“I said this wasn’t happening.” Her chest heaved as she spoke, lips swollen from his kisses.
If his erection weren’t so painful, Rome might have laughed at the situation. Never before had he watched a woman literally run from him. And not for one minute did he think it was because she didn’t want him. No, this was about something else. It was about why Kalina Harper was really here in his office.
“But you want it to happen?”
“No,” she answered quickly. Too quickly.
Damn him for being so sexy, for having an appeal that any woman in her right mind would be drawn to. And damn herself for losing control of the situation. This wasn’t like her. She’d never, ever gone this far with a man she’d just met. And on a desk in an office building no less. Okay, she’d berate herself about her momentary lapse of judgment later. For now, she needed to get out of this office and away from this man. Or everything she’d ever worked for would come crashing down around her.
“Are you sure?” His voice was low, deep as he stood on the other side of his desk, his hand gripping the most delectable arousal she’d ever seen.
Her gaze rested there, her mouth watering. Shaking her head, she focused once again on his face, on her job. Reaching over to the desk, she picked up her purse, felt safety in the weight of the gun she carried there. Unfortunately, Roman now had a weapon of his own. One he was currently stroking, fingers gliding over the smooth dark tip, enticing her, inviting her.
“What are you doing here if you don’t want this?” he asked seductively. He knew she was watching him stroke himself, knew some part of her was enjoying it.
Damn him.
Kalina cleared her throat. “Like I told you, there was an email I wanted to send before leaving the office. I should have gone back to my desk but I was on this floor dropping off some other paperwork and I thought you were gone for the day. Coming in here seemed more convenient. I guess I was wrong.”
He didn’t speak, just kept his hot gaze fixed on hers, his hand still stroking his length. Her center clenched, dripped with essence, and practically begged her for release. She stood strong, or as strong as humanly possible under the circumstances.
“I’m leaving now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“It won’t stop until you slake the need, Kalina.” He was still watching her as he tucked himself back into his pants. “You’re going to want me until you have me.”
“You’re an arrogant SOB!” She tossed the words at him on instinct. He was exactly that, but he was also technically her boss and the subject of her investigation.
She really needed to get out of here before she had no job on either front.
“I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused by entering your office without permission,” she said, turning to walk toward the door.
The minute her hand was on the knob he spoke again.
“I could still fire you.”
She looked over her shoulder, bravado she didn’t really feel sounding in her voice. “And I can bury your ass in the biggest sexual harassment suit of the year. Then where would you be, Mr. Lethal Litigator?”
He didn’t answer. She knew he wouldn’t. Roman Reynolds liked to play hard, he liked to assess his situation and then go in for the kill. She wasn’t giving him the opportunity to do any of the above. At least not tonight.
He was right, he could fire her. And she was right, she could sue the pants off him—no pun intended—and his firm. But as she closed the office door behind her she had a feeling neither of them would take those actions.
Whatever it was that had just happened between them was too big for that.
Kalina had a love–hate relationship with the rain. And the dark. And being alone.
She sounded like a basket case moving to the window seat in her bedroom looking out into the night with a sigh. Her apartment was empty save for furniture and the few mementos she’d allowed herself to collect. There was no one there to welcome her home, no husband, no significant other. Not even a pet.
Every day it was the same.
No, tonight was different.
She’d gone to the precinct the moment she left the office. It was against protocol, she knew. Her routine needed to remain the same in case anybody was watching her. She should never go to the precinct unless called from undercover by her superior officer. But she needed it, her mind needed the one thing that remained constant in her life. The one thing that mattered. Work.
Roman Reynolds had touched her. He’d kissed her and she’d kissed him back, wantonly. The heat exchanged between them was unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life and for the first time in a really long time Kalina was unnerved.
Her job was to investigate him, to find out what he was doing and bring him down. Not crawl all over his desk, getting hot and steamy with the man. Slapping a palm to her forehead, she allowed another moment of disgust. This wasn’t a pity party she was indulging in this time, it was a reprimand. One she fully deserved from her superior but wouldn’t get because she hadn’t mentioned this new development to him. While she wanted the safety net of work, her mind really wasn’t on the case she needed to build.
It was on the man.
He’d caught her trying to break into his computer and instead of tossing her ass out, firing her, and/or pressing charges, he’d kissed her.
And what a kiss it had been. Words could not describe … it was beyond sensual, more than erotic, a step past intoxicating. She wanted more. Her body had practically begged for it. The strength with which he’d grabbed her leg, wrapping it around him, still had her center pulsating. The warm-shower-and-vibrator-assisted release she’d indulged in the moment she arrived home wasn’t nearly enough.
How long had it been since she’d felt the touch of a man, welcomed it, in fact? A little more than two years. About a month before the attack. She’d told her shrink that she was okay with it, that the violation that piece of crap had imposed on her wasn’t that big a deal. She’d survived. And yet, she really hadn’t. Because as much as she enjoyed sexual release, the thought of another man touching her intimately had made her sick. The mere consideration over the past few months would send her into a panic attack that should have had her on medication. Had she dared to ever tell anyone about it.
Instead she’d stocked up on sexual toys and movies that would give her everything she needed without the physical presence of a man. The dark haunting of a memory.
Until tonight. Until Roman Reynolds.
Her apartment was minutes away from his office, on the top floor of a corner brownstone. The front entrance had a wrought-iron gate and matching screened door that wasn’t locked. The mailbox showed her name and apartment number. The steps leading up to her were unguarded as he walked up slowly, predatorily.
A black door with a shiny gold number two on it was all that stood between him and her. Placing his palms on the door, Rome rested his forehead against it, inhaling deeply, painfully.
He wanted her.
There was no doubt about that and no real concern. Sex was sex and with Rome it was good sex. He’d been told that before, wore the honor like a soldier’s Purple Heart. But this was different. He was smart enough to know and to admit that this wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t a normal urge. His blood heated, coursed through his veins like a raging stream at the proximity to her.
Not only had he picked up her scent the moment he’d crossed the threshold to the building, but he sensed her physically as if she now occupied a small space within him. She was here, just beyond this door. He could knock and she’d let him in. They would sleep together, no doubt about it. The sex would be wild, dangerous, alluring, just like their kiss. But what else?