She didn’t see him lift his hand. Her cheek quivered under its tender touch, a touch that was only there fleetingly, because fingers were suddenly raking through her hair and his head bent closer and his mouth claimed hers.
Amy completely lost track of what happened after that. The pain in her head was pushed to some far perimeter, her mind filling up with a host of clamouring needs, every one of them chorusing yes to the connection being forged... yes, to the sweet caress of his lips, yes to the seductive slide of his tongue, yes, yes, yes, to the passionate plunder that followed, a wildly exhilarating, intensely evocative reminder of sensations she’d known before with this man... only this man.
She wasn’t aware of moving her body to meet his, of clinging to him, of basking in the heat he generated, the strength emanating from him, surrounding her, cocooning her in a place that felt safe and right. Her whole being was swimming in a sea of bliss, feeling—knowing on some deep subconscious level—this was the answer, the answer to everything.
“Uh-oh...”
Ruth’s voice...intruding, jarring.
“...Slice of Christmas cake for Amy... I’ll just leave it here.”
The pain in Amy’s head crashed through the wall of sensation that had held it at bay. The realisation of what she was doing—what Jake was doing—exploded through her mind This physical compulsion... sexual attraction... didn’t answer anything!
She tore her mouth from his. Her hands were buried in his hair. Her body was plastered against his, his arms, hands, ensuring she was pressed into maximum, intimate contact, and she’d not only allowed it, she was actively clinging, as though he was the only rock that could save her from going under.
Clinging...like’s Steve’s blonde...for whom she’d felt contempt
Such a wretched lack of understanding on her part.
Yet she was appalled at her own weakness.
“It’s the same,” Jake murmured near her ear, his voice furred with satisfaction.
She jerked her head back. Her hands scrambled out of his hair to push at his shoulders, frantic to make some space between them. “You shouldn’t have done this. You agreed!” she cried, her eyes meeting his in agitated, anguished accusation.
“It is out of office hours,” he reminded her in mitigation of the offence. His mouth—his damnably mesmerising mouth—curved into a soft, sensual smile. “And I’d have to confess the temptation to refresh the memory got the better of me.”
The memory...still physically surging between them. Flustered by her own complicity in reviving it, Amy broke his embrace, her hands fluttering wildly over his chest as she forced a step back from him, her eyes begging for release.
“You took advantage.” Blaming him didn’t excuse herself, but she had not invited this. He couldn’t say she had.
“Mmh...” He was not the least bit abashed. The smile still lingered on his lips and the molten gold in his eyes remained warm, twinkling with the pleasure of a desire fulfilled. “Look up, Amy.”
“What?” She was looking up, her gaze trained directly on his, desperately seeking the heart of this man.
“Right above your head is a bunch of mistletoe hanging from the light fitting.”
She looked up. There it was, just as he said.
“A man’s entitled to kiss a woman standing underneath the mistletoe on Christmas day.”
Fun, she thought despairingly. He was having his wicked way with her, out of office hours, just because he wanted to. Never mind how she felt or what it would do to her. Jake, the rake, couldn’t resist an opportunity to satisfy himself. Fury swept through her, a fury fed by fear and frustration.
“You deliberately stopped me here,” she hurled at him, her hands dropping from all contact from him, curling into fists, her whole body bristling with fierce aggression. How dare he touch her in fun! It was monstrous, without care or conscience.
He frowned, perceiving her sense of violation and not liking it. “I’m simply letting you know there’s no reason to be fussed by it, Amy.”
Fussed! It was the most contemptible word he could have used, making light of what he’d done when it wasn’t light at all. Nothing about her situation was light. She hated him in that moment, hated him with a passion.
“That was not a Christmas kiss,” she bit out, her eyes furiously stripping him of any further attempt at levity.
Any trace of a smile was wiped from his face. His eyes suddenly gathered an intense focus, gleaming more yellow than gold. A wolf on the hunt, Amy thought wildly, determined on tracking through anything to get to her.
“No. It was much more,” he quietly agreed.
Her heart squeezed into a tight ball. He was going to close in on her no matter what she said or did. She could feel the power of his purpose, and couldn’t move away from it.
“Don’t you find that curious, Amy?” he asked.
She had no answer. Her mind had seized up on the idea of his being an irresistible force.
“How well we get on now that Steve’s out of the way?” he went on, the words seeming to beat at her in relentless pursuit. “How perfectly we click when we come together?”
Perfectly!
That triggered a rush of hysteria which was impossible to contain. The words bubbled out of her mind and spilled into irretrievable sound.
“Oh, so perfectly I’m pregnant, Jake!”
Her hands flew up in dramatic emphasis.
“How do you like that for perfect?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHOCK!
Amy saw it, felt it reverberating through Jake just as it quaked through her. It was like a live thing, with writhing tentacles, reaching and changing everything. She couldn’t believe she’d done it...set this irrevocable happening in motion without any rational planning for consequences...just blurted it out...here it is...
“Pregnant.”
The word fell from Jake’s lips as though there was too much to take in and he couldn’t quite cope with it.
Amy flapped her hands helplessly. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry... It was that night you came to my apartment and...and I forgot to take the pill after...after you’d gone. I took two the next day but...”
Her voice faltered as she saw the shock clear from Jake’s face, to be replaced by a strange, wondrous look.
“You’re pregnant to me,” he said.
Amy didn’t understand. He sounded as if he liked the idea. Maybe his thinking had been knocked haywire. “Jake...” It was of paramount importance to get through to him. “...It wasn’t meant to happen...”