She flicked her hair back, her hand flexing around the door edge still determined, but it was her eyes that gave her away, even as she spoke. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
‘Really?’ He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to stroke along her jaw, his thumb tracing over her lower lip.
She made a small noise in her throat—almost a whimper, almost a moan—her eyes falling to his mouth, her teeth drawing back the lip he’d just traced.
‘Can you honestly deny this chemistry?’ he pressed.
Her head shook, the move so slight. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted—no, craved—her verbal denial. ‘No?’
‘No,’ she breathed, her head shaking that little bit more. ‘I can’t deny it.’
Yes. His restraint snapped and he propelled forward, his desire taking her to the wall, his hands thrusting into her hair as her bag hit the floor. She gazed up at him, eyes wide, and then her hands were in his hair dragging him down, their lips colliding in a fierce kiss, tongues plundering desperately.
Heat exploded through him, her essence flooding his taste buds, her hunger rivalling his own, their hands travelling everywhere all at once, wild and crazed.
‘I need to have you,’ he rasped over her, the force of his desire shaking him up inside; he was like a man starved.
‘But you’ll ruin me.’
He pinned her forehead with his own, staring down into her blazing gaze and seeing fear in the depths of her eyes.
Kristus, take a pause, reassure her.
‘I won’t, I promise,’ he assured her. ‘I court the press, not the other way around.’
He felt her brow furrow beneath his. ‘You court the press?’
‘Yes, I control what they see. It’s on my terms, most of the time.’
‘Your terms?’
He took a deep breath, his hands loosening their hold in her hair, his eyes closing. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading; it gave too much away, went too deep. And there was no way she’d understand. Fuck, even he was starting to struggle. ‘It’s complicated.’
She palmed his chest, pushing him away, the heat of her touch searing through his shirt even as she parted their bodies and the cold air seeped between them. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it, the disgust in hers tearing through him.
‘You want them to splash you all over the media,’ she said incredulously, her frown furrowing further, her body righting as her own strength seemed to build at the disappearance of his. ‘You want to feed this hideous persona.’
‘It is what it is,’ he said simply, although inside he hurt, actually hurt.
What the hell is wrong with you?
He looked into her eyes, to the disgust still burning bright, and something inside him died. An irrational anger surging. ‘I am what I am.’
‘But why?’ She shook her head. ‘Why be like that at all?’
Why? He had a thousand reasons why, although, in truth, it really came down to two. His parents. They’d taught him all he needed to know. But that was none of her business. He didn’t need to indulge this conversation. He could sooner be gone and get himself back to how things were, in company where he could be at ease with who he was. Johansson was waiting on him after all. ‘I have to go.’
‘Can’t you at least try and explain it to me?’
Explain? Kristus, she was at it again.
Pressing into his past, forcing it to the surface, making him talk. She really wasn’t his type. He never should have come here. Never should have pushed to indulge this crazy obsession he had developed over her.
‘Why?’ He threw his panic-driven anger at her, not caring that it was misdirected, not caring that she wrapped her arms around her middle in a gesture that smacked of her own pain. ‘You want me to convince you that you’re not just another notch in my headboard?’
Her cheeks paled, and he knew he’d hit his mark, but the joke was on him. He was the one that needed convincing of that fact, not her.
He thrust his fingers