Chapter Two
Chapter Two
What on earth Olympia thought she was doing at this precise moment in time she had no idea. Twenty minutes ago she’d been trying to keep the Sheikh on the subject of investment and off dinner, while simultaneously wondering how much more of this she was going to have to endure. She was, of course, honoured to be representing Stanhope Bank at the conference this week, and would be eternally grateful that Zander had given her the chance to turn her car crash of a life around, but all this schmoozing was exhausting.
She’d been at it for six months now. Initially, she’d totally understood where her brother had been coming from when he’d told her that she needed to build up trust before she could start managing the funds their uber wealthy clients invested in. After a decade of generating headlines that went along the lines of Olympia screws up Olympically , she was well aware that that her scandalous reputation meant she had a lot to prove. Even if she hadn’t read the incredulous press reports about her appointment, she would have known that her well-publicised stint in rehab didn’t exactly inspire confidence. So she’d been only too happy to show Zander that she could be relied upon in whichever way he deemed fit. And if that meant using her outgoing personality and her notoriety to drum up new business, then that was all right with her.
Such had been her determination to succeed that she’d smashed the target he’d set for her first year in a quarter of the time. Since then, on a roll, she’d doubled the number of investors she’d lured to the bank. She was more than ready to step up and take on the fund management position she’d been after ever since unexpectedly catching the finance bug in rehab. She was champing at the bit to get started.
But frustratingly, Zander still seemed to have doubts about her suitability for the job, about how her reliability and trustworthiness were still publicly perceived, which was why she’d targeted the Sheikh this evening. A richer, higher-profile investor would be impossible to find. Should she manage to lure him to Stanhope’s, her brother could not fail to recognise her talents and reward them. What more could she do to prove her dedication and persistence?
Of course, she hadn’t considered the possibility of Alex bloody Andino showing up and putting a spanner in the works. But then why would she? They’d never crossed swords before, which had always been completely fine with her. She’d had no desire to seek him out any more than he had her. She could still feel the sting of his slight when she’d tried to introduce herself. The stunned disbelief that he had so rudely ignored her outstretched hand and stalked off, leaving her standing there—red-faced, smarting and feeling like a fool—had taken weeks to fade.
What was his problem? she’d wondered pretty much ever since. Everyone liked her. She made sure of it. So the fact that he very much didn’t had stuck to her like a burr. That he had found her resistible—or so she’d thought—had sorely piqued her vanity.
But that hadn’t crushed the desire that had struck her like a sledgehammer that evening, as she’d briefly stood before him, her gaze locked to his for that one charged moment. Which was pretty galling, but unfortunately, attraction didn’t care how he felt about her, or his rudeness. All that had been able to focus on was the darkly masculine perfection of his features. The deep brown eyes and the straight blade of a nose. The chiselled jaw and the sensuous mouth that invariably tightened whenever their gazes collided.
Nor, unfortunately, had it lessened over time. This evening, when he’d barged into her conversation with his towering height, powerful physique and shoulders as broad as the Aegean, she’d almost swooned. She’d forgotten how incredible he smelled. How weak her knees went at the spicy, woody notes of his seductive scent, which tugged at something deep inside her, making her want to get all up close and personal.
But by focusing on her outrage, which had fuelled through her when she’d realised what he was up to, she’d kept it together. She’d fought her corner and had had surprising fun doing so. Because, while he’d clearly expected her to crumple in the face of his displeasure and back off as he demanded, in fact, his antipathy had had the opposite effect. In response to the great waves of tension he radiated, and the forbidding stoniness of his expression, the devil in her had stirred. The prospect of locking horns with him had thrilled her. She’d felt more exhilarated, more alive than she had in a year, and very much up for the fight.
And then, having clocked the crackle of electricity that zigzagged between them—and the trouble he had keeping his gaze off her mouth when she’d deliberately touched her tongue to her lips to confirm her suspicions—she’d realised what the past six months’ antagonism had really been about, and her outrage had drained away. In its place had flooded hot heady desire that begged to be satisfied. The more he’d denied it the more determined she’d been to prove it, to find out how explosive the chemistry that sizzled between them might be, how good they could make each other feel if they unleashed it.
But God, he was a hard nut to crack. Even now, with time and the world at a standstill, her bold challenge hanging between them, he still resisted—even though the hammering of her pulse beneath his fingers had to reveal the effect he had on her.
Excitement was thundering through her. With mere centimetres separating them, he dominated her senses. His eyes blazed and his heat enveloped her. His scent was scrambling her brain, his touch sending tingles down her arm, and all she wanted was his mouth on hers and his hands exploring her body. To experience the electrifying passion that she’d missed since reining in the wilder side of her character.
So maybe, because of the recklessness that was turning the blood in her veins to fire, she ought to shake herself free and step away. The mindfulness techniques she’d learned in rehab to ride out any disruption that might set back her recovery—any disruption to her composure at all, in fact—were so ingrained she could recall them at the drop of a hat, and she probably should. Besides, some sixth sense warned her that prodding this particular beast might not be wise.
But she wanted Alex’s surrender more. She wanted to punish him for what he’d done back there in the ballroom. To finally win this battle of attrition he’d started. She longed to find out what would happen when his resistance cracked. So she deliberately lowered her gaze to his mouth and let it linger. She drew in a slow deep breath, which brought her aching breasts into contact with the solid wall of his chest, and held it.
For the longest time he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t seem to be breathing either. And it was just beginning to occur to her that sickeningly, mortifyingly , maybe she’d got it all wrong and he didn’t want her, when suddenly he moved. In the blink of an eye she was up against the wall, the air whooshing from her lungs. His head descended, blotting out the light, the stairwell, everything but him, and his mouth slammed down on hers.
Pinning her there with his big hard body, he took advantage of her parted lips to possess her in a kiss that was hot and ferocious, no doubt designed to establish his dominance and demonstrate that he was a dangerous man to trifle with. He instantly released her wrist to bury his hand in her hair, angling her head to increase the intensity with which he plundered her mouth, as if he didn’t want to just burn her but brand her, as if he were aiming to imprint himself on her memory for ever.
And he was succeeding. She’d never had a kiss like it. Every one of her senses was under siege. Her brain was short-circuiting and her bones were disintegrating. She was losing her mind and her control, so much so that when he lifted his head a moment later and growled, ‘I did warn you. I never bluff. I hope you’ve learned your lesson,’ she actually whimpered in protest.
But if his intention had been to put her off with that punishing but thrilling onslaught it had backfired spectacularly. She wanted more. She wanted everything—danger, dominance, every dark desire he possessed. So he might be loosening his grip on her, making to step away, but he and his clever mouth were going nowhere.
Giddy with need, Olympia surged forwards, threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head back down to hers. Kissing him as fiercely as he’d just kissed her, she arched her back so that every quivering inch of her pressed against every shocked, rigid inch of him.
And then, there it was—the moment his control snapped—and it was as dramatic and exciting as she’d imagined.
His arms whipped around her, crushing her in a tight embrace that she couldn’t have escaped if she’d wanted to, and her body went up in flames. His fingers were in her hair and his scent was in her head and in her blood, intoxicating her to the point of madness. Within seconds she’d become a pounding mass of lust, reduced to making little moans of pleasure at the back of her throat as he ground his pelvis into hers, his rock-hard erection digging into her right where she wanted him most.
He wrenched his mouth from hers to draw in a ragged breath, then set his lips to her neck. As her head fell back to allow him better access, she trembled and gasped. He trailed hot kisses down the sensitive skin of her chest. As he did so, he tugged down the spaghetti straps of her dress. The soft shimmering fabric fell to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to his scorching gaze, and when his mouth closed over her nipple, her knees buckled.
In response to this delicious torment heat poured through her. The need to have him inside her consumed her. Shaking, mad with desire, she shifted to put a sliver of space between their lower bodies. Her hand found their way to the button of his trousers and his zip, moulding to his straining length in a move that she couldn’t begin to claim was accidental.
Alex hissed out a harsh breath and jerked back. He pushed up her dress and, with her help, he yanked her underwear off. She tackled his trousers and shorts, shoving both down while he located his wallet, fished out a condom and rolled it on.
Using the wall for support, he planted his hands on her thighs and lifted her up, parting her legs, stepping between them as he did so. Panting desperately, clinging tightly to his shoulders, Olympia shifted her hips, and on a rough groan he surged into her liquid heat.
He held still for a moment, a stunning moment she used to familiarise herself with the exquisite feel of him, so big and deep inside her that she actually saw stars, and then, as she locked her legs around his waist, pulling him in even further, he began to move.
Their mouths met in a fiery clash of teeth and tongues. He didn’t bother with slow and measured, but struck up a quick intense rhythm that she matched stroke for stroke. With every powerful thrust she lost a little bit more of her mind. The friction of her sensitised breasts against the crisp white cotton of his shirt sent such strong sparks of electricity to her nerve-endings that she thought she was about to combust.
She’d never felt such raw animal passion, such wild abandonment, and she never experienced it in someone else either. There was nothing tender and romantic about what they were doing. It was primal and electric. The fight for completion was instinctive, a mutual goal, a battle which, this time, they would both win. They were volcanically in synch. So much so that when she tore her mouth from his and bit into his jacket-clad shoulder, muffling her cries as she shattered powerfully around him, he buried his head in her neck, thrusting into her one last time, hard and deep, and climaxed so intensely that it detonated another explosion inside her.
For the longest moment, as the blazing pleasure ebbed and the heat cooled, all she could hear was the thundering of her heart and the raggedness of their breathing. She barely had the strength to open her eyes, let alone speak. But she just about managed when he eventually eased out of her and stepped back to set her on her feet.
‘So that was wild,’ she said dazedly, as she tugged her dress into place while he dealt with the condom, then pulled up his shorts and trousers and put himself back together. ‘I thought it might be good, but I had no idea it would be that good. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You nearly blew the top of my head off. Want to find out what we could do in a bed?’
‘No.’
The word shot from him like a bullet from a gun. Olympia stilled. She lifted her gaze to his face. Noting the rigid jaw and blank expression, she felt a tiny shiver of ice-cold apprehension run down her spine, and she frowned. ‘What?’
His dark eyes glittered. Tension rolled off him in great buffeting waves. ‘This shouldn’t have happened,’ he growled. ‘We will never speak of it again.’ And with that, he stalked to the door, yanked it open and vanished.