Crazy, Undercover, Love (13 page)

I am so furious with Alex as I get into the lift that, despite my advice to his staff, I wish on him the biggest, worst, most clanging hangover possible.

A glass of red wine in the hotel bar doesn’t help calm my temper, nor does going to my room and flinging clothes into my case, in the event I can’t convince him to let me stay. Swearing loudly doesn’t make a jot of difference and even throwing my shoes against the wall doesn’t curb the frustration thundering through me. ‘Argh. Bloody, bloody man!’

I’m too wired to sleep; angry, hurt and charged full of sexual energy I can’t do anything with. I can’t believe it’s going to end like this. Sent home early like a disgraced teenager, no reference, no hope, and back to square one. I hold back tears of impotent fury. Suddenly desperate to be free of my dress, I start wrestling with the ties behind my neck. A knock rattles the door. Whoever it is has the worst timing ever. Another knock.

‘Charley, open up.’ Alex. His is the last face I want to see. ‘I’ll stand here for as long as it takes,’ he says flatly, banging on the door again.

I square my shoulders.
Just get it over with.

Wrenching the door open, I come close to taking it off its hinges. Hanging onto the ties of my dress where it’s tangled with the fingers of my left hand, I stand tall. ‘What do you want?’

‘To talk.’

Starting to push the door closed, ‘Not now.’

He shocks me by shouldering open the door, stepping over the threshold. ‘Yes, now.’

There’s a leap of excitement in my belly at his action. Down girl. ‘If you think I’m letting you in here whilst you’re drunk—’

‘I’m not any more.’ He kicks the door closed behind him. ‘I’ve had three espressos and lots of fresh air.’

I take him in. The tux jacket is open, bow tie undone, ends hanging loosely round his neck. The top few buttons of his shirt are open too. His hair is standing up in tufts and his eyes are bloodshot, but sharper than they were. ‘You’re not swaying or slurring,’ I observe, backing up to put space between us.

‘Like I said. I’ve sobered up. I’m sorry. I don’t drink very often, or very much.’

I can’t help it, he looks so ropey – adorable – but ropey, my mouth lifts in a smile. ‘I could kind of tell,’ I say. Then stiffen my shoulders. ‘That doesn’t mean you have the right to barge in here though. Who do you think you are?’

‘A man who’s sorry for upsetting you downstairs?’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he repeats solemnly. ‘Sit down.’

‘I’m fine standing thanks.’

‘Do you ever do as you’re asked? Thialo! You can be so stubborn sometimes.’

I flounder, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. But he’s got me. Of all the things he could call me on, this is the one he’s right about. ‘I am stubborn,’ I admit tiredly, sinking down on the edge of the bed, even though everything in me says to stay standing on principle. ‘Thialo,’ I test the feel of it on my tongue. ‘I thought you didn’t usually speak Greek?’ Remembering his remark about it in the car to the airport. Was that only yesterday? Hard to believe.

‘I don’t, not really. Only when I visit my family,’ Alex starts pacing up and down the room, measuring the dimensions with his steps, ‘but I learnt as a child and sometimes it comes out, especially when … ’

‘When what?’ My arm’s starting to ache from its position behind my head but I’m worried if I try to untangle my hand I’ll flash him.

‘When I’m stressed.’

‘I’m sorry if I stress you out.’ I rub my face with my free hand, exhaustion beginning to take hold. ‘I don’t mean to. It’s not my intention to be …
difficult
.’

Wincing, ‘I know you don’t,’ he says rapidly. ‘That’s not—’ He abandons the sentence with an exasperated huff. ‘There are just other things going on in my life right now that are making it hard for me to keep perspective.’

‘Hence the mission to get falling down drunk?’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘I wasn’t aiming to go that far.’ I let out an unladylike snort, picturing the way I had to steady him against the wall earlier. ‘I needed a release valve.’ He grimaces, ‘But picked the wrong one.’ Rubbing the back of his neck: ‘To be honest, I’m embarrassed. I don’t usually behave like this. You’ve hardly seen me at my best this weekend.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Telling you far too much, getting drunk, ordering you home. I’m not myself at the moment. I pride myself on being professional and I don’t think I have been.’

I’m hardly one to talk, after trying to kiss him this morning and falling into his lap this afternoon. ‘Or perhaps you’re being yourself,’ I suggest.

‘What are you saying?’ he scowls.

‘Perhaps you’re being the person you’re meant to be? The only time I’ve seen you looking anything approaching happy is when you let your guard down, when you’ve relaxed enough in conversations to forget yourself and the formal CEO persona.’

‘Some of us don’t have the luxury of doing what we want. Some of us can’t just run away to the big city.’

‘Hang on. I told you how much grief my parents gave me for that. You think it was easy? It wasn’t. Mum still resents me for not staying close and Dad hates that it upsets her. I’m glad I did it but it’s there under my skin every day, the hurt I caused them.’ I sigh. ‘I guess nothing comes without a price.’

‘Now you’re the one being cynical. I thought you were the optimist. Look, I didn’t come here to argue. And I certainly don’t need any complications.’ Yanking his hand through his messy hair: ‘But I’ve been unfair to you. You were right downstairs, you have worked hard. It’s not your fault if I can’t handle things.’

‘Handle what things?’

He neatly sidesteps the question. ‘I’m sorry for upsetting you.’ His attention is caught by the pile of clothes heaped in the case, blue eyes zeroing in on a lacy red push-up bra. He inhales sharply, looking away. ‘Of course, if you want to stay for the rest of the assignment you can.’

‘Right.’ I slide off the bed and absolutely nothing more comes out my mouth.

‘You don’t seem very happy,’ he frowns. ‘I thought you wanted to stay.’

I can understand his confusion. I should be biting his hand off. I should be overjoyed. It means I can stick to the plan. ‘Do you
want
me to?’ Where did that come from? A warning klaxon sounds in my head, telling me I’m too close to the edge.

‘What does that matter?’ he asks, pacing forward.

‘Do you want–me–to–stay?’ I demand, unable to hold the words safely inside. We’re almost nose to nose. I’m still hanging onto the ties of my dress and my arm is aching something chronic.

‘Of course I don’t!’ His admission stuns me into silence.

Ouch. ‘Why?’

‘Because.’

‘Because I’m difficult?’ I whisper, disappointment slashing through me.

He lets out a kind of growl and then, ‘Not you! Keeping my hands off you.
This
!’ Scooping me up, he kisses the breath out of me, hands moving to grip my face, tongue seeking mine.

Oh,
that.

The clash of our mouths and bodies is fast and furious and my defences dissolve. I find the strength to yank my fingers from my dress ties and drive both hands into his hair, tunnelling into the soft spikiness, lost in darkness, holding onto him. My dress slides down to my waist and he breaks away to look down at my boobs swelling out of the strapless black bra.

‘Beautiful,’ he breathes.

I can’t help it, I love the look in his eyes. Then he kisses me again, asking for even more, to go further. God, it feels so good. His body is so hot, like my own personal radiator. Sweat breaks out across my skin and I push his jacket off blindly, tearing his shirt from his trousers and wrenching it open. Groaning, he presses open-mouthed kisses down my neck, panting as I run my hands over his bare, slightly hairy chest, tracing jagged patterns.

My palms run over his toned pecs and abs, feeling the bumps and ridges.

He is so world-alteringly gorgeous. And so incredibly built.

Thinking doesn’t feature. Lust tugs between my legs, tingles spreading outwards. Edging nearer, I push against his hard glorious body, wanting to get closer, the ache of need throbbing at the back of my throat.

With a muffled groan, he reaches around and unzips my dress, shifting so it slithers to the floor. He grabs my thighs with big hot hands and I wrap them around his waist. And then I’m pinned against the wall and he’s kissing me again, igniting trails of fire in my blood.

My head goes back against the patterned wallpaper. I can’t believe he wants me so much. My back arches, nipples springing to life. It feels like I’m unravelling and tightening at the same time. Alex pushes me higher, hips rocking urgently against me. I can feel how turned on he is and can’t wait until he’s inside me. Deep. Ruthless. Ready to thrill. His mouth travels down to suck at a sensitive spot under my ear, to nibble at my collarbone, moves to lick and then suck on a perky nipple through my bra. The pleasure and need is unbearable, torture.

‘Ohhh  …  yes, yes,’ I call hoarsely, body temperature rocketing, sense of reason sliding away. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

‘Yes?’ His voice is rough and he unhooks my bra, a shiver of delight speeding down my spine in immediate response. He tugs the material out the way. My body is shaking with excitement as Alex’s tongue circles my nipple, then his hand is in my lacy black knickers which are damp with wanting him and his clever fingers are strumming a rhythm that sends me into a shuddering mass of jelly in his arms, demanding release. He slips a long finger inside me and presses forwards and I yelp then moan blissfully and bite his shoulder, skin slightly salty on my tongue. I want him to stop what he’s doing with his hand so I can return the favour, but if he stops I might kill him. I think I’m going to … ‘Yes. Just there … Ooohhhh. Alex.’ Everything clenches, muscles spasm, shivers shoot up my spine, hot waves of orgasm hit and I fall apart, biting down harder on his shoulder.

‘Wow,’ I moan afterwards, dropping my head back against the wallpaper.

Taking a shaky breath, he slides his hand from my knickers and hoists me up and I lean in and kiss him, running my tongue along the edge of his bottom lip before biting gently. He jerks. At the same time, I run my hands down his unbelievable abs and unzip his trousers, slipping my hand inside his jockey shorts. He’s up for it in every way that matters and I moan at the rock solid feel of him pulsing beneath my fingers.

Trembling, his hands tighten round my hips. ‘Charley Caswell, you are one sexy woman,’ he says huskily.

The use of my fake name tweaks my conscience. He doesn’t know who I am or why I’m here. I should stop. It’s not fair on him. Then he pulses in my hand and my fingers close in response. Who am I kidding? ‘Your turn now,’ I say throatily, staring into his intense blue eyes, and he suddenly flinches, body going bow-straight and still. I can feel the tension in his shoulders and arms.

‘Stop,’ he orders, voice barely there. ‘No,’ he says louder, pulling his hips away and releasing my legs so they slide down his. I’m left standing against the wall wearing only my knickers. ‘Shit.’ He runs a hand through his hair, nose flaring as the scent of sex rises between us. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this.’

‘Alex,’ I choke. ‘You’re going to stop now?’ Pointing at the bulge in his trousers.

He flushes, picking up his shirt and shoving his arms into it. ‘We shouldn’t do this. We work together.’

I go cold, common sense flooding back. It sounds like a cop-out, but he’s right. It doesn’t make sense. I’m risking everything. He also has some obvious baggage. His reasons might be different to mine, but having sex would be a really bad idea. Still, the abrupt rejection kills, and doesn’t prevent me wanting to launch myself at him and finish stripping him off for hot dirty sex on the bedroom floor. I bite my tongue to hold back a moan, then inadequately cover my boobs with my hands. ‘Can you … ?’

‘Sure,’ he says crisply, passing my dress to me and deliberately staying as far away as possible. If he’s not careful a girl could get a complex.

‘Thanks.’ Pulling it over my head and smoothing it down my body until the hem hits the floor, I cross my arms around my waist to hide my braless boobs. ‘Can we talk?’

‘No.’ His face is shuttered and I hate it. ‘I’ve got to go. Now,’ he says grimly, fastening shirt buttons and bending over to put his shoes on. I don’t even know when he took them off. My mouth falls open at the sight of his sexy bum bent over right in front of me. My hands clench in my dress. I will not touch him.

‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ he plucks his bow tie off the bed. ‘It was a mistake, a big one. I’m leaving. We’ve got an early start in the morning.’

‘We have.’ A queasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. This is embarrassing. A mistake? A big one? Even if I agree, he’s making me feel like a heap of crap. ‘And you’re right,’ I shoot out as he turns toward the door, ‘it would be better if it hadn’t happened. It was … crazy. But Alex, we’re both adults. You don’t have to run off as if I’m expecting you to propose marriage.’

He emits a sharp laugh, swinging round. ‘If only you knew.’

‘So, tell me.’

He hesitates, frowns. ‘Can't, sorry.’ Setting off toward the door again.

Hot colour floods my face, ‘So I’m good enough to mess around with, but not to talk to?’

‘Charley,’ he recoils. ‘It’s complicated. I’m not in the market for a relationship. For anything. You wouldn’t—’

‘Understand? Nope. No way. You can’t do better than that? Do you know what?’ I shake my head, seething anger and sexual frustration driving me. ‘Don’t do me any favours.’ Bucketing forward I grab his jacket and shove it at him, ‘And don’t let me keep you.’

He seems shocked, holding the jacket against him. ‘Charley—’

‘No. Off you go.’ I can’t remember the last time I felt so humiliated. I pretty much push him across the room, needing him out right this minute.

He opens the door and a growl escapes me when he pauses in the doorway. ‘Wait.’

‘What?’

‘Before I leave … ’

‘Yes?’

Lowering his voice, ‘I need to know that you won’t tell anyone about this.’

I frown. ‘What?’

He smooths down his dark hair, erasing the spikes caused by my frantic clutching when we were kissing. His sharp cheekbones are bright red, eyes darting over everything but me. He looks how I feel. ‘You’re making this harder than it has to be.’