Behind The Boardroom Door: Savas' Defiant Mistress / Much More Than a Mistress / Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have played it. I—”

“It was meant to be played. That’s what it’s for.” He was much closer now. Practically looming over her, and there was nowhere to go.

“Yes, but you don’t play it,” she protested.

“Because I can’t,” he said simply.

“What?” She stared at him, astonished.

He shrugged. “I never learned. It’s my grandfather’s violin. He played it. Almost as well as you,” he added after a moment, a corner of his mouth tipping up, his tone reflective.

Neely swallowed, still wary, but beginning to realize he wasn’t angry. “Thank you. But I still…should have asked.”

“When? You were never here when I was.” He was sort of smiling now, teasing a little.

She didn’t want to be teased, didn’t want to smile back. Wanted to hang on to her sanity. Definitely needed to resist.

But Sebastian said, “You can play it whenever you want. However much you want. You’re very good.”

“Not very,” Neely said. “You have low standards.”

He shook his head. “I don’t, you know.” He was quite firm about it. And he was barely a foot from her now, definitely looming. Also smiling.

Neely, feeling the force of the smile, sensing the electricity that always seemed in danger of sizzling between them, felt herself melting. She raised her palms, then discovered that the only place to put them was on his shirtfront.

Quickly she let them fall to her sides again, cleared her throat, tried to look for a way to duck around him.

“If you think you ought to give me some recompense, though, I’d understand,” Sebastian went on, his voice almost a soft purr.

“You mean pay for the privilege? I could do that,” Neely said. “It’s a terrific violin. I’ve never played one that good. How much do you want?”

“How about a kiss?”

She jerked back so hard she hit her elbow against the countertop edge behind her and winced. “Ow!”

“Or I could kiss it and make it better,” Sebastian said, reaching for her arm and lifting it, then pressing his lips to her elbow before she even had time to think.

The tingle of the touch of his mouth against her skin sent a shiver all the way up her arm and her spine to the back of her neck.

“For heaven’s sake!” she protested, trying—and failing—to tug her arm away.

But Seb hung on, bending his head over it, giving her more tiny kisses, making her tremble as he worked his way up her arm to her shoulder, her neck, her ear, her jaw.

She made a helpless noise somewhere in the back of her throat—telling herself that she didn’t want this. But every part of her, body and mind was telling her she wanted it very very much indeed. She just didn’t want to pay the price. The price of having her heart broken.

Her body sank back against the line of cupboards below the countertop. And instinctively she braced her other elbow on it while trying to keep her knees from buckling from the effect he was having on her.

The kisses nibbled their way along her jawline as soft strands of his hair brushed against her cheeks, her lips. She breathed in the scent of him—woodsy shampoo with a hint of the sea mixing with something simply Sebastian. If she lived to be a hundred, Neely knew she would never forget it.

And then his lips reached her chin, touched her mouth. His tongue teased its way over her lips, parting them, tasting them—tasting her.

She sighed, reached for him. Clung. And kissed him back, because she was powerless not to. She kept remembering Vangie’s desperation, her words of praise for her brother, her steadfast belief that no matter what the problem, Sebastian would make it right.

And she saw how much he cared for his family.

If he were, through and through, the blackguard she’d first imagined, if he were as icy and indifferent as he’d tried to be, she thought she might have been able to hold out.

But she couldn’t. He even let her play his grandfather’s violin.

She opened her lips to his and hung on and, for the moment at least, let herself enjoy the ride.

One thing Sebastian Savas was extremely good at, one thing at which he positively excelled, was kissing.

Neely couldn’t imagine why she’d ever thought he was cold. Certainly there was nothing cold in the feel of his mouth on hers, nothing icy in the touch of his hands as they slid around her waist and lifted her onto the countertop so he could step up between her knees. And there was absolutely nothing frigid about the way he made her feel.

It was a long kiss, a hungry desperate kiss, and it wreaked havoc with all her earlier determination to resist him.

He wasn’t good for her. He didn’t want what she wanted. But even knowing it, she couldn’t seem to pull away. She could only hang on and savor what was happening between them.

It wasn’t until his fingers slid up beneath her shirt and began to work on the clasp to her bra that she realized more was happening than the simply wonderful drugging taste of him. And she was torn, battling with herself first before she pulled her arms away from his back and pressed them against his shoulders.

“No,” she said raggedly. “Don’t. I don’t want this.”

His fingers stilled for a moment. He drew back enough to look down into her face, his own taut with desire.

“You do,” he said, and his gaze dropped to watch the rise and fall of her breasts, then lifted to look at her lips before he met her eyes again. “You want me. Don’t lie, Neely.”

She swallowed and nodded jerkily. “All right, yes. I want it. But not what will come after. I don’t want what you want!”

“What’s that?”

“Sex.”

“You don’t want sex?” He looked incredulous.

Of course she wanted sex, wanted to make love with him. But his words said it all. Not making love—sex.

“You know what I mean! We already discussed this. It’s why I said no kissing. No one-night stands!”

“I think I can guarantee it will be more than one night,” Seb said with smile.

But Neely’s eyes flashed fire. “Stop it. Stop willfully misunderstanding me. I want love. Maybe that sounds hokey to you. But it’s the way I think, the way I feel, the way I want to live my life. I don’t want just sex. I want a future. I want a relationship that will last.” To love and be loved.

“You know any of those?” Sebastian’s tone was bitter. But he stepped back a bit, put some space between them. His breathing was still ragged. “Max some sort of poster boy for long-term relationships, is he?”