Page 59 of Disavowed

He gave a soft snort. “I already know you didn’t have sex with him.”

“How could you possibly know whether we had sex? Do you have ESP? I had sex with you on the first date, so how do you know I didn’t have it with Jack?”

“I can hear you,” Marjie shouted from the storefront.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” She pushed at Dom’s chest, forcing him to release the armrests, then jumped up and slammed the door shut.

When she turned back he was still seated on the edge of her desk. The corners of his mouth lifted, and it galled her how attracted to him she still was.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Answer the question. How do you know?”

He shrugged. “It’s a guy thing. We can tell when one of our own didn’t get any and contracts a painful case of blue balls. We turn into assholes.”

“There’s a flaw in your theory, Doctor. Last year when you slept with me, you actually got some”—she hooked her fingers into quotation marks as she said the words—“yet you still turned into the biggest asshole I’ve ever seen.”

Even though he was sitting, he was so tall that when she parked her fists on her hips and leaned in, they were practically eye to eye. “What’s the matter, no snappy comeback?”

He moved so quickly it stole her breath. One second she was standing in front of him, and the next…he had her pinned, his hard body pressing hers against the wall, her arms held over her head as he clamped both her wrists in one of his hands.

While she struggled to breathe, her breasts pushed mutinously against his chest. His mouth hovered over hers, skimming her lips, teasing her with the promise of a kiss so hot and passionate she honestly didn’t know what she’d do if he tried.

Still gripping both her wrists in one hand, he slid his free hand down the inside of her arm, her rib cage, and along the outside of her breast. She couldn’t stop the involuntary shiver or the bolt of red-hot need that speared her core. She closed her eyes, dismally aware that her body was betraying her and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

“No snappy comeback,” he whispered, just before his mouth crashed down on hers.

She gasped, inadvertently opening her mouth enough for him to thrust his tongue inside. Instinct had her pushing at his waist, trying to extricate herself, but as his tongue found hers he groaned, and it was the sexiest, most intoxicating sound she’d ever heard.

His erection was long and hard against her belly, waking a yearning she inherently understood Jack never could. Hot, steamy need shot through her blood. She stopped pushing at him, curling her fingers into fists. What am I doing? When his mouth left hers to place a fiery trail of kisses along the sensitive curve of her neck and down the open V-neck of her sweater dress, she abandoned all hope of answering that question.

He bit gently through the taut fabric until her nipples pebbled, then his mouth was on hers again. Now it was her turn to groan as he threaded his fingers through her hair, using his other hand to gently knead her breast.

She dug her nails into his back, finding the fabric of his shirt too much of an impediment. She tugged his shirt up and slid her hands over his ripped abs and around to his thick, flexing back muscles. To her astonishment, he was trembling.

“Daisy, Daisy,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want you so fucking bad.”

More need spiraled to her center, and she had the urge to wrap her legs around his waist and let him have his way with her right there on her desk. If only the knocking in her head would stop.

Knocking. Someone at the door. Shit.

“Daisy?” Marjie giggled from outside the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but someone is here to see you.”

Dom pulled away until there was a scant two inches between their bodies, but even with that distance the heat coming off him was like an out-of-control firestorm, wave after wave of hot flames licking at her. His eyes were hooded and dark, glowing with lust, a grim reminder that that’s all she would ever be to him. A lustful conquest.

A piece of ass.

He didn’t care about her. Not really. The only thing on his mind where she was concerned was getting her naked. She took a deep breath, willing the pounding of her pulse to slow. It didn’t.

For crying out loud. How can I want a man so badly, knowing full well he’s the worst thing for me?

The shift in mood was subtle, but it was there nonetheless. An awareness on his part that the moment was gone. “Be right there,” she said loudly enough to be heard through the door. “Don’t you have work to do?” She’d intended that to be an order, but it had sounded more like a breathy plea.

“You’re right. I do.” He clenched his jaw and stepped back, and for a moment she actually thought she saw pain in the depths of his eyes.

No way. I must be imagining it. A man like him doesn’t feel pain, at least not where women are concerned.

After another deep breath, she went to the door and slipped into the hallway.