Название: Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe
Автор: Heidi Rice
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781472097064
isbn:
‘I’m not interested in talking about her or our marriage,’ he said, as if withholding such a vital piece of information was perfectly reasonable.
‘I specifically asked you if you were involved with her. And you didn’t say a word.’
She stared at the lift display panel as if her life depended on it. She didn’t want to look at him. And where the heck was the lift? It needed to get here before she did something really idiotic like bursting into tears. For some reason her emotions had been too close to the surface all night. Ever since she’d leapt into his car like a crazy lady—and then come apart on his sofa.
‘Because there’s nothing to say,’ he huffed. ‘I was never involved with her. Not in any real sense. Our marriage lasted exactly six months and I’ve regretted it ever since. The fact that she’s delusional and insists on pretending there’s still something between us is not my problem.’ His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin and he directed her gaze back to his. ‘Do you think you could look at me while you’re having your snit?’
‘This is not a snit.’
To her astonishment his lip curved up at one corner. ‘It looks like one to me.’
‘Excuse me, but you weren’t the one who got called a little tart in front of three hundred people.’
The other corner curved up. ‘I’m sure it was only two hundred and fifty,’ he replied, his eyes now smiling too.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.
‘Now, Cassie,’ he said, amusement lightening his voice as he threaded his fingers into the fine hair at her nape. ‘You’re not looking on the bright side here.’
‘What bright side?’ she snapped, trying very hard not to be charmed by that sensual smile and the caressing touch. It wasn’t fair. She’d been humiliated. Branded a tart by a woman she didn’t even know. And he seemed to think it was a joke. She wasn’t about to humour him.
Following her into the lift, he pressed the ground-floor button then placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her against the wall. ‘The bright side is, we get to leave straight away. A whole hour earlier than planned.’
She braced her palms against his chest, but her arms felt heavy, sluggish, the coil of desire unravelling at an alarming speed and sapping her ability to push him away.
‘You don’t seriously think it’s still game on for tonight, do you?’ she said, trying for indignant but getting breathless instead.
He leaned down to suckle the pulse point in her neck. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘Well, you’re wrong,’ she sputtered, but her head dropped back, instinctively giving him better access.
His gaze, dark and intent, fixed on hers as he let one hand drop to snake under her coat and grip her waist. ‘You’re a terrible liar, you know.’ He pulled her flush against him, all trace of amusement gone. ‘Now tell me again you don’t want me and I’ll take you home.’
The gruff invitation and the feel of his rigid arousal pressing into her stomach made the words catch in her throat. She couldn’t say it, because she did want him. And he was right, she’d never been a good liar.
She wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted. Like a child in a sweet shop, offered the chance to grab as many delights as she could handle.
‘It’s not good to have everything you want,’ she mumbled, mesmerised by the golden flecks that gilded the vivid green of his irises.
His thumb brushed across her nipple and she groaned, the aching tension that shot straight to her sex making resistance futile. ‘It will be tonight,’ he said.
The lift doors opened onto the ground-floor lobby and he eased back. Stepping out, he drew her with him, then dug into the back pocket of his jeans.
He flipped his phone open and dialled without taking his eyes off her. ‘We’re ready now, Dave. How soon can you get here?’
His lips tipped up as he listened to the reply. ‘We’ll be waiting.’
‘How long is it going to take him?’ she asked, her teeth tugging on her lip. She might as well stop pretending that she wasn’t going to jump him as soon as they got back to his suite. Because she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t told her about his ex-wife. It didn’t even matter that the woman had called her a tart. All that mattered now was that the chemistry was hotter than molten lava—and she couldn’t wait any longer to feel it erupt.
‘Too damn long,’ he said as the chauffeur-driven car squealed to a halt at the kerb.
‘READY for your candy now?’ Jace growled, his voice husky with lust and humour as he kicked the door of the suite shut.
Cassie giggled, adrenaline and desire coursing through her veins. Her back hit the lobby wall with a soft thud, the hard lines of his body flattening her breasts and making her belly throb.
‘Yes, please,’ she flirted back, sinking her fingers into the silky waves of his hair.
Don’t think, just feel. And enjoy. Although relaxing was out of the question, seeing as she was about to explode.
They’d kissed and touched on the ride home, stoking the need to fever pitch, but through their clothes the caresses had been as frustrating as they were exciting.
He fastened his lips on her neck, his hands parting the flaps of her coat. The caress roamed over her hips, tugged up her tunic to settle on her behind. He dragged her towards him, grinding the hard bulge in his jeans against the swell of her stomach. ‘You’ve got too many clothes on.’
Cassie ran her hands inside his leather jacket. Lifting the hem of his sweater, she finally touched bare skin. ‘So do you,’ she moaned.
Her fingertips explored the soft line of hair over washboard-lean abs, the warm skin like velvet over steel.
He shuddered, huffed out a laugh and stepped back. ‘Let’s remedy the situation.’
Shrugging off his jacket, he threw it on the floor. Then reached for her coat. She twisted to help him pull it off. Crossing his arms, he grasped his sweater and struggled out of it.
As he tossed the light jumper away Cassie stared, transfixed, at broad shoulders, beautifully defined pectoral muscles and the curls of dark hair that stood out in tufts under his arms, outlined flat brown nipples and then trailed down to bisect the ridges of his six pack and arrow beneath the buckle of his belt.
Her breath backed up in her lungs. That was one seriously gorgeous chest.
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