LITMIR.BIZ

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      Did he want that, too?

      Could he?

      Her heart was beating so hard and fast, all she could hear and feel was the hot pulse of her blood through her body.

      ‘That would be great. Thank you,’ she managed to force past her dry throat.

      She rotated on the spot until her back was to him, her whole body vibrating with tension as she felt his fingers graze her skin as he released each of the buttons in turn.

      As soon as the last one popped free, she trapped the now loose dress against her body and turned to face him again, trying to summon an expression that wouldn’t give her feelings away.

      He looked at her for the longest time, his eyes wide and dark and his breathing shallow.

      She watched him flick his tongue between his lips and something snapped inside her. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she rocked forward on her toes and tipped her head up, pressing her mouth to his. His lips were firm under hers and his scent enveloped her, wrapping round her senses, only adding to her violent pull of need to deepen the kiss.

      Until she realised he wasn’t kissing her back.

      He hadn’t moved away from her, but she could feel how tense he was under her touch. As if he was holding himself rigid.

      She stilled, one hand anchoring herself against his broad shoulder, the other still holding her dress tightly against her body, and pulled away, eyes screwed shut, her stomach plummeting to her shoes at his lack of response.

      What had she done?

      When she dared open her eyes, he was looking at her with such an expression of torment that she had to close them again.

      ‘I’m sorry. So, so sorry,’ she whispered, her throat locking up and her face burning with mortification.

      ‘Cara—’ He sounded troubled. Aggrieved. Exasperated.

      Stumbling away from him, her back hit the wall again and she felt her way blindly into her bedroom and slammed the door shut, leaning back on it as if it would keep out the horror of the past few seconds.

      Which, of course, it wouldn’t.

      What must he think of her? All he’d done was offer to help her with her dress and she’d thrown herself at him. What had possessed her to do that when she knew he wasn’t over losing his wife? How could she have thought he wanted anything more to develop between them?

      She was a fool.

      And she couldn’t even blame it on alcohol because she’d been drinking soft drinks for the past couple of hours.

      She jumped in fright as she felt Max knock on the door, the vibration of it echoing through her tightly strung body. She knew she had to face him. To apologise and try to find some way to make things right again.

      Struggling to get her breathing under control, she stepped away from the door and opened it, forcing herself to look up into Max’s face with as much cool confidence as she could muster.

      Before he could say anything, she held up a hand. ‘I really am sorry... I don’t know what happened. It won’t ever happen ag—’

      But, before she could finish the sentence, he took a step towards her, the expression in his eyes wild and intense as he slid his hand into her hair, drawing her forward and pressing his lips against hers.

      They stumbled into the room, off balance, as their mouths crashed together. Electric heat exploded deep within her and she heard him groan with pleasure when she pressed her body hard into his. She could feel the urgency in him as he pushed her back against the wall, his hard body trapping her there as he fervently explored her mouth with his own, his tongue sliding firmly against hers. Taking a step back, he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift movement and dropped it onto the floor next to them.

      ‘Are you sure you want this, Cara?’ he asked, his voice guttural and low as she feverishly ran her hands over the dips and swells of his chest in dazed wonder.

      ‘Yes.’

      She smiled as he exhaled in relief and brought his mouth back down to hers, sliding his hands down to her thighs so he could pick her up and carry her over to the bed.

      Then there was no more talking, just the feel of his solid body pressed hard against hers and the slide and twist of his muscles under his soft skin and—sensation—a riot of sensation that she sunk into and lost herself in. Her body had craved this for so long it was a sweet, beautiful relief to finally have what she wanted.

      What she needed.

      In those moments there was no past and no future; they were purely living for the moment.

      And it was absolutely perfect.

       CHAPTER NINE

      MAX AWOKE FROM such a deep sleep it took him a while to realise that he wasn’t in his own bed.

      And that he wasn’t alone.

      Cara’s warm body was pressed up against his back, her arm draped heavily over his hip and her head tucked in between his shoulder blades. He could feel her breath against his skin and hear her gentle exhalations.

      Memories from the night they’d just spent together flitted through his head like a film on fast-forward, the intensity of them making his skin tingle and his blood pound through his body. It had been amazing. More than amazing. It had rocked his world.

      It had felt so good holding her in his arms, feeling her respond so willingly to his demands and clearly enjoying making her own on him.

      But, lying here now, he knew it had been a mistake.

      It was too soon after losing his wife to be feeling like that. It felt wrong—somehow seedy and inappropriate. Greedy.

      He’d had his shot at love and it wasn’t right that he should get another one. Especially not so soon after losing Jemima. In the cold light of day it seemed tasteless somehow, as if he hadn’t paid his dues.

      He’d been in such a fog of need all day yesterday that he’d pushed all the rational arguments to the back of his head and just taken what he’d wanted, which had been totally unfair on Cara.

      He wasn’t ready to give himself over to a relationship again. And he knew that Cara would need more from him than he was able to give. She’d want the fairy tale, and he was no Prince Charming.

      The worst thing was: he’d known that this was going to happen. From the moment he’d set eyes on her. He’d been attracted to her, even though he’d pretended to himself that he wasn’t. And he’d only made things worse for himself by keeping her at arm’s length. The more he’d told himself no, the more he’d wanted her. That was why he’d really thought it best to get rid of her quickly, before anything could happen between them. And then, once it became clear there was no hiding from the fact she was a positive force in his life, he’d pretended to himself that he wanted her to stay purely for her skills as a PA.

      Idiot.

      It had well and truly backfired on him.

      This was precisely why he’d stopped himself from becoming friends with her at the beginning. He’d known it would guide them down a dangerous path.

      His concerns hadn’t stopped him from knocking on her door after she’d run away from him last night, though. Even after it had taken everything he’d had not to respond to that first kiss. But she’d looked so hurt, so devastatingly bereft that he’d found himself chasing after her to try and put it right. And, judging by her reaction when he’d been unable to hold back a second time and stop himself from kissing her, she’d been just as desperate as him for it to happen. In fact, the small, encouraging noises that had driven him wild made him think she’d wanted it for a while.

      And, as his penance,

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