Kate Hewitt - His Brand Of Passion

So much so that she didn’t even move as his hand slid up her thigh, his fingers warm and seeking on her bare flesh. His gaze was riveted on hers, and she knew, no matter how angry or determined he was, he felt something for her. She could feel the attraction between them, heavy and thick. His hand slid higher, smoothing along her hip before he finally found the phone with his fingers and tugged it down. And she hadn’t resisted at all, not even the tiniest bit.

‘I can’t believe you,’ she whispered and he smiled.

‘Believe it.’ He slid his hand lower to the juncture of her thighs, the phone in his palm. Zoe’s breath came out in a devastated rush as he pressed his hand against her, the phone still in it, cool against her heated and tender flesh. Sensation sizzled straight through her and she sagged against the counter.

‘You are incredible.’

‘Why, thank you.’ He pressed again and she closed her eyes, feeling utterly exposed and shameless, yet helpless to prevent it.

‘It wasn’t a compliment,’ she managed, and he laughed softly.

‘Considering the response I’m coaxing from you, I rather think it was.’

Zoe opened her eyes, forced herself to straighten. ‘What I really meant is that you’re incorrigible.’

‘True.’ His hand was still between her legs, teasing her, tormenting her. It took all her effort to remain still, not to allow her body to invite his deeper caresses. ‘But then so are you.’ He stared at her for a long moment, and then with one last press of his hand he stepped away. ‘Thanks for my phone,’ he said, and then he was gone.

Aaron stalked from the bathroom, his whole body blazing with unfulfilled desire. He had not expected that to happen, for that skinny, seriously annoying woman to awaken in him such a fierce need. Well, she had, and it was going to be incredibly difficult to focus on work as he needed to.

Swearing under his breath, he found a private alcove in the ballroom and checked his messages and texts. Just as he’d thought, the European market was imploding and his investors were panicking. He spent thirty minutes doing damage control and then he slid his phone back into his pocket.

He stared into space for a few minutes, felt the familiar cold wash of fear sweep through him. He hated these close calls. Hated feeling, as he’d felt for fifteen years, like Bryant Enterprises was about to slip out of his grasp even as it remained the chain that bound and choked him.

How much had those few hours without his phone cost him? It was impossible to measure, yet Aaron knew there was a cost. There always had been, always would be. And with a sudden, cold certainty, he also knew who was going to pay this time.

He strode back into the reception and saw that things were starting to wind down. Chase and Millie were coming out in their going-away clothes for a week’s honeymoon on St Julian’s, the Bryants’ private island in the Caribbean. Zoe stood behind her sister, smiling, although Aaron thought she looked rather wistful, maybe even sad. She hardly seemed like the type to want a ring on her finger, but who knew? Most women wanted one. Wanted the ridiculous fairy tale, the impossible dream.

He waited until Chase and Millie had left and the other guests were starting to trickle away. He said goodbye to Luke and Aurelie, managing a few minutes’ stilted conversation, before he went in search of Zoe.

She was standing by their table, picking some bits of confetti out of her bouquet. Her hair streamed over her shoulders in a dark ribbon, her body lithe and slender, and Aaron remembered just how silky and warm her skin had felt, how her body had helplessly yielded to his.

He strode towards her. She glanced up at him, and he felt her tense, her eyes dark with shadows. ‘What do you want now?’

‘You,’ he said flatly, and her jaw dropped.

‘What—?’

‘I have a limo waiting outside.’

She stared at him in disbelief and Aaron wondered in a detached sort of way if she’d refuse. He’d felt her response earlier, the heat and the strength of it. He was pretty sure she’d felt his own. If she refused, she had more scruples—or at least more self-control—than he’d credited her with.

Wordlessly Zoe tossed her bouquet back on the table. ‘Let’s go,’ she said and, with a smile of triumph curling his mouth, Aaron led her out of the ballroom.

SHE DIDN’T DO stuff like this—one-night stands, flings with strangers. It was crazy. She was crazy, Zoe thought as she followed Aaron outside into the warm summer air and then straight into the luxurious leather interior of the limo that was waiting by the kerb, just as he’d said.

What on earth had made her agree? She didn’t even like him. But she was incredibly, irresistibly attracted to him. And, Zoe realised with a sudden flash of insight, the fact that she didn’t like him made this whole encounter emotionally safe. Aaron Bryant was no danger to her already battle-worn heart. Even if this whole scenario was way outside her comfort zone.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as the limo pulled away from the Plaza.

‘My apartment.’

She nodded, felt a little frisson of something close to fear. This was so not her. She might give off that reckless, devil-may-care attitude, but in her relationships she’d been depressingly, boringly conservative. And she’d got hurt time and time again as a result.

Maybe this was the way to go.

‘Nervous?’ Aaron asked, the word mocking, and Zoe just shrugged.

‘Going home with a strange man to his apartment is a little out of the usual for me, no matter what you might think. But, considering how well-known you are, I think I’m pretty safe.’

Aaron stretched his arms out along the seat, his fingers just brushing her shoulder. Zoe resisted the urge to shiver under that thoughtless touch. ‘How do you reckon that?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think,’ Zoe said, ‘you want any bad publicity.’

He frowned, his eyes narrowing, before his wonderfully mobile mouth suddenly curved into a surprising smile. ‘Are you actually threatening me?’

‘Not at all. Just stating facts. And in any case, like you said earlier, we’re practically family. It’s hard to believe you’re related to Chase, but since you are I’ll assume you’re not a complete psycho.’

‘Thanks very much for that vote of confidence,’ Aaron said dryly. He turned to gaze out of the window. ‘Why is it hard to believe I’m related to Chase?’

Zoe shrugged. ‘Mainly because he’s actually nice.’

‘I see.’ He didn’t seem at all offended, more amused. Zoe glanced out of the window at the cars and taxis streaming by in a blur. ‘So where is your apartment, exactly?’

‘We’re here.’

‘Here’ was a luxury high-rise on West End Avenue, and Aaron’s apartment was, unsurprisingly, the penthouse. The lift doors opened right into the living area, and Zoe stepped into a temple of modern design with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides overlooking the city and the Hudson River.

‘Nice,’ she remarked, taking in the black leather sofas, the chrome-and-glass coffee table, the modern sculpture, and the white faux fur rug. A granite-and-marble kitchen opened onto a dining area with an ebony table that seated twelve. Everything was spotless, empty, barren. The place, Zoe decided, had no soul. Just like the man.

She walked to the window overlooking the Hudson, the inky-black river glimmering with lights. She felt Aaron approach from behind her, and then she shivered as he moved her hair and brushed his lips across the bared nape of her neck.

His hands fastened on her hips and then slid slowly upwards over the silk of her dress to cup her breasts. Zoe shivered again and then, with effort, stepped away.