Read Zoe and the Tormented Tycoon for Free Online

anything—before. And he hadn’t even kissed her.
    Yet he was going to, Zoe knew that, felt it. She wanted him to, and yet she could hardly believe this was happening, that she’d come here, found him. Her nerves leapt to life and she opened her mouth to say—what? Something, preferably something light or clever, to diffuse the intensity of the moment, of him , but before she uttered a word—and she wasn’t even sure she could —she was prevented by his mouth coming down on hers.
    His lips were hard, the kiss urgent and even a little angry, as if this moment was all either of them might ever have. His fingers slipped from hers, his hands sliding under her top to cup her breasts, and Zoe gasped at the sudden, intimate touch.
    Her senses reeled; her body jerked into an instinctive and powerful response, and she found herself answering him kiss for kiss, the sorrow and despair of the past few weeks overflowing from her soul into this one caress. The intensity of Max’s kiss, as well as her own response, surprised her—this wasn’t even like her. She wasn’t used to feeling this much, had been keeping it at bay these past weeks, maybe forever, and yet—
    Yet she couldn’t stop herself from responding, from her hands travelling up Max’s hard, muscled shoulders to his hair—surprisingly soft—pulling him closer, as if she could take him right into her skin, fuse their bodies and melt into one.
    It frightened her, this feeling so much. Wanting so much. From somewhere she summoned the strength to pull away—or try to, for she was trapped against the wall of glass. She arched her head back, her hair cascading down her back, so she could look at his face. Colour stained his cheekbones; his eyes were closed, his breathing ragged.
    â€˜In a hurry, are we?’ she finally managed, but if she’d meant to sound light and unaffected, she failed. Her voice came out in little more than a gasp, and her body shook with the aftershocks of emotion.
    He drew in a breath, and slid his hands from her breasts up to her shoulders, threading his fingers through her hair, his thumbs massaging her scalp. ‘Why waste time?’ he murmured.
    â€˜I’m sure you get plenty of women with that approach.’ With the last of her willpower Zoe slipped under his arms, away from the cage of his body, and walked across the floor on legs that were far too wobbly.
    Max propped one shoulder against the window, one hand in his trouser pocket. He looked remarkably recovered. Zoe felt as weak as a newborn kitten, a motherless lamb.
    â€˜You want to talk ?’ he asked with the slightest sneer, but it was still—considering what had just happened—enough to wound. Zoe sank into one of the chrome chairs—more comfortable than she’d expected—and arched an eyebrow.
    â€˜Silly me,’ she said, and her voice finally sounded light and droll. ‘I thought you might have mastered the art of conversation.’
    â€˜Only when necessary.’ He walked slowly along the outside of the room, one hand trailing along the glass wall, so Zoe felt as if she were a powerless prey being circled by a hungry predator. He stopped in front of a chrome-and-glass drinks table; a bottle of whisky and a tumbler were already neatly laid out. He poured himself a finger’s worth, his movements deliberate and precise. ‘So,’ he finally said, sipping his drink and swivelling to face her, ‘you’re from England.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Just visiting, or do you live here?’
    Zoe hesitated. ‘Visiting,’ she said finally. ‘For now.’
    â€˜No firm plans?’ Again, that slight sneer that still hurt. More than it should.
    She smiled with a breezy confidence she was far from feeling. Seemingly innocent questions, yet each one possessed its own little sting. ‘No. Never. I’m not that kind of