Lynsey Stevens - A Physical Affair

‘Good lord, this isn’t the Victorian era. We’re both single and adults.’ Eden faced her, hands aggressively on his hips now. ‘And I hardly think Denver Clarkson gives a damn what we do behind closed doors.’

‘Well, I do give a damn.’

‘Look, Keira,’ he appealed, reaching out to clasp her arm, and Keira started away from him.

His head went up then, his eyes darkening as his own anger surged to equal hers. In one fluid stride he’d followed her, his fingers finding and encircling her wrist, and she found herself propelled against the solid wall of his chest.

Her eyes widened in astonished alarm for short seconds, and then a far more potent emotion surged from deep within her. Suddenly every erotic response in her body found life, stood at full alert, the shock of the intensity of her awareness rendering her completely paralysed.

Part of her mind urgently told her to thrust him away from her, put a steadying distance between them. Yet most of her, those horrifyingly unprecedented feelings of sensual desire, craved for her surrender. Electrifying emotions seared through her to explode at every sensitised nerve ending, clamouring for her to match anything he cared to offer.

His own anger had diminished too. She recognised that same incendiary hunger in his darkened eyes, for it was like looking into the mirror of her own soul. And she knew without reservation that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

A THICKLY sensual sound broke from his throat and his head descended with a slowness that for Keira was very nearly an agony of waiting. His eyes never wavered from hers, each torturous moment holding a so temptingly seductive promise.

Her mouth was suddenly aflame, awaiting the touch of his, and her throat constricted achingly as her heartbeats reverberated in her breast.

Keira’s chin lifted of its own accord and when their lips finally met she heard a thunderous rushing in her ears and felt as though she were drowning, swirling downwards in a vortex of pleasure and pain.

They kissed for minutes, or hours, both oblivious to the passing of time, tongue-tips touching, plundering, exciting each other in a torrent of delirious intensity.

Somehow Eden had turned them around, his hips now resting against her desk. One taut thigh insinuated itself tantalisingly between hers and his hand slid slowly down her back to hold her firmly against him.

Keira’s bones seemed to melt and the fire in the pit of her stomach exploded into an inferno. She moaned softly, moving sensually against him and he pulled her impossibly closer, his lips sliding feverishly along the line of her jaw, the curve of her throat, to settle in the V where the neckline of her blouse skimmed the swell of her breasts.

He drew her blouse from her skirt, his hand slipping over her smooth midriff to cup her breast through the lace of her bra, and when his fingers found her straining nipple her knees gave way beneath her. Keira let herself collapse against him, and she knew she was just as aroused as he so obviously was. She rained light, passionate kisses over his face, the tip of her tongue teasing his earlobe as his fingers on her breast drove her to the brink of ecstatic desire.

And that she was almost past the point of no return some small far-off part of her realised, tried to warn her, and she groaned at the intrusive thought. She didn’t want to think. Or to rationalise her revealing response.

With eyes closed she threw her head back invitingly and his lips trailed smouldering fire over her throat. Then she opened her eyes, her smoky gaze locking with his, and somehow the earth shifted slightly off its axis before righting itself and bringing them just marginally back into kilter.

For long soul-searching moments they gazed at each other, both hovering on the high of their arousal, and it was Eden who broke the heady, electrified silence.

‘Perhaps we’d better lock that damn door,’ he said huskily, his blue eyes still dark liquid pools of molten desire.

Keira blinked languidly, only slowly beginning to take in the picture they made.

Somehow her fingers had fumblingly undone his waistcoat, slid between the buttons of his shirt to settle in the mat of fine hair on his chest. The skirt of her suit was high on her thighs, displaying her nylon-clad legs, and his hand still rested on her swollen breast beneath her blouse.

If anyone walked in and saw them now…

Keira drew back as though she had been stung. Or attempted to. For at her withdrawal Eden’s arm about her had tightened and she struggled, her hands pushing against the hard wall of his chest.

‘Let me go!’ she demanded, her voice catching in her throat. ‘Eden, please! This is madness-’

‘Divine madness,’ he said softly, and held her fast for long moments before he finally slowly released her.

Keira agitatedly pulled down her skirt and began to straighten her blouse, her fingers shaking as she tucked it into her belt. ‘For God’s sake, fix your shirt. Anyone could come in and…’

‘And they’d be suitably shocked, I’m sure,’ he finished drily as he pushed himself to his feet and buttoned his waistcoat, ‘Very short-sighted of us. It would seem our emotions got the better of us, hmm?’

Keira ran a hand over her eyes. ‘I can’t believe…’ She shook her head, completely mortified by her behaviour. ‘This can’t be happening…’

Realising she was babbling, she took a steadying breath. ‘How could you-?’ She heard what she was saying and stopped.

No. In all fairness she couldn’t totally blame Eden. She was just as culpable as he was for their disgusting display of abandonment.

Keira fought to regain her composure. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that this-’ she swallowed painfully ‘-that this was all your fault,’ she finished with as much dignity as she could muster.

‘Thank you. That’s very charitable of you,’ he replied with equal aplomb, and she glanced at him sharply.

‘There’s no need to be condescending,’ she retorted. ‘I fully accept part of the responsibility. I simply don’t know quite what possessed me to act-well, the way I did.’

‘I told you it was inevitable, Keira,’ he said evenly and she glared at him, her eyes flashing.

‘Is that all you can say? Well, that’s your opinion. I happen to disagree. I wouldn’t have said it was inevitable and-’ she gulped a breath, trying to ignore the

vivid memories of the two of them on the dance floor at Sir Samuel’s party ‘-and I’d like you to…I think it would be best if we try to forget it ever happened.’

‘In your opinion, hmm? But can you forget, Keira?’ His deep voice flowed over her, rekindling embers that still glowed within her.

‘Yes. Yes, I can,’ she said, again with more conviction than she felt. ‘If we both agree not to mention it then I think we should be able to put it behind us and, well, just go on from here.’

‘As though nothing happened?’ he repeated without intonation.

Keira lifted her chin. ‘Yes.’

He was silent for long, oppressive moments and then he gave an abruptly sceptical laugh. ‘I’m afraid I don’t think I can do that.’

‘What…what do you mean?’ Keira got out through suddenly dry lips, and Eden shrugged.

‘I mean I don’t care to forget it ever happened.’

A multitude of outrageously unconscionable thoughts skittered about inside Keira’s mind, not the least being the surge of renewed excitement that perhaps he found her desirable enough to… She pulled herself together with no little effort.

‘A moment longer and we’d have been right there on the floor making love,’ he continued harshly.

‘Making love?’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘You’re being generous. I’d hardly call it that.’

‘Making love. Having sex. No matter what name you give it, we would have been doing it. Can you honestly deny that, Keira?’ he demanded, and she paced over to her desk, shaking her head exasperatedly before swinging back to face him.

‘Perhaps not,’ she agreed with distaste. ‘But we can only be thankful we came to our senses before we did something I can assure you I’d have regretted even more. So-’ Keira made herself hold his stormy gaze ‘-I’m afraid you’ll have to try to forget it. Because I don’t intend to have an affair with my boss and feed the avaricious appetite of the trouble-making gossipmongers.’

His eyes continued to sear into hers for long seconds before his lashes fell to shield his expression. ‘Very forceful words, my dear,’ he remarked wearily, as though the subject suddenly bored him, and he crossed to the door, pulling it open before he turned back to face her.

‘By the way, unbelievable as it may now seem, I did legitimately want to discuss something with you. You’ll be needing new office space for Natural Life and a floor has just become available in one of our buildings three streets south of here. You’ll be moving in there almost immediately and you’ll operate from the twelfth floor. In Cassidy-Ford Towers.’

The corner of his mouth quirked sardonically. ‘My offices are in the same building, so it looks as if there’ll be more food for your gossips, Keira,’ he added as he turned and left her.

For the next six weeks Keira worked harder than she had for years. There was the handing over of her job on Chloe to her successor and the move to their new offices. Although most of the groundwork had been done for the revamped magazine there were new staff to be hired, contributors to be contacted, interviews to be set up and coordinated and a hundred and one details to be seen to that kept them all on the hop.

Gail, Keira’s ex-partner, was overjoyed at the chance to contribute to the magazine again. Her twins were now in pre-school so she had some time on her hands and the part-time work suited her down to the ground.

Keira also dug out her late aunt’s recipe books and diaries to recommence the Ask Aunt Aggie column which had been so popular in the old magazine. She hadn’t told Eden that she had been responsible for that by-line. Keira’s Aunt Aggie had been meticulous in recording her favourite recipes and effective old-fashioned remedies.

Of course, the mere thought of working in Cassidy-Ford Towers had filled her with a mixture of apprehensive excitement and abject trepidation. She seemed to be continuously keyed up in the expectation of meeting Eden in the building.

Even though she kept reminding herself that an executive, in this case the top executive, with exclusive offices on the top floor, one floor below his penthouse apartment, would not be likely to use the ordinary bank of lifts. He would have his own express lift.

Yet Keira still entered the building each morning with agitated anticipation, her eyes hastily scanning the foyer for that familiar tall, dark, suit-clad figure.

However, after the first couple of weeks passed uneventfully she began to relax a little. And she even pretended she’d convinced herself that the unbelievably erotic episode in her old office had been just a figment of one very base facet of her imagination.

Yes, she’d almost convinced herself of that. Her body’s responses when she allowed those memories to intrude easily put paid to that assumption, but she refused to dwell on that one small flaw in her reasoning.

Not long after lunch a month before the magazine was due to recommence publication Keira had been down to check on some copy-editing. She stepped into the lift and absently pressed the button for the twelfth floor. As she skimmed through her notes the lift sped silently upwards and when it stopped she looked up, prepared to step into the hallway to her office, but the panel indicated she had halted on the tenth floor.

The lift doors slid silently open and the object of Keira’s recurring tortured thoughts stood before her, framed in the aperture.

In simply a split-second she knew her well-intentioned rationalisation of their indiscreet interlude those short weeks ago exploded into a million meaningless fragments.

She heard once more the sensual sound of the material of his trousers rasping against her nylons as his leg slid between hers. She felt again the solid strength of his broad chest, his arms wrapped possessively around her.

Remembering, her breasts swelled beneath the thin cotton of her tailored shirt, her nipples throbbing sensitively as they responded, and she lifted the sheaf of papers in her hand in an effort to disguise their disconcerting perfidy.

And his mouth. She was almost lost in the recollected sensations of the seductive excitement of his lips moving on hers. Keira felt herself groan inside, part electrifying recall and part painful reminder.

That embrace had been no figment of her fanciful imagination. It was as real as he was, standing before her, over six feet of charismatic male magnetism.