Hot Picks: Exotic Propositions. Кейт Хьюит

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      Lukas waited till he’d heard Rhiannon’s soft, scared footsteps on the stairs, heard the relieved click of her door. Then he swore.

      He strode from the kitchen, found the lounge, and sat down at the piano—his usual source of comfort. His refuge.

      Except tonight there was no escape from the torment. His body throbbed with unfulfilled desire even as his mind ached with the knowledge of what he’d stooped to…what he’d almost done.

      All because of desire.

      He shook his head, his fingers splaying over the piano keys without making a sound.

      Desire. He’d seen it ruin lives—his mother’s, his three sisters’, his nephew’s. All of them had given away their self-respect, their dignity, for a few moments of grasped pleasure, a mistaken belief in love.

      He’d spent his life witnessing their mistakes…paying for them. He’d promised his father, and more importantly himself, that he would never give in to base cravings, no matter how strong or urgent, and watch need wreck his life.

      For a brief moment he remembered his own need—a boy begging for love. Clinging, grasping, pleading…a weak, pathetic fool.

      Never again.

      Of course he’d had women. He was neither a monk nor a saint. But the affairs had been brief, a matter of expediency on both sides, and each time the woman he’d used—he couldn’t give it a better word—had understood what she was getting.

      And what she wasn’t.

      But Rhiannon…Rhiannon was off-limits. He knew that. She was innocent, vulnerable. Dangerous. An affair with her would lead to complications he didn’t need, couldn’t afford. He closed his eyes, imagining the tabloid headlines, the smearing of the Petrakides name.

      And Rhiannon would be hurt.

      He knew that—knew she was too innocent to keep herself from falling in love. Love was something he would never give. Something he would never want.

      Because, as she’d reminded him, he didn’t want anything. Refused to allow himself to want, to be weak.

      Yet he wanted her.

      Lukas swore again. Why did that slip of a woman, with too much curly hair and eyes like sunlit puddles, make him go crazy? Lose control? Want to lose control?

      That was what chilled him the most.

      Nobody made Lukas Petrakides lose control.

      Nobody.

      Except this one woman who had come closer than anyone else.

      He stood up from the piano, strode to the window. Outside the sky was black, pricked with stars reflecting blurrily on the sea below.

      He could hear the gentle lapping of the waves, the timeless sound of surf and wind, and felt soothed by the power, the effortless control of the ocean around him.

      Things had to change. Rhiannon had to go. He’d wanted to give her time, to sow the seeds of doubt that would have her leaving for Wales in good conscience, thinking it was her idea.

      Now he realised there was no time. The desire was too strong, the danger too real. Tomorrow he would leave…and soon so would she.

      The thought of never seeing her again made Lukas’s gut twist. He didn’t want her to go.

      The realisation shamed him. Already she was making him want, making him weak. It had to stop.

      Even if it hurt. Especially if it did.