He was going to kiss her. Right her

He was going to kiss her. Right here, right now. He’d give her so much pleasure she’d beg for more, and leave her pride and sanity shredded. He wanted to kiss her for one reason—his power and manhood had been threatened, and he wanted it back. He didn’t want her. The wild call of mating and male dominance beckoned him, and she was stuck in his path.
So, Alexa gathered up the scattered threads of her control and played her trump card.
She moved even closer and let her lips rest a bare inch from his. His breath rushed over her mouth.
“No, thank you,” she whispered. She pulled his hands off of her. “I prefer we stick to business. Good night.”
She turned her back on him and disappeared up the stairs.
…

Nick’s hands hung at his sides, empty. For one moment, he’d been filled with her: her curves, her scent, her heat. Now he stood in the middle of the room, alone, just like he had on their wedding night. A married man with a hard-on and no relief in sight. Amazed at his ridiculous predicament, he tried to go over the events of the evening and see where he’d gone wrong.
The moment he caught her with Conte, a slow, steaming anger had risen up within him. The heat started at his feet, traveled to his stomach, his chest, and finally settled like a hot band around his head. If he was a horse, he would have snorted out smoke and stamped his hooves. If he was a wolf, he would have howled at the moon.
Her hand had rested on the count’s arm. He must’ve been quite amusing, because she threw her head back and laughed, her cheeks flushed and rosy. Her full lips had gleamed under the chandelier light. They’d acted like they were long-time friends instead of people who had just met.
But the worst was when she smiled at him.
It was a dazzling, bewitching, come-hither smile that told the man on the receiving end he was everything she was looking for, everything she wanted. A smile that gave a man nasty dreams at night and haunted his waking hours. Nick had never seen that smile directed at him and something crazy exploded inside him.
His plan had misfired. He’d expected her to be mildly entertaining to the count and gain a few tidbits of knowledge to help close the deal. Not actually enjoy the man so openly.
Nick cursed and picked up his tie, ready to go to bed. As he climbed the stairs, he thought about what Alexa had said. If Conte did separate business and pleasure, he’d played the scene all wrong. Maybe when he requested a business meeting he’d concentrate on the rational logistics of the building rather than paint an emotional landscape for the sale. Maybe Conte was only passionate when it came to women. Maybe he wanted a cool-headed executive to head the architectural team.
Nick stopped at her door. The light was off. He paused for a moment and listened for her breathing. He wondered what she wore to bed. Images of scanty black lace wreaked havoc with his mind, but even the thought of her in flannel pants and a cropped T-shirt did things to him no other woman had ever accomplished. Was she lying awake in bed, dreaming of Conte? Or was she thinking about their last kiss and wanting more?
He walked to his own room. She’d rejected him. Her own damn husband. And he was stuck with the one thing he’d been horrified of.
A wife he was attracted to. He shut his bedroom door and forced the thought out of his mind.