dips and curves of her backside, molding her to him. She ground herself against him, the action a pale imitation of what she truly desired.

Then suddenly he was grasping her, lifting her and turning to place her on the desk so that he was standing in front of her. He stared down into her eyes for a heartbeat before his hands brushed down over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her belly, and finally, to her thighs. She didn't wait for him to push them apart, spreading them eagerly for him. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she watched his face as he stared down at the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

His mouth parted, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Her stomach muscles clenched. He ran his hands up the smooth skin of her inner thighs, pus.h.i.+ng them wider but stopping just short of touching her heat. His thumbs caressed the tender skin of her upper thighs, back and forth, back and forth. She sucked in a breath, then let it out in a rush as he at last slid a finger into her slick folds.

"You're very wet, Anna," he murmured, dark eyes skewering her.

"You make me hot," she murmured back, reaching for the hard, straining bulge in his pants.

She gasped as he unerringly found her c.l.i.toris, his knowing fingers teasing over and over the tight bud. All the while he was watching her, his gaze intent on her face.

"I want you inside me," she said, her voice thready with need.

"No," he said, but the word was more a promise than a denial.

Very deliberate, he sank to his knees, and she sucked in a lungful of air as his dark head moved toward her wide-spread thighs.

"Ohhhh yes!" she moaned as his tongue made its first sweep across her wetness.

His hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place as he began to lave her with skillful intensity. His tongue was by turns firm and rasping, then slick and darting, then warm and wonderfully wet as he suckled her.

She forgot her name, where they were, who they were. The whole world narrowed to the spiraling heat that was building inside her and the remorseless, delicious pressure of his tongue. She gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles clenched white as she writhed.

Her thighs found their way onto his shoulders, and just when she thought she was going to explode his hands slid under her b.u.t.t and he lifted her up, his tongue firmer and harder than ever before.

She came hard, her thighs clenching, her back arching, a low moan groaning out of her throat as her o.r.g.a.s.m shook her. It seemed to go on and on, his skillful tongue teasing more and more response from her.

Finally she fell limply onto the desk and there was only the sound of her harsh breathing. She was totally spent, boneless with satisfaction. Her thighs were wet with her desire and his saliva, and she felt swollen with pa.s.sion. Somewhere, deep inside, she knew she should feel self-conscious about the fact that she was slumped, thighs wide, on a stranger's desk, having just had the best oral s.e.x of her life. But she was beyond caring, and when he sat back on his heels and simply stared at the glistening heart of her she felt nothing but a fierce satisfaction that he liked what he saw.

His eyes were full of desire, so full that she didn't protest when he reached out to touch her again, even though she knew she was too sensitive to stand any more.

His finger slid inside her with practiced ease, and she was stunned to feel her muscles tense instinctively around him. As though she'd told him all he needed to know, he stood and leaned over her.

"You want me again already," he told her, and before she could confirm or deny he was kissing her.

She could smell her own s.e.x on him, but the faint musk only added to the eroticism of the moment. He pressed her back onto the desk, his hands sliding down to cup her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He plucked at their straining peaks with increasing firmness, the pleasure almost painful, then he ducked his head and sucked a nipple hard into his mouth.

He had too much clothing on. She needed his skin against hers. Her hands tore at his s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons, fumbling them clumsily as she raced to reveal the hard breadth of his chest. No sooner had she won this battle than she moved on to his belt buckle. Desire lent her dexterity now, and she slid the buckle loose and released his fly in a matter of seconds. The taut, hard length of him sprang into her waiting hands. She smiled hungrily as she weighed his desire, sliding her hands up and down his shaft.

He stiffened further still, if that were possible, and she could see the muscles of his shoulders and belly tense as he fought for control. She licked the palm of her hand and slid her newly-slicked hand up and down him, her grip firm and sure.

He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat. She liked the way his eyes glinted down at her, liked the hunger in his gaze as it roamed from straining breast to straining breast, then down her belly to where she was already aching to be joined with him.

She didn't protest as he slid her off the desk and gently but firmly turned her so that her back was to him. She heard the slither of fabric as he tugged off his jeans, then felt the warmth of his thighs against the back of her legs as he molded himself to her body. The hair on his legs and chest rasped sensually against her skin, and she bit her lip as his hands slid around her rib cage to possess her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He plucked at her nipples as he ground himself against the curve of her b.u.t.t, and she slid a hand behind herself to grab the length of him.

His breath was hard and fast in her ear, and she made an impatient sound as he pulled away for a brief second to protect them. Knowing exactly what he wanted, she leaned forward, reaching for the edge of the desk and arching her back as he plunged inside her from behind. It felt so good she couldn't stop herself from crying out. Then he began to move, his rhythm sure and smooth, his strokes powerful. His hands gripped her hips, and Anna closed her eyes and gave herself over to the experience. He was so thick and hard, and her muscles contracted around him, urging him on. Just when she thought it couldn't get any better, he snaked a hand over her hip and between her legs and zeroed in on her c.l.i.toris. She bucked as a bolt of pure desire rocketed through her, and then she was pulsating around him, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she rode the peak of another o.r.g.a.s.m.

As she tapered off Marc's rhythm increased, and then his grip firmed on her hips, and she felt him tense and shudder as he spent himself deep inside her. The moment seemed to last forever, until finally the tension dropped out of him and his grip slackened.

A moment pa.s.sed, a few heartbeats as they remained connected, his breath in her ear, his body warm against her back. Then he sighed, and her head drooped forward. She felt a small moment of loss as he withdrew from her. Her flesh was cool where his had been, and all the bad memories from last time came rus.h.i.+ng back-the awkwardness, the embarra.s.sment, the uncertainty.

She straightened and with shaking hands reached for her bra. It took two attempts to fix the clasp in place, and she glanced across at him as she walked to where she'd flung her dress. It was the first time she'd had a chance to appreciate his powerful physique. He was in superb shape, a man in his prime. Despite what had just happened between them, her body tightened at the sight of him. She bit her lip and pulled her dress over her head.

She could hear him dressing, also, but she didn't look at him again. Why did this keep happening between them? She clenched her hands, trying to hold back the tide of regret. Half an hour ago, she'd been standing in an art gallery trying to come up with a good exit line. Then Marc had touched her, and her thighs had gone up in flames and nothing in the world had been as important as getting her hands on him as soon as possible.

A panicky feeling gripped her. It was as though she wasn't in control of herself anymore. As soon as Marc Lewis was in the room, she turned into some kind of s.e.x-mad robot, obsessed with getting off and nothing else.

It was one thing to tell Danny she wanted more pa.s.sion in her life, but these...encounters with Marc Lewis were so far removed from anything she'd ever imagined. She felt out of control. Completely out of control.

He was pulling on his pants, and she heard the clink of his belt buckle. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts and feelings. Now that the tide of desire had receded, she just wanted to get out of there, but her hands were shaking so much that she couldn't do up her zip.

"Let me."

He brushed her hands away from the zipper tab, and she felt the heat of his hands through the fabric of her dress as he slid the zipper closed. His hand lingered on her back, and she stepped forward to break the contact.

"Anna," he said, but she shook her head.

"I'm going to tell my dispatch service that I'm no longer available for work with your company," she said. Her voice was as shaky as she felt inside.

"That won't be necessary," he said after a short silence.

"This can't happen again."

"It won't." There was a world of clipped determination in his voice.

"Good."

Without looking at him, she unlatched the privacy lock and pulled the door open. Two women were exiting a room a few doors up the corridor, and they looked at her curiously as they walked past. Anna avoided eye contact and retraced their steps. As she'd hoped, they'd emerged from the ladies' room. She pushed the door open and stared at the woman reflected in the wall-to-wall mirror above the vanity. Her hair was a rumpled mess, her cheekbones stained with hectic color. Her eyes glittered strangely, and a dull red flush of desire still colored her chest.

She filled the sink with water and sluiced great handfuls onto her face, then used some paper towel to dab moisture onto her chest. Slowly her color went down. She finger-raked her hair into some semblance of order and thought of Leah and Jules. They were probably wondering where the h.e.l.l she'd got to. She'd be lucky if they hadn't abandoned her-it would be nothing less than what she deserved.

She met her own eyes in the mirror, and was forced to acknowledge that she didn't know the woman staring back at her. She'd never thought of herself as s.e.xy or even particularly sensual. She was just average. A normal, everyday woman.

But what had just happened with Marc was not a normal, everyday experience-unless she'd been living a far more cloistered, secluded life than she'd ever imagined. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she was capable of the kinds of things that had happened over the past hour. A wash of heat rushed through her as she remembered how abandoned she'd been as Marc went down on her. She had not spared a single thought for repercussions or reputation or anything. She had just given herself over to the moment and absolutely reveled in it. Lord only knew how much noise she'd made as she came-she had the uncomfortable feeling that she'd been extremely vocal.

She stared despairingly at herself in the mirror. She just wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. It was all very well for Danny to talk of flings and fun, but she was made of sterner, more prosaic stuff and she didn't bounce back from these encounters the way he did.

The door swung open, and Jules and Leah bustled in.

"There you are! We were wondering where you'd got to," Leah said.

They were both a little flushed and bright-eyed, and Anna realized with relief that they were tipsy. It would make it much easier to do what she was about to do.

"I'm sorry-but I think I might have picked up a bit of tummy bug," she fibbed.

"Oh, Anna, no," Jules said sympathetically. "Do you want to go home?"

"I think so, but I'll grab a cab on my own. No need for you guys to have an early night because of me."

"No way-we'll take you home," Leah insisted.

"Seriously, I'm just going to go straight to bed," she a.s.sured them hastily. "You guys seem like you're having a pretty good time."

They exchanged guilty looks. "There is this very cute waiter," Jules admitted.

"And he has a brother," Leah added.

"Then you should definitely stay and chat him up. I'll give you a call next week, okay?"

After making her promise to drink lots of water and have some dry toast when she got home, they finally let her leave. In three minutes flat she had congratulated Maxine on her exhibition, made her excuses, collected her bag and was standing on Glebe Point Road, waiting to hail a taxi.

It was a busy time of night, and there were plenty of cabs cruising for fares. She flagged one down and slid into the back seat with relief. Telling the driver her address in Rose Bay, she sat back against the upholstery and relaxed for the first time in hours. She just wanted to be home so she could forget tonight's mistake.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, a low-slung sports car shot past. She recognized the dark, familiar profile of Marc Lewis and hastily turned away, hoping he hadn't seen her. She couldn't stop the wave of remembered desire that the mere sight of him provoked, however. It seemed that no matter what happened, her body would always want Marc Lewis.

Tough luck, she told herself. I want my life back. I want me back.

No more out of control. It was too much, and she wasn't cut out for it.

MARC PARKED HIS CAR and slammed the door behind himself as he exited. The house was in darkness and he left it that way as he stalked his way through the garden and onto the back terrace. He was filled with anger-at Anna for having so much control over him, and at himself for having so little. He still couldn't believe that they'd had s.e.x just meters from a packed art gallery. He knew some men would revel in the s.e.xual conquest, but he wasn't one of them. His father had been an inveterate womanizer, a man who never denied his pa.s.sions. Marc had learned early on what kind of damage such self-indulgence could wreak. He'd worked hard to prove to himself and the world that he was not his father's son.

Now here he was, being led around by his c.o.c.k, just like his father. Why hadn't he just walked away from her? But he knew why-the moment he'd touched her, he'd been gone.

He reminded himself that it was over now. Even if he'd wanted to pursue things with her-which he didn't-she'd made it clear that she wasn't interested.

Swearing under his breath, Marc began stripping his clothes off angrily. He dove into the pool, the cold water like a slap in the face. He wanted to wipe the night out, just erase it from his mind and body.

Kicking off from the wall, he started swimming.

6.

"JACINTA, WHERE THE h.e.l.l is that file I asked for?" Marc demanded.

He braced his arms against either side of the door frame, leaning out into his a.s.sistant's domain aggressively.

She flinched at his surly tone. "I'm still waiting for it to come back up from R & D."

"And do we think that's going to happen sometime this century?"

She blinked at his sarcasm. "I'll get straight onto them."

She swiveled abruptly in her chair and reached for the phone, turning her back on him deliberately, he guessed. He stared at her hunched shoulders for a moment, guilt stabbing at him. Since when had he become the kind of grade A a.r.s.ehole who took his moods out on his secretary?

Sighing heavily, he pushed himself away from the door frame and back into his office. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows covered one wall, but he stared blindly out at the view.

He owed Jacinta an apology. In fact, if he put his mind to it he was sure that he could probably come up with a lengthy list of people he owed an apology to. Gary, his personal trainer, his lawyer, his sister...all of them had copped the brunt of his temper in one way or another over the past few days. h.e.l.l, he'd even had a go at his niece, Sally. And now Jacinta.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and turned away from the window. It wasn't as though he didn't know what his problem was: frustration. In the enticing, hourgla.s.s form of Anna Jackson.

He was thirty-five years old, newly single, wealthy and in charge of a large private company. He employed more than five hundred people, he owned one of the best views in Sydney and this year's after-tax profit looked on target to set a new all-time record.

And, despite himself, he was fast becoming s.e.xually obsessed with a certain platinum-haired chauffeur.

He swore, furious that his thoughts had drifted toward her yet again. This was the last thing he wanted or needed in his life, but he'd been like this since Sat.u.r.day night. Sure, he could concentrate on work for minutes, even hours at a time. But as soon as he relaxed his vigilance, in she crept, with her silken thighs and her panted demands and hungry hands.

He didn't want to want her, and she obviously shared his wariness regarding their explosive s.e.xual chemistry. She also resented her lack of control over it, he guessed, just as he did. Which left them...nowhere. He dug his hands into his pockets and stared hard at the plush carpet beneath his feet.

His nights were peppered with fantasies of having Anna again. He knew what she tasted like now, the texture of her skin, the sound of her desire. The scent of her, the essence of her. His dreams were incredibly explicit, and every morning he woke with a raging hard-on. He'd even reached for the phone a couple of times to test whether she really had barred herself from taking jobs with his company. He told himself that if he called and she'd barred him, that was it, he wouldn't pursue it any further. But if she hadn't followed through with it...well, then she was fair game and he could seek her out and quench his need for her.

That was when he'd yelled at Gary, he remembered. He shook his head at his own behavior. He was not his father. He would prove it to himself if it killed him.

Running a hand through his hair, he crossed to his desk and sat. A click of his computer mouse, and the online version of the Yellow Pages came on screen. He found a local florist's number, and made a quick call. A generous arrangement of oriental lilies would hopefully put him back in the good books with Jacinta. As for the rest of the people in his world-perhaps he should just do them a favor and take himself off to a desert island until this...thing he had for Anna Jackson had burned itself out.

ON FRIDAY ANNA WALKED through the double gla.s.s doors of the advertising agency where her brother worked and blinked dully in the halogen lighting. Color a.s.sailed her from all sides, and the frown that had become a permanent fixture on her face over the past week deepened. The foyer was filled with bright and chirpy people to match the bright and chirpy decor, and Anna gritted her teeth and dodged her way through the people to the elevator.

This was the first time she'd ever visited her brother at work, but he'd invited her out to lunch and one of the perks of owning her own business was that she could decide when and where she lunched. Negotiating her way into an almost-full elevator, she watched impatiently as the numbers on the floor indicator slowly crawled by, one foot tap-tapping away as the doors opened and closed, opened and closed on what seemed like every floor.

"Come-on-come-on-come-on," she muttered under her breath, nearly rolling her eyes with frustration. What was with the world all of a sudden? Lately everything seemed either too slow, or too fast, or too loud, or too expensive, or just plain old annoying. She felt as if she was on the perpetual verge of a primal scream, and that any tiny miscalculation on someone else's behalf might just push her over.

Kind of like PMS to the power of a million. Fortunately for her, Australia had strict rules on gun control, so the only weapon she had to hand was her tongue-and oh, how she'd used it this past week. The dry cleaner had got an earful for shortchanging her. A young kid in a purple hatchback had scored some abuse for swerving dangerously across her lane on the freeway. And she'd treated a parking inspector to a public rant on the failures of government when she'd found him writing up her car for being one minute over time on the parking meter.

Maybe it was PMS. She did a quick mental calculation, but the math didn't add up. Maybe it was a full moon. Or maybe her frustration tolerance was just at an all-time low.

Another possible cause for her unusual bout of crankiness occurred to her, but she resolutely refused to consider it. Sat.u.r.day night was an aberration. Marc and her response to him was an aberration. She simply wouldn't let herself go there.

The doors pinged open and she stepped out onto the creative level where her brother worked. He was loitering near the elevator bank waiting for her, and they embraced briefly.

"Sorry I'm late. Stupid lift had to stop on every floor," she explained.

"It's cool. I'll just grab my phone and wallet from my desk," Danny said, gesturing for her to follow him up the hallway.