Sultry Escapes. Leslie Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ of course. By lovers, by potential lovers, by strangers, but she had never felt as thoroughly studied as she did now. It was as if he was examining her, tucking away every detail of her into his prodigious internal memory bank. His dark eyes gleamed, and he made absolutely no effort to disguise his focus or make her think he was doing anything other than memorizing all the things he could see, and imagining all those he could not.

      He wanted her. It was stunningly obvious. He was imagining what wild, wicked things they could do together, of that she had no doubt. She knew because she’d been thinking the same thing since the night she’d arrived. So how could she blame him?

      A mental voice shouted a warning. But another part of her—the part that had been trying to figure out if he had been avoiding her for the past few days because he wasn’t attracted to her, or because he was—appeared to be calling the shots.

      She couldn’t walk away from him now. Not just yet.

      “This is a really bad idea,” he muttered.

      She knew what he meant but still replied, “What is?”

      He swept a hand through his dark hair. The movement made his arms bulge against the white T-shirt he wore, and drew the thin fabric tight against his shoulders. “You standing there, looking like that. Me standing here, looking at you looking like that.”

      Her mouth went dry.

      Turn around, Candace. Go upstairs. Pray your vibrator is still safely tucked in your suitcase and wasn’t pawed over by some luggage guys, dig it out and remember you don’t technically need a man to give you orgasms.

      But she remained still, as if her feet were glued to the floor. Her vibrator couldn’t fill her the way she so desperately wanted to be filled. It couldn’t hold her, stroke her, touch her, lick her. It couldn’t make her feel as utterly jittery with excitement as she felt just standing here, knowing he wanted her.

      Besides, she suddenly realized she couldn’t run away up to her room. Not while he was standing at the bottom of the steps. Her robe was short and tiny, which was why she’d stuffed it in her carry-on bag, and she had never been more conscious of the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Although she and her sister had done their share of mooning during her younger, wilder days, the only way she wanted to wiggle her bare bottom at this man was if she got on all fours and invited him to make her howl.

      Unfortunately, it seemed a bit early in their relationship for that kind of invitation.

       No relationship. There’s not going to be any relationship. Remember?

      “Go upstairs,” he ordered, his voice strangled. That was pretty far from an admission of lust.

      She instinctively shook her head.

      He stepped closer, scowling, almost threatening, as if he could intimidate her into going. “Walk away, Candace. Please.”

      “No. You walk away. The door’s right there.”

      “I can’t.” His hand rose and he stroked the sleeve of her robe, fingering the silk. He didn’t look down, never took his attention off her face, and she wondered if he even realized he’d moved so close. So incredibly close.

      “It has to be you,” he insisted.

      “Why?”

      “I need you to turn your back on me, to make it clear that you want me to leave.”

      He waited. She didn’t turn.

      “All right, at least say it,” he ordered. “Make it clear.”

      She knew what he was asking, but she couldn’t give him what he wanted—a verbal command to go. Not when she suddenly wanted, with every fiber of her being, for him to stay.

      “Tell me to go,” he pleaded.

      She wordlessly shook her head.

      He muttered a curse. Reaching for her, as if unable to control himself, he caught hold of the silky bathrobe tie at her waist. He tightened it a little, maybe not even realizing he was doing it, as if he was fighting an inner battle between pushing her away and pulling her close.

      But she realized it. her nerve endings were roaring now, her heart thudding in her chest. There was something almost predatory in his expression, and the tightening of the sash around her waist made her feel somehow claimed.

      If he pushed her away, she would be devastated.

      If he pulled her close, she’d be lost.

      “Go upstairs,” he insisted.

      “I don’t have to.”

      “God, you’re stubborn.” He leaned in closer, until his pant legs brushed her bare calves. The fabric was deliciously rough and warm from his body and she couldn’t help stepping closer, sucking up that warmth. The early morning air was still chilly but heat wafted from him, like he’d absorbed the first sunbeams of the new day and could now reflect them back.

      He inhaled deeply, as if he needed her scent in his lungs. she knew she smelled fresh, soapy and clean, not perfumed or lotioned, but the man looked intoxicated all the same.

      “This is not why I came in here.” His face was so close to hers, she could feel the gentle fall of his exhalations on her skin. A slight shift and there was the most delicate rasp of his stubble upon her cheek.

      “You came to bring my suitcase,” she murmured, not really thinking about the words they exchanged, able to focus only on his closeness. His power. The scent of his body, the roughness of his strong jaw. She wanted that roughness scraping all over her, knowing his soft, delicious mouth could kiss away any soreness.

      “Right. And now I have.” He moved his body even closer. Their thighs came together.

      “So you can go.” She arched against him, sighing as her hard, aching nipples met that masculine chest.

      “You want me to?” One of his hands dropped to her hip and he squeezed lightly, again making her feel claimed.

      “The choice is yours.” She tilted her head to the side, offering him the bare expanse of her neck.

      “I’ll go then.” He moved his face to her throat, not kissing, not tasting, just breathing in and out, a millimeter from her skin, increasing the tension, heightening her senses.

      So close. So incredibly close.

      “If you say so.” She closed her eyes, swaying slightly on her feet, willing him not to go, and, for heaven’s sake, to just stop talking about it and kiss her.

      “I’m going.”

      “Don’t let me stop you.”

      “Damn it,” he muttered as if he’d finally realized she wasn’t going to order him to leave, and had finally snapped himself out of the sensual spell. But he still couldn’t back away completely, and brushed his cheek against her hair. “Do you always have to get your way?”

      “Ask me in an hour.”

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