Inevitable. Michelle Rowen

that need inside of her to an uncontrollable level.

      Just because it was inconvenient didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

      Ryan looked concerned. “Emma, we need to—”

      “Shut up.” She took his face between her hands to pull him closer and crushed her mouth against his.

      3

      EMMA BLACK, a woman who proclaimed to hate his guts, was kissing him more passionately than he’d ever been kissed. He could feel her desire like it was a palpable thing. It sank into him, making his cock harder than it had ever been a day in his life.

      Ryan filled his hands with her thick, silky red hair, letting it slide through his fingers. Her grip tightened on him, pulling him even closer to her.

      He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her in the middle of the party earlier, rescuing him from some random socialite who’d wanted to get into his pants. His desire for Emma had been immediate—at least, after he’d gotten over his initial shock at seeing her again after all this time. The potion simply took that desire and increased it to a level that was impossible to ignore.

      He’d sought her out, hoping to talk to her, to tell her the truth—that he’d been set up, that he wasn’t a thief and had been wrongfully fired—and see if that made any difference to her. See if she believed him.

      He’d wanted her to believe him.

      When he’d seen that horny old bastard pawing her, his blood began to boil. If Franklin had been thirty years younger, he might have received more than a glare and a lie about being Emma’s fiancé.

      “You taste like champagne,” he whispered against her lips when she pulled back an inch, her breath coming fast and deep.

      “I had a glass earlier.”

      “You taste so good.”

      “So do you.”

      Emma slid her hands down the front of his shirt, over his chest to his abdomen. Her touch felt like fire. He saw the same aching desire he felt reflected in her eyes.

      Proof.

      The proof he needed that she didn’t hate him. This was it.

      Franklin said the potion didn’t work for him. Likely he’d tried it on many women, hoping they’d throw themselves into his arms and bed. Dirty old man.

      But the Desidero potion didn’t work like that.

      It didn’t make Guinevere desire King Arthur. Instead, she fell hard for Lancelot. It meant that she’d wanted the knight over the king all along, but had resisted due to her situation.

      Once the potion worked its special magic, she’d had no choice but to give in to her true desires. The potion simply acted as a push against any control its victim might have.

      If Emma had truly hated Ryan—or even if she’d been indifferent to him as she claimed—the potion wouldn’t work at all.

      Emma wanted him as Guinevere had wanted Lancelot.

      And King Arthur had been sent packing.

      “Do you feel it?” he asked.

      “Feel it?” She slid her hand down over the front of his pants where his erection strained and she grinned wickedly at him. “I think so.”

      He groaned and swore darkly under his breath. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

      “Yes, I feel the potion’s effects. No doubt about it.”

      “You want me.”

      She brushed her lips over his throat. “I hate you.”

      He couldn’t help but smile at the obvious lie. She didn’t hate him. She might wish she did, but she didn’t. “So you don’t want me.”

      She took his face between her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. “What I want is to feel you inside of me.”

      He inhaled sharply as she slid her hand down over his cock again. “You have a definite way with words, Em.”

      “I’ve been told that before.”

      Any amusement on his part disappeared as she unzipped him with deft hands and reached inside his fly to wrap her fingers around his hard length. He groaned.

      “Sit down.” She pushed him backward until he bumped into the couch behind him. He sat down hard.

      “If you insist.” He reached for her, wanting to pull the straps of her dress down over her shoulders and bare her breasts to his touch, his mouth, but she slipped out of his reach, instead sinking down to the floor in front of him.

      He eyed the closed but not locked door. “Emma…we should leave, go somewhere else—somewhere private. We shouldn’t do this here—”

      But he couldn’t speak any more when she took him into her mouth. He arched his back, the intense pleasure crashing over him, almost too much to bear. He had to struggle to find some semblance of control or he feared he would explode right then and there. His hands shook as he pushed the vibrant red hair off her forehead so he could see her face, watch her lush, pink lips slide down onto him. Her mouth was so hot and wet—he couldn’t speak, couldn’t think…he could only feel…

      Finally, he was able to gather himself enough to moan her name. “Emma…please…” He pulled at her and suddenly her lips were on his again, hard and hot, devouring him with the kiss that held so much passion it was as if she were starving. She crawled onto his lap to straddle him.

      His hands sought her full breasts, squeezing them through the top of her dress and running his hands down her sides, over her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and slipping under her skirt toward her sex. She wore panties, but they were a very flimsy barrier. Pushing them to the side, he was able to slide his fingers against the slickness of her, which earned him a shuddery breath and a moan of encouragement.

      Ryan shifted a little, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock which he rubbed against her. She was so wet for him, so ready. He had to be inside of her. He would go insane if he didn’t take her here, now. He’d never wanted anyone as much as this. The potion had made it impossible to deny what he’d always wanted.

      Emma.

      “Yes,” she moaned. “Please, Ryan…”

      “You want me.”

      “Yes.”

      “Even though you think you hate me.”

      “Yes!”

      When he was perfectly positioned to enter her with one upward thrust, he heard the sound.

      Knocking.

      “Is somebody in there?” the voice asked from the other side of the door.

      Then there was the sound of the knob turning.

      The very next moment, Emma had pulled away from him, scrambling back as if she’d just been hit in the face with a glass of ice cold water. She stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and hurriedly pulled the straps of her dress back up into place.

      “This was a horrible mistake,” she said, finally averting her eyes.

      Then she was gone, grabbing her purse and scurrying out of the room as if the fire alarm had gone off. She passed a couple at the door who wore matching purple masks. Ryan had the chance to tuck himself away and zip up before their attention moved to him.

      “Did we interrupt something?” the man asked.

      “Yes,” he growled, when what he really wanted to do was get up and throttle the both of them.

      They looked at each other before closing the door behind them, leaving him in the library alone.

      His first inclination was to chase after Emma and talk