Bronwyn Jameson - Diamonds are for Surrender

It sounded like, “Don’t,” but he paid no heed. With a hand on each shoulder, he turned her into his chest and tucked her close. The tickle of her hair against his chin, the scent of orchids and spice in each breath, twined around his senses and thumped in his pulse.

This was where she belonged. Right here. In his arms.

He would hold her, just hold her, while his hands soothed the bare skin of her arms and the delicate fabric that cloaked her shoulders and her back. Leopard print. With lace peeping from the shoulder straps and the hemline. Underwear aside, it was one the sexiest things he had ever seen her wearing and with each stroke of his hand his control slipped another tenuous notch.

“This dress,” he muttered thickly, his fingers giving up the fight and tracing the delicate line of lace down one shoulder blade, “is not coming on the Janderra trip.”

He felt the flutter of her breath against his throat, the tension in her shoulders, the live-wire jolt of his fingertips on her skin.

“Of course not.” Her voice sounded low, breathy. Turned on. Or at least that’s how Ric’s body interpreted the husky edge. “It’s completely not appropriate for work.”

“Then it’s lucky you’re not yet on the payroll.”

She went perfectly still, and he knew exactly what was ticking through her agile brain. Inappropriate. Work. My boss’s hands on my skin .

Beneath those hands he felt her gathering control. Every cell in his body growled a fierce objection. No way in this life or the next was he letting her go.

When she started to pull away, his hands slid to her upper arms and held her in place; his eyes on her face did the same.

“And since you’re not,” he said, low and dangerous, “I’m not bound to let you go.”

Her nostrils flared as she drew a quick breath, and a new awareness shivered in the air between them. “Even if I ask?”

“Are you asking?”

A beat of pause, the green-diamond flash in her eyes, the quick lick of her tongue to moisten her lips, was all the time Ric allowed for her answer. Then he lifted a hand and touched his thumb to her mouth. He felt the warmth, the moisture, the shudder of her exhalation, and was lost.

He lowered his head and took her mouth with the hunger of years of wanting and the ache of the past week’s emotion. It was no gentle exploration, no tender assault, not once she responded with her own longing, with her hands at last on his arms, his shoulders, twining around his neck to draw him more fiercely into the kiss.

With a low growl, he changed the angle of contact so he could have more of her, more of the sweet heat he craved. When she welcomed him into her mouth, he tasted the impact all the way to his groin. It was sharp, intense, an exquisite surge of lust that he wanted to assuage, here and now.

Hands on her back, he pulled her closer until their bodies were flush and the kiss exploded with a silken savagery. Thigh to thigh, hip to pelvis, breasts to chest, she was everything he remembered of raw heat and unrestrained passion … and still it was not enough. He cupped her buttocks and lifted her against him, all the while turning and backing her toward the credenza.

Breaking the kiss, he lifted her onto the sleek cherrywood surface and her hands slid forward to cradle his face. Her thumbs stroked the corners of his mouth, the effect a gentle contrast to the rough rasp of their breaths. Their gazes locked for a long moment as he palmed the smooth warmth of her thighs, his thumbs circling inward with the same erotic motion as hers.

At first he thought the vibrating hum was her response to his touch. Then she touched a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, her mouth turning down in a frown. “That’s your phone. Don’t you think you should answer it?”

“No,” he growled against her throat. “I don’t.”

But she slipped her hand into his jacket pocket and retrieved the phone. “Ryan,” she mouthed, hitting the answer button and holding the receiver to her ear.

Ric’s growl turned into an internal groan … until she sat up straight, her eyes big and stark in her suddenly pale face.

“What is it?” he asked.

With a trembling hand she passed over the phone. “He’s just taken a call from the search area. They’ve located the wreckage.”

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