Highly Unsuitable: Mr and Mischief / The Darkest of Secrets / The Undoing of de Luca. Kate Hewitt

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СКАЧАТЬ said. She bit her lip, taking its fullness between her teeth, and Jason’s fingers clenched around his flute of champagne.

      ‘What does it matter to you?’ he demanded roughly. ‘I didn’t think you were a great believer in love anyway.’

      ‘I do believe in love!’ Emily returned with sudden force. Her voice rose and Jason wished he had thought to have this conversation somewhere more private. She was making a scene. ‘I believe in it very much,’ she continued, her voice thankfully a notch lower. ‘Just because I haven’t found it for myself—’

      ‘But you’re looking after all?’ Jason enquired. Why was he asking? Why did he care?

      Emily looked troubled, and trapped. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and the skinny strap of her dress fell down her arm. Her dress had just become a bit more revealing. ‘I’m happy as I am,’ she said firmly, ‘and I don’t have anything against Richard Marsden.’

      Jason’s mouth curved in a cool smile. ‘No, indeed, you just find him—let me think—boring. Predictable. Cautious.’

      Emily stiffened in surprise, her eyes widening. ‘This isn’t about you, Jason.’

      No, it wasn’t, Jason thought savagely. Yet it felt like it was about him, and her rather dire assessment of him that still, stupidly, stung. Deliberately, he reached out and slid the strap back up to her shoulder, his fingers sliding along her skin. Emily jerked in response, and he saw desire flare in her eyes. A feeling of triumph raced through him, headier than champagne, followed by another flash of lust. He smiled. ‘No, of course not,’ he murmured. ‘It’s not about you or me at all.’ His hand lingered on her shoulder, his thumb tracing the arc of her collarbone. Emily had frozen, staring at him in dazed shock, and Jason knew he should remove his hand. He was doing it again. Playing with fire. Yet he just couldn’t seem to stop.

      Emily felt as if her mind and body had both frozen, so shocked by the way Jason was touching her. Although that wasn’t quite true; all he’d done was fix her dress strap. No, she was shocked by her own response, the desire coursing through her in a molten flood she had neither expected nor experienced before. And she couldn’t move—or think—or even breathe. The crowds shifted and swirled around them, and she felt as if she and Jason were pinned in place. His thumb stroked her collarbone again, his eyes hard and blazing on hers.

      Somehow, slowly, as if she were in quicksand, Emily moved. She took a shaky step backwards, shaking her head with more force than intended or necessary, her champagne sloshing and her hair flying. ‘This argument is pointless,’ she said. ‘Helen is a grown woman and she can do as she likes. And so can Richard—and Philip—and you.’ Jason had dropped his hand and was simply staring at her. Too disconcerted to say anything more, Emily gave him one last pointed look and pivoted on her heel, intent on finding the only safety on offer: the Ladies.

      Yet just as she’d entered the empty, quiet corridor that led to the loos, Jason was there, his long strides overtaking Emily’s, so he cut her off from her escape and with the simple turn of his body left her trapped against a wall.

       ‘Jason—’

      His body was close enough that she could feel the heat of him, sense his strength. ‘You’re absolutely right, Emily, Helen can do as she likes. And so can Ellsworth. And Richard. And me.’ She looked up at him, his face alarmingly close to hers. His hair was rumpled and colour slashed his cheekbones. Emily was conscious of his nearness, the very scent of him, the way his chest rose and fell under the crisp whiteness of his shirt. Her mind spun with the sensory overload, blanking as she stared up at him, felt the heat of his body like a pulse against her own.

      He braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head so that she was effectively imprisoned, although standing between the strength of his arms did not feel like being trapped. Instead, as her heart started to pound and her cheeks flushed, Emily felt a glorious sense of anticipation that rose up inside her like a bubble, so she felt almost as if she could float right off the ground, anchored only by the heavy thud of her heart. Jason’s gaze remained on her, his eyes the colour of dark honey, and Emily could not look away. From somewhere she found words.

      ‘Well, of course, Jason, they can all do as they like.’ She looked up at him, felt her lips part in what surely was expectation. Invitation. Her voice lowered to a breathless, husky murmur. ‘And just what is it you’d like to do?’

      ‘This.’

      As he lowered his head to hers, Emily could hardly believe this was happening. He was going to kiss her. Alarmingly. Amazingly. At last.

      And then he was kissing her, his lips cool and firm on hers, one hand coming to curve possessively about her waist, his fingers splaying along her hip. With his other hand he touched her cheek, cradling her face in a gesture that was as intimate as the kiss itself and infinitely more tender.

      Emily remained frozen under that gentle touch of his lips, too shocked to respond, at least at first. Then her body began to become aware of just how wonderful it felt to be kissed by Jason, every nerve and sinew suddenly, gloriously alive, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensation. As Jason gently explored the contours of her lips, his mouth so firm and persuasive on hers, her body clamoured for more and then took control despite the sputtering protests her mind still insisted on making.

       This is Jason—Jason! He can’t be kissing me. He can’t want to kiss me …

      Her body was defiant; Emily found she was taking hold of Jason’s shoulders, almost as if she meant to push him away, except of course she didn’t. Instead, her hands slid from his shoulders to his head, her fingers threading through the crisp softness of his hair as her mouth opened under his like a flower in the sun and the gentle touch of his tongue to hers sent her body spinning into a deeper whirlpool of sudden, intense feeling.

      Yet Jason did not deepen the kiss further and, even as she pressed closer, her hips bumping his, she became aware of his restraint. He did not pull her closer; he did not move at all and as her brain came up to speed with her body, Emily realised this kiss was not a kiss of passion, but one of proof. Jason was proving something to her; he was telling her something with this kiss, and Emily wasn’t sure it was anything she wanted to hear.

      Yet before she could pull away in appalled indignation, which was what she intended, Jason broke the kiss and stepped away with his own cool little smile. Emily stared at him, her chest heaving, her lips tingling.

      ‘What was that for?’ she demanded in a raw voice.

      He looked nonplussed for a tiny beat before his lips curved wider in a satisfied smile. ‘Does there need to be a purpose?’

      Emily had no answer, because now that her body had stopped its restless clamour—although it still ached—her mind had taken over, spinning out incoherent protests, impossible ideas.

      ‘Very well,’ Jason said coolly, his voice edged with impatience. ‘Then this. Now you know I’m not boring … and neither is Richard Marsden.’

      ‘And a kiss is meant to convince me of that?’ Emily scoffed, which would have been a lot more believable if her voice hadn’t wobbled.

      ‘Considering how much you enjoyed it,’ Jason replied, his gaze sweeping over her flushed face and heaving chest with knowing assessment, ‘yes.’

      ‘I didn’t—’ Emily protested uselessly, for it was surely a lie and Jason was already walking away from СКАЧАТЬ