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course,’ she whispered softly, noticing now how his eyes were drawn hypnotically to the pert thrust of her breasts against the copper satin of her dress. ‘We can’t go on the way we have been, Dominic. I hate to be thought of as a tease—and so, I’m sure, do you. And we’ve been teasing one another for five long years now. Don’t you think it’s time we did something to put each other out of our misery?’

      Dominic swallowed as he fought to retain some sort of hold on reality. ‘Is this your famous saturation therapy?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Is this the ultimate method for getting me out of your system?’

      She didn’t answer that, just leaned across and ran a finger delicately down the side of his face, and then let it trace the full outline of his mouth. She saw his lips tremble at exactly the same moment as his eyes darkened, and felt a great rush of delight as she realised that—sexually, at least—she had as much power over him as he had over her.

      And in order to control that power, in order not to give way to foolish thoughts of love, she needed to be strong.

      She prayed for the courage to ask her next question just as he lifted her hand to his mouth, to cover the palm with tiny kisses.

      ‘Dominic?’

      ‘Mmm?’ His eyes were closed, his voice sounded dreamy.

      ‘Why exactly did you invite me here this weekend?’

      His eyelids flew open, his expression suddenly wary.

      Romy shook her head impatiently. ‘And don’t give me any of that “you were the best person for the job” rubbish. There are lots of other people who would have done as well; you know that and I know that.’

      ‘My answer is clearly redundant,’ came his dry response. ‘Since you’ve obviously made up your mind already. What have you decided, Romy—that I brought you here to seduce you into submission?’

      ‘To make me fall in love with you?’ she suggested.

      His eyes narrowed. ‘That’s a fairly hefty accusation.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘And why would I want to do something like that?’

      Why indeed? When Dominic fell in love and married, it would not be to a woman who behaved in the way that she had behaved. She voiced her greatest fear. ‘Probably so that you could give me the push in the most horrible way possible and break my heart into the bargain!’ she accused wildly.

      That watchful expression had crept over his face again. ‘Well, there isn’t much chance of that happening, is there, Romy? Since you haven’t fallen in love with me.’ His lashes shadowed his silver eyes. ‘Have you?’

      Romy decided that a lie was acceptable if it enabled her to preserve her sanity. ‘Of course not!’ she scoffed.

      ‘Well, then, subject closed.’ He lay back on the sofa and frowned. ‘So I suppose that means bed is out of the question?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said demurely. ‘It is now. Sorry.’ She treasured his stricken look for a moment, before deciding to put him out of his misery.

      She climbed across the sofa towards him, hitching her long satin dress up as she did so, and she saw the involuntary flicker of a muscle working in his cheek. She would leave long before he could kick her out, she decided—and in the meantime she would give him a night he would never forget.

      ‘No bed, but there’s always the sofa,’ she explained softly.

      His eyes narrowed in comprehension just as her mouth swooped down on his. And he groaned and brought her hard against his chest, deepening the kiss with such mastery that Romy almost passed out with pleasure.

      Dominic felt so hot for her that he could barely think. All he did know was that if Romy carried on writhing around on his lap wearing that outrageously clinging dress, then things were going to get rapidly out of control.

      And he needed to be in control as never before in his life. Because up until now his whole relationship with Romy had been characterised by a complete lack of control.

      Somehow he managed to free himself from the delicious honeyed softness of her mouth, and she gave an indistinct little moan of protest.

      ‘Wh-what are you doing?’ she questioned, quashing down the fear that he now despised her so much, he couldn’t even bring himself to make love to her.

      Dominic rose to his feet, his arm around her bare back so that she came with him. ‘I’m taking you upstairs, Romy. To my bedroom. Where I can slowly peel every article of clothing from that delicious body of yours. Then I’m going to lay you down between sheets of the finest white linen and make love to you over and over again until I’ve filled you so completely that you beg me to stop.’

      Romy shuddered.

      ‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘I can see your body trembling in anticipation, just like mine is trembling now, with pure, sweet desire. See, sweetheart.’ And to demonstrate he held both his hands up towards her and Romy saw that yes, indeed, they were shaking like mad.

      But what he didn’t realise was that she was trembling with fear, a fear which had completely swamped her desire. She absolutely dreaded seeing his bed—the scene, no doubt, of countless other seductions.

      And she dreaded the inevitable comparisons. She was bound to fare badly in the good-in-bed stakes—especially when measured up against some of the experienced beauties who had cavorted all over the place with him.

      He must have felt her stiffen, for he lifted her chin and looked down into her face, his stern expression giving way to something almost approaching disappointment as he read her sudden withdrawal.

      ‘Just what is it with you?’ he demanded, in a voice which rang with an odd, cold kind of exasperation. ‘Don’t you get turned on by straight sex any more, Romy? Is your appetite so jaded that you can only get your kicks in the most bizarre ways possible? In the lift? In the garden? And now you want us to make love for the first time on the sofa—as if we were two teenagers with nowhere to go!’

      ‘Don’t!’ she told him tightly. ‘Please don’t.’

      ‘But why not?’ he queried, in mock surprise. ‘I’m interested to hear what you have to say. Isn’t there a name for people who like making love in public places? Is that what turns you on, Romy—the fear of discovery? Does it enhance your pleasure to think that someone might stumble in on us just as you’re helplessly gasping out at the height of your orgasm? Does it?’

      The trouble was that his words—far from appalling her—were actually turning her on to a pitch that was becoming impossible to conceal.

      And Dominic noticed, too—for he gave a cynical little laugh as his eyes raked over her. He saw the blatant tightening of her nipples, outlined starkly against the rich satin of her bodice. He noticed the distracted little way she circled her hips, the way her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her eyes looked as black as hell, and he would have bet his entire fortune that if he’d snaked one of his hands all the way up her leg to her panties she would have practically begged him to remove them.

      He pushed her back onto the sofa, his eyes glittering wildly. ‘So this is how you like it, is it? Hmm? And what next? Tell me what you like best, Romy, and I’ll do it to you.’ His eyes narrowed as she made no response.

      ‘Let me guess,’ he continued inexorably. ‘You want it hard and you want it fast, right? You want me to rip your panties off and just thrust straight into you, don’t you, sweetheart? Because that’s how you like it! Greedy and rapacious—that’s what turns you on most. And, like all sexually greedy people, it’s instant gratification that you crave. The instant buzz. The quick fix. Like a take-away meal, you simply want sex to satisfy your hunger. Don’t you, Romy?’

      How she longed to slap his horrible, arrogant face and push him away. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t. His words were driving her absolutely mad with desire.

      ‘I—’

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