Page 39 of Hate to Crave You
“It’s almost midnight. I wasn’t about to bother John. He’s got a young baby and I imagine he’d like to sleep at some point.” She rolled her eyes, a faint smile on her lips.
He wanted to kiss it off.
At the same time, he wanted to grab her and shake her. Echoes of his father’s blistering words rang in his ears and the fury snapped out of control. As the cab pulled away from the curb, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I imagine you’re quite proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Should I be?” Julianna cocked her head to the side. Her shining sweep of brown hair fell forward, the ends curling just at the slope of her breasts. The chocolate brown suede coat she was wearing concealed way too much of her shapely lines and curves from him. He wanted to push it away, to reveal the body that had been haunting his dreams. “I merely did my job.”
“Setting me up…that was your job?”
“And stealing from me was yours?” she fired back.
“Oh, you would have done the same thing,” he said, slashing a hand through the air. “You stabbed me in the back. Don’t act like the injured party here.”
“Oh, please. I hardly stabbed you in the back. You went snooping throughmythings.” She paused a brief moment, giving him a pointed glare. “Perhaps it wasn’t you directly, but you arranged it. If you didn’t want to get misled, perhaps you should have waited your turn and played fair. Anddo nottell me what I would and wouldn’t have done. Just because we’ve had sex a few times that doesn’t mean you know me, Roman.”
He started to respond, but the words that formed in his throat weren’t ones he wanted to voice just then—not when he was this angry.I want to…He couldn’t tell her that. She’d just take advantage of it.
Just like she took advantage of his silence, moving in on him and speaking in a lowered voice. “You know, you could stand to grow up a little. Weren’t you the one talking about how you didn’t care for this stupid feud going on between our families? Or was that part of the act? Another fairy tale like the one you made up about us knowing each other back when we were kids?”
“Hey…” He held up a hand, ready to correct her.
She cut him off. “I’m not angry. It’s not like I’m going to hold a grudge or anything. It was business. What we have now is personal…unless you decide otherwise. If that’s going to be the case, tell me now and I’ll go.”
She gave him a cool look.
He almost did tell her something—he almost corrected her mistaken belief that he’d made up the story about them spending time together in the hospital. But in the end, he just gestured to the building. She turned on her heel and strode inside.
He followed after her, but when she stopped at the main elevator bank, he caught her arm and tugged her along after him. “I have a private elevator.” He guided her to it, punching in his code and as he waited for it to arrive, he wondered if maybe he should have just told her to leave.
But she slid a look his way, her eyes dropping to linger on his mouth.
The doors to the elevator slid open and they stepped inside.
She brushed past him and he caught the scent of her skin.
He’d had the scent on his sheets up until his housekeeper washed them yesterday and it had driven him slightly mad.
Anger still burned inside him and abruptly, he turned on her. Simultaneously, he reached out and pushed thestopbutton on the elevator. Her eyes swept to his just as he caught her arms and pulled her to him. “Come here,” he demanded.
Her eyes widened at the starkness of his tone, but she acquiesced. Her mouth was soft under his as he brought his lips down on hers and he ignored the weak moan that escaped her when he drove his tongue deep. He didn’t want soft and sweet right now.
Her hands curled into the lapels of his coat and he caught her wrists, wrenched them away and pinned them together in one hand, pressing them to the wall overhead.
“Roman,” she whispered.
“Be quiet.” He kissed a stinging line down her throat to the vee neck of her sweater, irritated when the neckline barred him from tasting more of her flesh. He shoved his hand under the hem and pushed it up, baring her breasts. “I’m going to taste your tits.”
“We’re in the elevator.”
“Already told you,” he said, freeing the front clasp of her bra. “It’s a private elevator.” Then he slanted a dark look up at her. “Unless you want to leave.”
Her lashes fluttered, then she sagged back against the wall. Taking it as submission, he lowered his head. With his free hand, he cupped one breast in his hand, lifting it high for his mouth. He tasted her with teeth and tongue and she was soon arching against him, her spine a long, slim bow. She tugged against his restraining hands.
“I want to touch you,” she pleaded.
He didn’t respond as he reached down with his free hand to draw the long denim skirt she wore up. But there were too many clothes between them, the layers an irritation and he finally did release her hands, straightening to reach for the button of the skirt. It fell to her ankles, revealing her to be wearing a skimpy pair of pale ivory panties and chocolate brown boots that went well over her knees.
He grabbed the panties, fisting his hands in the silky strings that stretched over her hips and he tore, renting the material and letting it fall to the floor of the elevator.
