Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(40)

He caged her in with forearms laid flat on either side of her head, golden eyes flecked with silver taking her measure. Shrewd and sexual. Predatory. So alive with intelligence that her nerve endings tingled in response.

“Did you come to play, pretty Polly?” He laid a hand on her neck, making her pulse jump. His thumb brushed back and forth in the hollow of her throat, once, twice. “We’re going to have a little talk first, you and I.”

Oh, he had nerve, making demands after pulling a disappearing act and sending her running across town. “Why do you think I came here?”

Without breaking eye contact, his thumb detoured to the skin beneath her cotton T-shirt. “I can think of a few reasons. They all end in you begging and sobbing with your legs spread.” He touched his tongue to the corner of his mouth. “Flexible girl, aren’t you? Gives me a lot of options how to accomplish that.”

“Stop.” She breathed through her nose, unable to calm the desire that sprang to life. He was backlit by the almost-blinding sunlight, his face shadowed in contrasting darkness. It should have multiplied her unease, but not being able to fully make out his features only presented an excuse to give in to the need he inspired. Withstand it. He’s doing it on purpose. “What happened back in the meeting?”

“Indeed, I have the same question.” Polly had no time to prepare before Austin whirled her around, pressing her forward until her cheek met the smooth door. A strangled cry spilled from her mouth, purse dropping to the ground. Bracing her hands against the door, she pushed herself backward, but only met Austin’s hard body. Mouth open against her neck, he walked them both forward, flattening Polly between him and the door. “I can’t hold a f*cking conversation while looking at your lips. They still have your teeth marks on them from last night.”

A tickle moved upward, starting from the insides of Polly’s knees and spreading, spreading to encompass everything. Lord, how could he conduct her body like a symphony? It wasn’t fair. Breathing deeply, Polly closed her eyes, commanding herself to remember why she’d come there. “I’m waiting for an answer. You lost it back there.”

“Did I?” Austin murmured, the fingers of his right hand curling in the hem of her skirt, scant inches beneath the flesh he’d become too well acquainted with in that very room. “Maybe you’re just more attuned to me than most.” The tight material was drawn slowly up her thighs, where he left it gathered just below her hips. Polly’s mouth fell open in a silent moan when one skilled male finger dragged down the underside of her panties, stopping to tap in a slow rhythm against that ultrasensitive spot. “You knew just how much I could take yesterday, didn’t you? Knew just how to give it to me.”

“I-I didn’t come here to…talk about that.”

“Did you come here to admit you went to Derek behind my back?”

“What?” Polly stiffened, immobilized by outrage. “Why would I do that? You think I want the cops on this? Cops make deals, cops destroy evidence and fumble around with red tape we don’t have. I wouldn’t.”

Austin continued as if she hadn’t spoken, but Polly sensed him filing away her statement in some internal hard drive. Sensed that she’d somehow convinced him with her honesty that she hadn’t played him. “I didn’t lose it back in that room to anyone but you.” His mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the entire curve in one long, groaning lick. “And I don’t care if it’s sick, I love it. What would you have done if we were alone and you saw me breaking, sweet?” His easy touch turned rough, his big hand clutching her core and holding tight, tighter, until Polly cried out, knees bumping the door. “Would you have slapped some sense into me?”

“Yes.” The word released on an unsteady exhale, surprising even Polly. As did the rush of control the revelation allowed to sweep in. “Maybe I’ll just do it now.”

“If it pleases you,” he enunciated just above her head. “Although I feel my slap in the face already came in the form of the green-eyed monster. You made me jealous, Polly, and I didn’t like it.” His grip increased in power, ripping a gasp from her throat. “Your pleasure comes from me. Any hint to the contrary is unwelcome. I thought we had an understanding.”

“You left.” Oh God, the mortification. Polly wanted to slam her head against the door at having disclosed such a typical insecurity, but now that the reason for her initial irritation this morning had set itself free, it ran rampant. “I woke up and you’d left me a tea bag. What am I supposed to do with that?” Her jaw felt like it might shatter from grinding her teeth. “And you want to talk about jealousy? Do you, really? After leaving me without a note or…or even a-a text…you show up with a gift for someone else.”

She struggled against his hold, twisting to get away, but he only shoved her back up against the door. “You made me jealous with Henrik because I left.” He sounded like a man trying to solve a riddle, which should have brought on the century’s biggest eye roll, but his touch had turned soothing between her legs, petting over her lace-covered flesh the way one might stroke a kitten. “I spent the morning tracking down an old contact, Polly. A Chicago man who could give us a lead on Reitman.” His voice turned to a gruff whisper, mouth laying a lingering kiss on the back of her neck. “I thought information would please you more than breakfast in bed. A rare misjudgment on my part, it would appear.”