A waiter approached, offering another tray of fancy canapés. Matt plucked the glass from Nicole's hold, her fingers sliding from it, not clutching. He put both his and her glass on the tray, uncaring that it was carrying food. The action jerked her gaze towards the tray. Matt wasn't about to give her time to regroup. The wave was going his way and ride it he would.
He grabbed her hand, winding his own firmly around it. "Come with me," he commanded and set off, making a path through the partying crowd, pulling her with him. She didn't try to pull back.
Her acquiescence put a surge of power into his sense of rightness.
Nothing was going to stop him. They had to pass by his grandmother and Rosita. He didn't care if they saw or what they thought of him and Nicole leaving together. Let them wonder. It didn't matter.
A phrase from the old Star Wars movie clicked into his mind—The force be with you! It was with him all right, pounding through his bloodstream, invigorating every muscle in his body, making his skin tingle with electric vitality.
They were finally free of the function room, out in the corridor, heading for the elevators. There was a tug on his hand, a breathless cry, "Where are you taking me?"
"Where we can be alone together." He paused long enough to release her hand and put his arm around her waist, wanting her clasped close to him, inseparable. He scooped her with him the last few steps to the bank of elevators and pressed the button to give them access to one of them.
"This isn't right," she gasped, still out of breath. "Oh, yes it is!"
"I think..."
"That's the problem." His eyes blazed his inner certainty at her. "You've been thinking too much since we were interrupted."
Doors slid open..
He swept her into the empty compartment and pressed the button for the floor where his room was situated.
"This is not a grey issue," he stated as the doors slid shut. "It's black and white..." He turned her fully into his embrace, sliding one hand into her glorious hair to hold her head tilted up to his. "...and red," he added with deep satisfaction, loving the feel of her hair and craving the taste of her red mouth.
He kissed her. Her lips felt soft under his, infinitely seductive. Her mouth was far more intoxicating than champagne. It fizzed with passion, exciting all the primitive instincts she stirred in him.
When the elevator doors opened, it triggered the urge to pick her up, keep hold of her. He bent, hooking his arm around her thighs, and sweeping her up against his chest where his heart was beating like a wild tom-tom, drumming him forward.
He was out of the elevator and striding towards his room, his whole being focused on one outcome, when unbelievably, her hand slammed against his shoulder and she began struggling.
"Let me go! Put me down!" Fierce cries, ringing in his ears.
He stopped, looked his puzzlement at her, realised she was in earnest, wanting to be released, so he set her on her feet, still not understanding what the fuss was about.
She wrenched herself out of his hold, whirling to put distance between, then backing towards the elevator, her hands up in a warding-off action, her face blazing with passionate protest.
"I won't let you do this again!"
"Do what?'' He was completely perplexed by her reaction. She'd responded to his kiss...
Her breasts heaved as she drew breath to hurl more words at him. "Just taking me when you feel like it."
"Now hold on a minute. You..." He stepped towards her. "Stop right there!" Her voice cracked out like a whip. "Don't you dare grab me again!"
He stopped, clenching his hands in frustration at this unreasonable outburst. "You came with me, Nicole," he grated out.
"Yes," she snapped. "But I've come to my senses now and I will not come with you any further, Matt King."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't like myself for... for letting your sex appeal...override everything else. I won't let what happened earlier tonight happen again."
"It was good. It was great," he argued vehemently.
"That's all you want from me, isn't it? More sexual satisfaction." "You get it from me, too," he countered hotly knowing full well she'd
not gone short on pleasure with him.
Heat scorched her cheeks. "So we're supposed to service each other, are we?"
He could feel his chin jutting out at this crude description, but pride wouldn't let him back down. "Seems like a good idea to me."
She shook her head. "That's not who I am." "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." Her eyes flashed with scornful pride, "...find someone else to take to your bed. I don't want that kind of relationship."
She turned and jabbed the button to summon an elevator. Matt had the sinking feeling he'd just dug his own grave with her. But how could that be? The wanting was mutual. What was wrong with being honest? She'd kissed him back in the elevator. Her body had clung yearningly to his.
"What do you want?" he shot at her.
She shook her head. "I'm going back to the party."
Her gaze was fixed on the arrow indicating an elevator rising to this floor.
"Nicole!"
She wouldn't look at him.
"The least you can do is answer me."
"Just...leave me alone...please." Her voice wobbled. It struck Matt that she was in acute distress, possibly crying. What had he done? Before he could begin to figure out how to fix the situation, an elevator opened and she moved in a frantic flurry, rushing into it and jabbing at the control panel inside the compartment, her head dipped, her hair swishing forward, curtaining her white face. No colour in her cheeks now.
The doors started to slide shut. Matt moved instinctively to block their closure, the urge to fight any closure with Nicole Redman screaming through him.
"Don't! Please, don't! Let me go!" she cried despairingly, flapping her hands at him in wild agitation as she backed up against the rear wall of the small compartment, her eyes swimming with tears, lashes blinking frantically but unable to stop the moist stream from trickling down her cheeks.
"Just tell me what you do want. Whatever it is you think I won't give you," he demanded hoarsely, churned up by her turbulent emotion. "I need an answer."
"You need..." Her throat choked up. She bent her head and wrapped her arms around herself in a protective hug. He could see her swallowing convulsively and wanted to offer comfort, wanted to hold her and soothe her distress away, but her rejection of him made it impossible.
Her head slowly lifted, lifted high, her chin raised in a proud lonely stand, her eyes bleakly haunted by needs that were part of her world, not his.
"I want to be loved," she said in a raw husky voice. "I want someone to care about me. Look after me. My life is empty of that. Empty..."
It was an instantly recognisable truth. No family, no attachments. And from what he'd read in her book, she'd done all the loving and caring and looking after her father. Not much coming back her way.
Her mouth twisted into a mocking grimace as she added, "And sex doesn't fill that space. It never will."
It shamed him, made him realize how blinded he'd been by his own desire for her, blinded every which way from his initial prejudice against her job with his grandmother to her physical response to the sexual attraction between them.
"Please...will you let me go now?" What could he do?
He stepped back and let her go, watching the doors slide shut, knowing there was nothing he could say that would change her mind about him. No power in the world would force her to see him differently, not at this point. Besides, it was plain she wanted what he was not prepared to give. Love... marriage... family. It was not on his agenda. But he hated leaving her...so empty. It made him feel empty himself.