His Brand Of Passion. Кейт Хьюит
have no idea what I’m capable of.’
‘Actually, based on your behaviour so far, I think I have a fairly good idea of the level of boorishness you’re willing to sink to,’ she replied. ‘But even you, I believe, would draw the line at mauling the maid of honour in the middle of a wedding reception.’
Aaron stared at her for a few seconds, his gaze flicking over her face, seeming to assess her. His face had turned blank, expressionless, which made Zoe uneasy. She couldn’t read him at all. Then he shrugged and turned back to his meal. ‘Fine,’ he said, and he sounded completely bored, utterly dismissive. ‘Give it back to me in a couple of hours.’
Zoe sat there, the phone hot and a little sweaty against her chest, and felt weirdly deflated. She’d enjoyed sparring with him, she realised. It had been invigorating and, yes, a tiny bit flirtatious. But, based on the way Aaron was now focused completely on his salad, she was now the furthest thing from his thoughts. Well, she thought with a sigh, wriggling a little to make herself a bit more comfortable with a phone inside her dress, at least she’d taught him a lesson.
Aaron knew about patience. It was a lesson he’d learned from childhood, when his father would summon him to his study only to make him wait standing by the door for an hour or more, while he concluded some trivial piece of business.
It was a lesson he’d needed, for it had taken patience to rebuild Bryant Enterprises from the ground up when his father had left it to him fifteen years ago, utterly bankrupt.
It was a lesson he would use now, for he knew it was only a matter of time before he found an opportunity to corner Zoe and get his phone back.
He had to admire her bravado and tenacity, even if the whole exercise annoyed the hell out of him. She was different from most women he knew, utterly uninterested in impressing him. In fact, she seemed to want the opposite: to aggravate him. Well, it was working.
An hour into the festivities Zoe excused herself from the table. Aaron watched her head to the ladies’ room with narrowed eyes. He waited a few seconds before he excused himself and followed her out of the ballroom.
The ladies’ room was one of those ridiculously feminine boudoirs, complete with spindly little chairs and embroidered tissue boxes. Aaron slipped inside and put a finger to his lips when an elderly matron applying some garishly bright coral lipstick stared at him in shock.
‘I want to surprise my girlfriend,’ he whispered, and then mimed getting down on one knee as if in a marriage proposal. The woman’s face suffused with colour to match her mouth and she bobbed her head in understanding before hurrying outside.
He was alone with Zoe.
He heard the toilet flush and stepped back so she couldn’t see him as she came out of the stall. He watched as she moved to the sink and washed her hands, humming under her breath. He took the opportunity to admire her figure, skinny though it was. She had some nice curves, highlighted by how they were encased in tight pink silk. A very nice bottom, as a matter of fact, and long, lean legs. He didn’t usually pay attention to the backside of a woman, but standing behind Zoe he found his gaze riveted—and his body responding in the most elemental way.
Then she looked up, and her eyes widened as she caught sight of him in the mirror just a few feet behind her, lurking like a dark shadow.
‘Hello, Zoe.’
She turned around slowly, drying her hands. ‘This is the ladies’ room, you know,’ she remarked, and to her credit she sounded as light and wry as ever.
‘I know.’
‘What are you doing here?’
He took a step towards her and was gratified to see her eyes widen a little more. She should be afraid of him. Or, if not afraid, then at least a little wary. ‘What do you think I’m doing here? I want my phone.’
She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Sorry, Bryant. You’ll have to wait until the reception is over.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Her lips parted and he saw something flare in her eyes. Fear? No, it was excitement. He felt it himself, a surprising little pulse of anticipation. She was so not his type, and yet in that moment he knew he was quite looking forward to putting his hand down her dress.
‘And how,’ she asked, her voice turning husky, ‘do you think you’re going to get it back?’
‘Quite easily.’ He took another step towards her, so she was pressed against the sink, her head angled up towards him. She didn’t move, didn’t even try to escape him. Was she wondering if he’d dare do it? Or did she want him to? As much as he did, perhaps.
His gaze fastened on hers, and something pulsed and blazed between them. Aaron felt it, felt the very air seem to tauten around them, crackle with the sudden, electric energy they had created. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and slid a few fingers down the bodice of her dress. Her skin was silky and warm, the sides of her breasts brushing his fingers. Zoe gasped aloud. Aaron smiled even as desire arrowed through him. ‘Quite a tight fit.’
‘Quite,’ she managed.
With the tip of his fingers he could just touch his phone, but there was no way he could actually get it. Not without unzipping the dress completely…which was a possibility. Anything felt possible right now.
‘You are outrageous,’ Zoe gasped, and Aaron chuckled softly.
‘I’m not the one who started this, sweetheart.’
‘Yes, you did. When you texted—’
He was stroking the sides of her breasts with his fingers in an attempt to reach the phone and Aaron knew that neither of them was immune. He saw Zoe’s pupils dilate with desire and felt himself harden even more.
He slid his hand lower.
‘You’re not going to get it,’ Zoe said breathlessly, and Aaron arched an eyebrow.
‘One way or another, I’ll get it.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she answered, her tone mocking his perfectly. He almost laughed. His fingertip brushed the phone and then, to his annoyance, the damn thing slid lower so it was resting against her stomach. There was no way he could get it now.
Unless…
‘Don’t you dare,’ Zoe whispered and Aaron smiled.
‘I think this whole encounter is about daring, don’t you?’ He removed his hand from her dress, allowing his fingers to stroke her soft, small breasts on the way up. Zoe stared at him, pupils still dilated, lips parted, her breath coming in little pants.
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘Want to bet?’
And, with his gaze still hard on hers, he put his hand up under her skirt.
Zoe stood rigid, unable to believe Aaron Bryant had just put his hand up her dress. And he’d already put it down her dress. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire from those few, calculated little touches. She was hopeless. Hopelessly attracted to this arrogant ass of a man.
So much so that she didn’t even move as his hand slid up her thigh, his fingers warm and seeking on her bare flesh. His gaze was riveted on hers, and she knew, no matter how angry or determined he was, he felt something for her. She could feel the attraction between them, heavy and thick. His hand slid higher, smoothing along her hip before he finally found the phone with his fingers and tugged it down. And she hadn’t resisted at all, not even the tiniest bit.
‘I can’t believe you,’ she whispered and he smiled.
‘Believe it.’ He slid his hand lower to the juncture of her thighs, the phone in his palm. Zoe’s breath came out in a devastated rush as he pressed his hand against her, the phone still in it, cool against her heated and tender flesh. Sensation sizzled straight through her and she sagged against the