He started to laugh. Big mistake. It intensified the sensation gripping him, which he had not even fully recognized until this moment. Oh God, no.
He was fighting not to cry. Noah Gallagher, CEO and owner of Angel Enterprises, ice-cold ex-thief and con man, hyper-trained, tech and bio-enhanced commando warrior, captain of a secret army of fugitive freaks, veteran of bloody battles, on the verge of crying. About what?
He hated not knowing. Hated losing control.
He pushed his chair back, rummaged in his desk for the envelope he’d prepared, and stood up, holding it out. “Take it. Go. It’s not you. I have no idea what . . .” He cut himself off and tried to swallow. “Just go.”
She just stood there in the midst of her cloud of colors. Reached out to take it. His altered vision made the white envelope seem to glow like the moon in her hand.
He realized, abruptly, that he couldn’t be with someone like her anyway. His wiring wouldn’t sustain that kind of voltage. She’d drive him over the edge.
And it wasn’t like he had that far to go.
He went to the closet. Fumbled with the panel and pulled out her coat. “I’ll be gone when you come out, so I’ll say goodbye now. Thanks for the dance.” He held out the coat. “So, ah. Whenever you’re ready.”
She wasn’t ready. She just looked down at the envelope. Puzzlement colored the space around her head. She wanted to know what the fuck his problem was.
He cleared his throat. “Please,” he muttered.
She laid the envelope back on the desk. “So, it didn’t work?”
He was confused. “What?”
“Your experiment. The good feeling you had this afternoon. You didn’t have it this time around? That’s too bad. I’m really sorry, considering what you paid.”
He almost laughed but stopped just in time. “No, actually. It worked too well.”
“Ah. Too real,” she murmured. “I know how that is.”
He doubted it, but didn’t want to discuss it. “You need to go now.”
She rose up taller, or rather, her sig rose and expanded, filling the room with its shimmering glow. “Why?” she asked. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t care if he wanted to talk about it or not. Tough shit for him, her body language said. Spill it anyway.
“Look,” he said. “I promised not to touch you. I can’t keep that promise anymore.”
She drifted closer, a cloud of sunset colors. Her scent washed over his senses. His supercharged synesthesia translated her aroma into colors in his head. He wanted to strip her bare. His hands flexed with the impulse to seize her. It almost overcame him.
“Leave.” His voice was tight. “I paid you.”
“No,” she said.
“You finished your dance. You said there could be nothing more. So go.”
“Shhh.” She stretched up, touching his cheek with soft, cool fingertips. Then, to his astonishment, she pressed a hot, soft kiss to his jaw.
“This is not helping,” he growled.
She rose up on her bare feet, her mouth near his. Never quite getting there. No kiss . . . just the caressing heat of her breath. The teasing promise of . . . maybe . . . almost.
He was so close to losing control, he didn’t dare inhale.
He stepped back. Not far enough. The sweetness of her perfume taunted him.
She didn’t move. Not one inch. She was enjoying this, feeling her power. It made his teeth grind, and his dick ache.
“You’re still here,” he said.
“I’m not ready to leave.” Her voice was a drifting whisper. “I like the way this makes me feel.”
“I’m ready,” he said. “And it’s my goddamn office.”
“Yes. After hours. And we’re alone. More or less.” She closed the slight distance between them with a single step.
So she was seducing him. He got the message—but he still didn’t dare breathe.
Then she took his hand, and pressed it against her bare belly.
They both inhaled sharply. She was flower-petal smooth against the hard, callused skin of his palm. A flash of hot lust pumped through him.
A swift, shocked ripple went through her, as if she’d had a small orgasm, and then her hand fastened over his, holding it firmly in place. As if she welcomed the touch but didn’t dare allow his hand to wander elsewhere.
“Take the envelope,” he said. “Put it in your bag, and we’re square.”
Her fingers tightened on his hand.
“I asked for a service, you provided it, I paid you,” he said stubbornly. All business. Meeting over. Too bad his dick didn’t get the memo. He was about to explode.
Without saying a word, she turned and headed to the bathroom, purple veils fluttering behind her.
He didn’t have to wait for her to return. But he knew that he would.
She was back minutes later, wearing jeans and a baggy black T-shirt. His exotic dancing maiden was gone but she was as beautiful as ever. Her real hair was a thick, curly dark cloud, caught up in back in a tousled knot of twisted ringlets. Some of them dangled around her face.