"I'm doing things your way. I'm getting dressed to have dinner with your family because you pressured me into it. I stayed back a week from work because you ordered it." Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm not used to people telling me what to do here, so I suggest you tread lightly."
She rose from the vanity stool and had to steel herself against the sudden dizzy spell and prayed silently that now would not be the time her stomach chose to let her down. Or she would not be winning this fight.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "You still look out of it."
To her relief he turned away to go and get her jacket. He had also been trying to talk her into living with him. To which she had said a definite no.
"I feel fine."
"I can always fire you." It was said in such a mild tone, one could believe that he was joking. She knew better.
"I don't work for you."
"Technically, you do. Kostas Princess is ours."
Dragging her jacket away, she went to grab her purse. "And if you try and use your influence to make things difficult for me, you'll regret it," she warned.
"What would you do?" he asked in that same annoyingly reasonable tone, setting her teeth on edge. "Run away?"
She sent him a pulverizing look over one shoulder. "I don't run."
"Good. Because I would just chase you down and lock you up." He clamped his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. She was magnificent in her anger, he thought in admiration. And stubborn as hell.
But he was making some sort of breakthrough. She was finally agreeing to have dinner with his family, which was a very good sign. He had the idea that if she could see herself in a setting likethat, surrounded by loving people, she would start to realize that there was more to life than her painful upbringing.
And he was patient enough to go through all the layers.
"All right." His fingers bit into her shoulders when she tried to move. "You win. But..." His face turned to stone, the determined jutting of his chin warning her just how serious he was. "You will pace yourself. You have an assistant for a reason. And one word that you're in any sort of discomfort or you're doing too much and you're off the ship. Am I clear?"
She gave him a stony look that had him meeting it with one of his own.
"You think you own me now?"
"Do you want to be owned?" He was using the same annoyingly reasonable tone that was just pissing her off even more. And he knew it. Damn him to hell. She could see the amusement glinting in his eyes.
"Let go of me."
"Now darling," he drew her inexorably closer, one hand clamped at her neck, fingers toying with the silky hair there. She had left it loose, much to his pleasure and the strands were glowing with life. "You don't want to arrive at my family's place all hot and bothered under the collar. We want to present a united front."
In one smooth move, he managed to avoid her fists by hauling her up against him. "My mother will want to get to the bottom of it and what would we say to her?"
"It's none of her damn..." The rest was swallowed by his mouth. She resisted, a token resistance of course, because the second she felt his breath on her lips, she was lost. With a murmur deep in her throat, she curled her fingers into the thick material of his sweater and surrendered.
He had meant the kiss to be light, teasing, a way of cutting off her words and quelling her temper. He should have known it was never that simple or easy between them. The kiss took on the familiar madness.
Her scent surrounded him, took him over completely. The sweetness of her breath stirred him to madness. The insanity was inside him, making him weak with need.
His hand drifted restlessly from the back of her neck to the curve of her back until he was molding her to him. He knew thevery instant she felt his arousal. Her gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he deepened the kiss.
It was getting away from him; he could feel it. All he wanted to do was carry her back to bed and spend the afternoon losing himself in her. The desire was so sharp, so intense, it felt as if his body was being seared through, cutting to the bone.
It took almost superhuman effort and the thought at the back of his head of his mother's voice reminding him that supper was at seven.
Dragging his mouth from hers, he gulped in several deep breaths.
"We have to stop." His voice was harsh, his face taut with passion. "As much as I would love to spend the time exploring your body, we have to go."
Reason surfaced quickly and so did the mortification and helplessness she always felt when he touched her.
