Hard, lean, muscled. A gleaming predator. He moved gracefully, masterfully playing her body like a finely tuned instrument.
She clutched at his neck as he lowered her to the bed.
“You have entirely too many clothes on,” he murmured as he shoved her shirt up and over her head.
She knew they should stop. They needed to talk, but she’d missed him. Ached for him. And maybe a part of her wanted this moment before things changed irrevocably.
He released her bra, and she gasped when his fingers found her highly sensitized nipples. They were darker now, and she wondered if he’d notice.
“Did you miss me?”
“You know I did,” she said breathlessly.
“I like to hear you say it.”
“I missed you,” she said, a smile curving her lips.
It shouldn’t have surprised her that he made quick work of her clothing. He tossed her jeans across the room. Her bra went one way, her underwear the other. Then he was over her, on her, deep inside her.
She arched into him as he possessed her, clinging to him as he made love to her, their passion hot and aching. It was always like this. One step from desperation, their need for each other all consuming.
As he gathered her in his arms, he whispered to her in Greek. The words fell against her skin like a caress as they both reached their peaks. She snuggled into his body, content and sated.
She must have slept then, because when she opened her eyes, Chrysander was lying beside her, his arm thrown possessively over her hip. He regarded her lazily, his golden eyes burning with sated contentment.
Now was the time. She needed to broach the subject. There would never be a better occasion. Why did the thought of asking him about their relationship strike terror in her heart?
“Chrysander,” she began softly.
“What is it?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. Had he heard the worry in her voice?
“I wanted to talk to you.”
He stretched his big body and pulled slightly away so he could see her better. The sheet slid down to his hip and gathered there. She felt vulnerable and exposed and trembled when he slid his hand over the peak of one breast.
“What is it you want to talk about?”
“Us,” she said simply.
His eyes grew wary and then became shuttered. His face locked into a mask of indifference, one that frightened her. She could feel him pulling away, mentally withdrawing from her.
A buzz sounded, startling her. Chrysander cursed under his breath and reached over to push the intercom.
“What,” he demanded tersely.
“It’s Roslyn. Can I come up?”
Marley stiffened at the sound of his personal assistant’s voice. It was late in the evening and yet here she was, popping into the apartment she knew he shared with Marley.
“I’m very busy at the moment, Roslyn. Surely it can wait until I come into the office tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but it can’t. I need your signature on a contract that’s due by 7:00 a.m.”
Again Chrysander swore. “Come then.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He strode toward the polished mahogany wardrobe and pulled out slacks and a shirt.
“Why does she show up here so often?” Marley asked quietly.
Chrysander shot her a look of surprise. “She’s my assistant. It’s her job to keep up with me.”
“At your personal residence?”
He shook his head as he buttoned up his shirt. “I’ll return in a moment, and we can have our talk.”