The Carbon Trail by Catriona King Page B

smile and turned. Instead of the Devon he expected to see, the brunette from the elevator was standing by the door. Mitchell caught his breath. The elevator’s lighting hadn’t done her justice. She was beautiful. Her hair flowed across her shoulders in skeins of smooth black silk, making a dark contrast to her alabaster skin. Her lips were curved and red, parted in a smile that promised everything, without a word. But it was her eyes that really told her story. They were a pure moss-green, rimmed with lashes so long that they touched their white surround. Mitchell couldn’t breathe, afraid to break the spell.
    The young woman stared back at him, slipping languidly into the office and locking the door. She crossed the room without a word, until she stood so close that Mitchell could feel her warmth. He did nothing, just sat very still, paralyzed by her closeness. The woman gazed down at him, her pupils widening with each slow blink. She reached forward and stroked Mitchell’s face, then she slid onto his knee and firmly kissed his mouth.
    Mitchell’s body hardened in response and he took her in his arms, returning her kiss with a passion that he’d never felt before. The feeling shocked him, not because of his lust but because he felt detached from it, as though the feeling belonged to someone else. His body reacted instinctively but his mind raced, confused. Was he really thisman? Having sex in the office, while his wife and child waited for him at home?
    The woman ran her tongue across Mitchell’s lips and desire overwhelmed him. He slid his hands up her soft, pale thighs, stopping six inches from the top, then his touch changed instinctively to feather-light strokes, beating a rhythm on each inner thigh until she moaned. Mitchell slipped his fingers gently beneath the girl’s thong and traced lazy circles, until her moaning grew louder and she whispered his name. As her orgasm built Mitchell stood, and in one swift movement he’d laid her on his desk, all caution gone.
    Mitchell gazed down at the woman’s firm, slim body, every inch of it smooth and un-obscured and felt his pulse start to race. He stroked her, slowly at first and then faster, until her sighs grew in volume and she called his name aloud. A moment’s caution rose and Mitchell pressed a finger to her lips, but it passed as soon as it appeared. As the girl’s body pulsed beneath him Mitchell entered her with one hard thrust and drew her higher. He moved back and forth to some silent, primal beat, until his hardness was like stone and finally he came inside her, moaning, his moment of release echoed in her green eyes.
    Mitchell fell across her, spent, and after a minute they drew apart in silence, the only word said since the woman had entered the room her uttering of his name. Mitchell stared at the lithe brunette and at what they’d done and confusion overtook him. Who was she and why did this all feel so familiar? And who the hell was he ? What sort of man fucked a woman half-an-hour before his wife collected him for home? Mitchell’s guilt threatened to overwhelm him but his satisfied lust pushed it quickly away. He felt like an observer in his own life. Part of him knowing that what he’d done was wrong, the other part smirking inwardly at his afternoon delight.
    The woman dressed herself sensuously, fixing Mitchell’s eyes as she rearranged her clothes. When she finally spoke, her voice was dark and cool, with a European edge.
    “Thank goodness for that. I thought you were ignoring me yesterday.”
    “Who are you?”
    Mitchell uttered the words before he could censor himself and immediately wished he could bite the question back. The woman’s eyes widened suspiciously and she scrutinised his face. She looked like a cat, and not a domestic one.
    “Are you being funny? You know exactly who I am!”
    Mitchell gathered himself and smiled, covering the fact that he didn’t know her name.
    “Humour me.” He gave her a knowing smile and the