Hot Boss, Wicked Nights. Anne Oliver

fused with hers, his breath a hot rasp against her cheek. ‘You’re sure?’

      She felt imprisoned, helpless, trapped.

      She’d never felt more alive, more free, more ready to take that chance. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Wait— Protection…’ He reached into his pocket.

      ‘Ah…’ Her fumbling fingers located the tiny organza bag tucked into her waistband. ‘I happen to have…’ She pulled out the packet and held it aloft with a grin of triumph.

      ‘Ingenious,’ he murmured, regarding her intently as if wondering how many more she had stashed there before taking it from her and quickly sheathing himself.

      The thought flickered through her mind to tell him she didn’t usually have a ready supply, but she figured a girl of the world like Shakira might. She didn’t need to explain herself to him—this was literally a one-night stand. Except that her feet weren’t touching the floor at all and her toes were curling up in anticipation.

      He guided himself inside her. He was big—huge—and she felt tight, stretched, invaded, but she pushed down on him with a gasp of satisfaction.

      He thrust up once, twice, with a power and intensity that left her breathless. She clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of his T-shirt, the little ornaments on her costume tinkling. Her beaded bra strap felt rough against her back as the rhythmic movements increased.

      She was blind and deaf to everything but him. His eyes, the outline of his body in the dimness. The harshness of his breaths as he pushed inside her, the sound of flesh against flesh.

      She came just as she felt him shudder his own climax deep inside her. Oh, good Lord.

      He continued to hold her until their breathing slowed, then she unwound her legs and he lowered her until her feet touched the floor. Her legs were wobbly, her whole body lethargic and limp.

      He palmed one still-exposed breast. ‘Where do you—?’ The buzz of his mobile jarred, cutting him off mid-sentence. ‘I have to take this call,’ he murmured reluctantly, pulling his phone from the deep recesses of his trouser pockets. He lifted it to his ear with one hand while he continued to stroke one breast back and forth with the other. ‘Yes?’

      As she watched his eyes turned remote, the outline of his jaw turned to stone. ‘Where the hell is it, then?’ Abruptly he pulled his hand away, those remote eyes turning hot just for a second as they met hers. ‘Stay right here, I’ll be back.’ Then he crossed the room without a backward glance and opened the door to the bathroom. ‘Okay, contact Dark Vertigo.’ Pause. ‘Forget it, I’ll do it myself…’ The light came on and Kate blinked against the glare before he closed the door behind him.

      In the space of a heartbeat everything changed. Sanity charged back with a vengeance. Leaning against the wall for support, she refastened her veil before he returned and decided to switch on the light, then slid down the cool surface to the floor inch by excruciating inch. She located her sandals and slipped them on. Listened to her pulse beating in her ears, felt its fury in her throat, her nipples, between her thighs.

      What had just happened?

      Casual was what had happened. And thinking about it now was just a tad late. What in heaven’s name had she done? With a man she’d met less than twenty minutes earlier?

      She didn’t even know his name.

      She closed her eyes. Self-preservation and common sense seemed to have deserted her along with the man. A man she’d never see again, she told herself. So blame Shakira, put it safely to one side to think about later.

      Right this minute she had to get out. Go home. Now.

      Moments later she slipped out to the concierge desk, collected her bag and made a swift exit into the crisp night air.

      She texted Sheri-Lee, apologising that she’d had to leave—something unexpected had come up—as she hurried to her car. She’d never done anything so crazy, so irresponsible in her whole thirty years. The breeze chilled any residual heat from her body. She’d always been in an ongoing relationship with a man before they’d made love. A relationship based on mutual respect, honesty and friendship.

      And yet one look from that guy had changed her into someone she didn’t know. A strange sensation wrapped around her and she rubbed the goose-bumps that sprang up on her arms. It was as if she’d given him not only her body but her soul.

      CHAPTER TWO

      DAMON swore silently when he discovered his bedroom empty and the most enchanting creature he’d ever made out with gone. Getting laid on his first night back hadn’t been his intention—he wasn’t normally a man for one-nighters but one look at her and his brain had taken a swift dive below his belt. He’d had to have her.

      He could go back downstairs and see if she was still around, which he doubted. Besides, he never put women before business and he wasn’t going to start now. Presumably that was all she’d wanted or she’d have stuck around for an encore. Pity, but—he shrugged—it wasn’t as if anything could come of it.

      He pulled a beer from the room’s bar fridge and popped the top. Walked to the window and looked down at the business he’d crossed the Pacific to deal with. The travel agency his uncle had left him with its less-than-stellar façade and outdated posters. He shook his head. It was precisely why he’d arrived earlier than scheduled—to get a look at the place ahead of time.

      Instead, he’d looked straight into a pair of soulful dark eyes and been sucked right under…

      Bonita. Her image bloomed in his mind, with her father’s Spanish eyes and her Egyptian mother’s beauty. Was it any wonder he’d been attracted to those same attributes tonight? He took a swig from the bottle but the liquid tasted acrid on his tongue. He’d watched the woman he’d loved die at twenty-four.

      And he’d learned the only way to deal with loss was to cut those people close to him out of his heart. Slapping a decisive palm on the window sill, he set the beer down and headed to the bathroom for a long-overdue shower. To ease travel-cramped muscles and wash away the woman’s lingering scent. No regrets but no reminders. He was in Sydney to put things right for his uncle, the last act he could perform for what he could call family. Then he was gone.

      Thanks to a doozy of a cold, which had hit in the early hours of Sunday morning, Kate was running late for work on Monday—not good when Bryce’s nephew was arriving from heaven knew where tomorrow to look over the business. And the traffic this morning was a nightmare.

      While she could have been at the office ahead of time making sure the man had nothing to find fault with she’d wasted her entire Sunday sleeping. Or trying to. Even with her mobile switched off and the landline off the hook, the memory of another man had kept her from getting the shut-eye she needed.

      Kate Fielding had had a one-night stand.

      A hot and steamy and abbreviated one-night stand. The very idea sent shock waves rocketing through her body. She braked with a squeal of tyres for yet another red light she’d barely noticed. The driver behind leaned on his horn.

      Hell. She wiped her nose, gripped the wheel harder. Adventure man wasn’t good for her health. Thinking about him wasn’t good for her health. What did it matter that he’d put whatever business he was involved in before her? That he was probably like Nick and took his opportunities where he could? She was never going to see him again. She’d enjoyed herself and that was where it ended. That was what casually single was all about, right?

      If she could just convince her still-sensitised body of that.

      By sheer will she forced the images from her mind. Time to concentrate on the more immediate problem. Tomorrow morning she was going to come face to face with a man she already disliked by reputation and she wasn’t going to give him any reason to find fault with her work.

      Her boss’s sudden death three weeks ago at a young forty-three