Captivated by the Tycoon (The Whittakers #4)(19)
Author: Anna DePalo

She’d come this evening dressed down—sort of—in jeans, practical heels and a clingy pink cashmere sweater. Work attire, or seduce-me wear, depending on how you looked at it. After all, she’d come to work, and, well—she hoped or feared—maybe something else.

He, not surprisingly, was dressed in Levi’s. Stealing a surreptitious look at him, she noted he still managed to look commanding in an open-collar green shirt.

A tremor of sexual awareness went through her, then, restless, she got up to place the photo in her hand on a nearby side table.

Matt took the opportunity to sweep her an appreciative look.

She saw the look, and the photo frame slipped from her nerveless fingers. Matt caught it before it hit the floor.

In the same fluid motion, he stood up, his body brushing hers in the tight space between the couch and coffee table.

“Here—”

“No, I—”

They both stopped, the air between them pulsating with suppressed desires.

This was what she had come for.

She caught his raw male scent—soap and clean skin and just a whiff of shaving lotion—and the feminine core of her responded like a bee to nectar.

He lowered the photo frame, and her outstretched hand fell away from it at the same time.

“Where were you planning to put it?” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her heart drummed in her ears.

“On the side table,” she said, her voice breathy.

He nodded consideringly. “Good choice.”

“You don’t want the cluttered photo frame look. Just a touch is enough.”

Her body cried out for him to touch her. Now.

“Uh-huh,” he said, his voice thick.

She wet her lips, and like a laser, his eyes homed in on the movement.

“Does—does your offer still stand?”

He gave her a half-lidded look. “Depends on what offer we’re talking about.”

He was going to make her say it.

Her lips parted, but the words refused to come.

He slowly raised his free hand. With the backs of his fingers, he stroked down her cheek and the side of her neck.

She turned her face into the caress.

Not looking at him, she said in a low voice, “I’m talking about the offer to explore the attraction between us.”

She was willing to take what came.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured.

He dropped the photo frame on the couch, and bent and kissed her.

The kiss was sure, thorough and consuming.

His hands cupped her shoulders and pulled her toward him, and for the first time she felt what it was like to be pressed against his long, hard masculine frame.

She wanted his encompassing heat as he deepened the kiss and it went on and on.

When he finally broke away, he bent and swept her up in his arms.

She was cradled high against his chest, her arm draped around his neck as his legs ate up the space between the living room and the back of the penthouse.

When they reached the master suite, he lowered her to the king-size bed, and its sumptuous bedding buoyed her—like an angel held aloft on a puffy cloud.

She had a passing impression of being surrounded by overpowering masculinity before he came down beside her.

He kissed her throat and caressed her thigh.

She looked up at the ceiling above her. A glimmer of doubt skittered along the edges of her mind.

She closed her eyes against it.

She could do this. She yearned for him.

It wouldn’t be like the other times. She could will her body to take and give the pleasure he was showing her.

“Relax,” he muttered against her throat. “Relax.”

But his words had the opposite of their intended effect, and she stiffened further.

Her mind raced, trying to remember the thoughts that had brought her here—the edge of the cliff—where she usually balked.

Nothing was different. Not really.

How many times had Parker told her to relax, his voice holding a note of growing frustration?

Her thoughts picked up speed.

She’d been crazy to think she could tangle with a man like Matthew Whittaker. He was sophisticated, wealthy and experienced. Yes, he might appear wooden to the casual observer, but underneath lay a potent, sensual man.

And she was bound to disappoint, like an amateur cook at an Iron Chef competition.

“Stop.”

The word tore from her.

To his credit, he drew back immediately and rolled to her side.

She bolted to a sitting position, and looked down at him.

His chest rose and fell, his breathing slowing.

He spoke first. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t do this.”

A puzzled frown marred his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I…I mean—” what did she mean? “—it’s not what I want.”

“You came to that conclusion only once we were horizontal and tangled on the bed together?”

He could also have added painfully aroused, she thought as her eyes slipped past the bulge in his pants, but she was glad he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said lamely.

He frowned and sat up. “What is this? Some sort of game? One of your matchmaker tests to see if I can stop when the woman says no?”

When she made no response, his face changed, confusion hardening to anger and suspicion. “Or was this some little scheme of yours?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean,” he said coolly, “did you set it up so you could threaten to run to the newspapers with a story about my unwanted advances?”

“What? No! How could you even think such a thing?” She stood up, needing the space between, tugging at her twisted clothing.

“I’m a target,” he went on ruthlessly. “A walking meal ticket in some women’s eyes. Get something unsavory on me, and I can be hit up for hush money. I hired you to make sure those were the type of women I didn’t meet.”

He thought she was trying to blackmail him? His accusation left her breathless with outrage. But then again, it was her own fault for getting involved with him.

Her experience with Parker should have taught her all about men like Matthew Whittaker.

“Running to the press would undermine everything you hired me to do,” she said, her tone frosty. “I mean, it would hardly help you attract the perfect woman if you had the reputation of being a snake, now would it?”

He stood up, reversing the height difference between them, and making her conscious once again of just how big and male he was.