Nicola Marsh - Out of Hours...Office Affairs - Can't Get Enough / Wild Nights with her Wicked Boss / Bound to the Greek

“Yeah?” he said, one hand coming up to push the hair back from his forehead. The action hid his face from her momentarily, just when it was very important that she be able to see his face, his reaction. His body seemed tight, defensive. What was he thinking? His hand dropped down at last, and she studied him closely.

He glanced across at her, his eyes flicking down from her face to her still-sprawling body. Suddenly she felt exposed, spread out in front of him with her skirt rucked up, her bra pulled down. With trembling hands she tugged her bra into place and slid her panties on before pushing her skirt down, listening all the while to the cryptic, monosyllabic conversation Jack was having with whomever was on the other end of the phone.

“Great, thanks,” Jack said, at last placing the receiver back on the hook.

He reached for his boxers before he spoke.

“Ted estimates about five minutes,” he reported, and she nodded her understanding.

It was over. They were about to be rescued, and their enforced encounter was at an end. Neither of them said anything as they shuffled into the rest of their clothes. Claire didn’t know what to think or feel. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she was shocked at what had just happened. She felt as though she was swimming in treacle as she tried to analyze her feelings. It had been so good…so intense. She’d never felt anything close to the kind of passion she’d just experienced.

But now it was over, and it was back to the real world, to office politics and maneuvering and executive meetings ad infinitum.

She shot a glance across at Jack, trying to work out what he was thinking. They’d just had the wildest, most uninhibited sex in all the world. Was he feeling as shell-shocked and shaky and amazed as she was?

He glanced across at her, his expression unreadable, and her spirits sagged. Of course he wasn’t. She was kidding herself. He was probably thrilled to be getting out of here. As she should be. What had just happened had been an aberration, an insane one-off that would never have happened outside of this very particular set of circumstances. Hell, it probably happened to him every second day—this was the office stud they were talking about, after all.

“They’re winching us to the nearest floor,” Jack explained belatedly.

They’d pry the doors open there, and then they would go their separate ways. This moment, this incredible, challenging time-out from the normal world, would be gone forever.

Claire found herself reaching into her bag, grabbing one of her business cards and a pen. Urgent, she scribbled her home number on it, not thinking, just feeling. She’d just shared the most extraordinary physical connection with this man. It had been more than great sex—surely she hadn’t imagined it? Surely, he, too, must think that there was something undiscovered here—something with so much potential that it would be crazy to walk away from it?

“Here,” she said softly, and when he met her eyes she saw Jack’s confusion and amazement and she felt a surge of confidence as she slid the card into his hand.

“My home number,” she said huskily.

Before he could respond, the elevator lurched up several feet, and the sound of screeching metal filled the car. Slowly the doors slid open to reveal a crowd of onlookers and rescue workers.

She and Jack were swept up by their various assistants and colleagues, and before she knew it, Jack was heading one way down the hall, and she was being ushered another. She glanced over her shoulder once, but he was listening to something his assistant was saying and he didn’t see her.

It was almost as though it all had never happened. But she remembered the look in his eyes as she slid the card into his hand.

He’ll call , she assured herself fiercely. He has to after what just happened between us… .

JACK PROPPED Claire’s business card on his hall bureau as soon as he got home, liking the invitation and potential contained in that small piece of card. It was a no-brainer, really. He’d just had the best sex of his life, and she’d told him to call her. What man wouldn’t want more of what he’d just tasted?

Still, there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn’t until he was shucking his clothes in the bathroom and stepping into the shower that he realized he couldn’t possibly call. Because there’d been that moment afterward, when he’d still been inside her. He’d looked down into her eyes and seen so much vulnerability and surprise and amazement in her face. And he’d felt a weird surge of protectiveness and tenderness that had nothing to do with hot sex or physical chemistry….

Every survival instinct he possessed screamed “Run.” And he was used to following those instincts—not for nothing had he remained single all these years.

The bottom line was that Claire Marsden intrigued him and attracted him in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, and every instinct told him that that was very dangerous to his status quo, hot sex or no hot sex.

Even as he acknowledged this and accepted it, his body protested. How could he walk away from something so hot and intense? His hands curved reflexively as he remembered the weight of her breasts, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment and groaned with frustration as he remembered the taste of her and the smell of her and the feel of her. She’d been pure desire, uninhibited, wild. Tight and wet and so responsive, her body seemingly attuned to his naturally.

He made a disgusted noise as he registered that he was now fully erect and aching for round two with Claire Marsden. Brutal, he switched the shower to cold and stood with gritted teeth under the punishing spray for a full five minutes, trying to purge the memory of her silky skin.

Because it wasn’t just about animal attraction. There was more—that wasn’t the only thing that drew him. He admired her bravery in holding up under the ridiculous conditions Morgan Beck had imposed on her. He thought she was funny and clever. And for some reason, he’d told her about his brother when he hadn’t spoken about Robbie with anyone—family included—for more than a year.

And that was the scary part. Because even now he was wondering if she was okay, wondering what she was thinking. Perhaps she was in the shower, too….

He stepped from the shower and swiped at the water on his chest and arms with a towel. He couldn’t call her, it was as simple as that. Claire had to be off-limits. He liked her, and he couldn’t raise her expectations. He wasn’t a forever kind of guy, and she was a forever kind of woman. It was never a good combination, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

And she scares the crap out of you , an honest little voice chimed deep inside him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted, however, when he passed that taunting white rectangle an hour later. Fortuitously, he had his portable phone in hand, and he almost dialed her number. Almost.

It was exactly because he wanted to call her so much that he didn’t. There was something different about Claire, about the way she made him think and feel. And it was distinctly unsettling.

No, she was best set to one side and avoided. Too much at stake, too hard. Too daunting and demanding. Repressing a small pang, he tossed out her card.

He decided to organize some assignments that would take him out of the office, but then the memory of his recent meeting with Morgan rang in his mind. Damn it, he was expected to be on hand to play macho man for old man Hillcrest. How was he supposed to resist having his way with Claire when he was supposed to be her associate editor?

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, catching sight of himself in the mirror as he paced. He paused, leaned in to look himself in the eye. Could he trust himself to work side by side with Claire and not give in to the impulse to touch her?