irritably.
Megan gave a bemused shrug and stared up at him. For a man with the reputation of infallibility, she reflected grimly, when Emilio got it wrong he got it wrong big time!
‘And you got all that from the colour of my lipstick! Amazing, you’re even smarter than they say.’
The muscles around his jaw tightened at her mock admiration. ‘Oh, so I’m meant to believe you didn’t have the
faintest
idea what you could do to me … a man, looking that way.’
‘Do to a man?’ Her eyes widened. The expressionsmouldering in his deep-set eyes made her heart kick up several more uncomfortable notches. ‘Me? Sure,’ she drawled, coating her words with protective cynicism as she batted her eyelashes like crazy and struck a provocative pose, hand on hip. ‘It’s such a burden being irresistible. Ouch,’ she yelled, pulling back as his fingers closed like an iron band around her wrist.
The touch was light and the effect on her nervous system totally disproportionate. ‘This habit you have of putting yourself down before someone else does is one you should try to break.’
‘I don’t—’ Emilio watched the flash of recognition in her eyes before they fell from his.
‘That hurts,’ she lied, wincing not in pain but at the breathy sound of her own voice.
Emilio was breathing hard as he brought her hands together and pressed them, palms sealed, between his.
It was a moment before his gaze lifted from their entwined fingers. The blaze of hunger in his eyes as they connected with her own made Megan’s insides dissolve.
‘So does wanting a woman so much you can’t think of anything else, so much that you can’t function!’ he growled, jerking her roughly towards him until they stood thigh to thigh.
They were so close now that Megan could hear his heartbeat, or was that her own? His hands had moved to the small of her back, leaving her own trapped between their bodies. She might have struggled to work out where he ended and she started, except he was harder … much harder. The muscular thighs she was pressed against had as much give as oak-tree trunks.
Shaking her head to clear the dreamy, light-headed sensation, she forced herself to recognise the abrupt rise in hercore temperature for what it was: a hormone rush—God, a hormone avalanche!
She struggled hard to inject a note of humour into her response. ‘Your concern for your fellow man does you credit, but I promise to behave and never wear pink lipstick again.’
‘I have no concern for them.’ Emilio dismissed the mental well-being of one half of the population with an expressive sneer. ‘And,’ he added, gritting out the words with force, ‘I don’t want you to behave.’
‘You don’t?’ she whispered.
His glittering eyes held hers. ‘Not at all,’ he confirmed in a deep smoky voice that sent shivers of anticipation down her spine.
Emilio wanted her to misbehave—with him.
She said it twice in her head and it still didn’t seem real. Did she even know how to misbehave in the way he clearly expected? Her eyes drifted to his gorgeous, incredibly sexy mouth and suddenly her lack of experience felt less important as need swelled inside her, tightening into a hard fist of hot desire in her belly.
Emilio was the one man whom she had always been prepared to sacrifice her principles for. She had frequently told herself she was lucky he had never asked her to. That way, she had reasoned, she had no regrets—what she also did not have, but had not previously acknowledged, were no memories.
Now he was standing there, not asking directly but sending some pretty explicit messages, unless she had disastrously misinterpreted his thinly veiled comments and the gleam of sexual intent in his eyes was a figment of her overheated imagination.
She checked. That gleam looked real. It felt real, shethought as a fresh shiver rippled through her body. At that moment it hit her that it
was
real; she wasn’t dreaming.
What am I doing?
Belatedly
Megan gave a bemused shrug and stared up at him. For a man with the reputation of infallibility, she reflected grimly, when Emilio got it wrong he got it wrong big time!
‘And you got all that from the colour of my lipstick! Amazing, you’re even smarter than they say.’
The muscles around his jaw tightened at her mock admiration. ‘Oh, so I’m meant to believe you didn’t have the
faintest
idea what you could do to me … a man, looking that way.’
‘Do to a man?’ Her eyes widened. The expressionsmouldering in his deep-set eyes made her heart kick up several more uncomfortable notches. ‘Me? Sure,’ she drawled, coating her words with protective cynicism as she batted her eyelashes like crazy and struck a provocative pose, hand on hip. ‘It’s such a burden being irresistible. Ouch,’ she yelled, pulling back as his fingers closed like an iron band around her wrist.
The touch was light and the effect on her nervous system totally disproportionate. ‘This habit you have of putting yourself down before someone else does is one you should try to break.’
‘I don’t—’ Emilio watched the flash of recognition in her eyes before they fell from his.
‘That hurts,’ she lied, wincing not in pain but at the breathy sound of her own voice.
Emilio was breathing hard as he brought her hands together and pressed them, palms sealed, between his.
It was a moment before his gaze lifted from their entwined fingers. The blaze of hunger in his eyes as they connected with her own made Megan’s insides dissolve.
‘So does wanting a woman so much you can’t think of anything else, so much that you can’t function!’ he growled, jerking her roughly towards him until they stood thigh to thigh.
They were so close now that Megan could hear his heartbeat, or was that her own? His hands had moved to the small of her back, leaving her own trapped between their bodies. She might have struggled to work out where he ended and she started, except he was harder … much harder. The muscular thighs she was pressed against had as much give as oak-tree trunks.
Shaking her head to clear the dreamy, light-headed sensation, she forced herself to recognise the abrupt rise in hercore temperature for what it was: a hormone rush—God, a hormone avalanche!
She struggled hard to inject a note of humour into her response. ‘Your concern for your fellow man does you credit, but I promise to behave and never wear pink lipstick again.’
‘I have no concern for them.’ Emilio dismissed the mental well-being of one half of the population with an expressive sneer. ‘And,’ he added, gritting out the words with force, ‘I don’t want you to behave.’
‘You don’t?’ she whispered.
His glittering eyes held hers. ‘Not at all,’ he confirmed in a deep smoky voice that sent shivers of anticipation down her spine.
Emilio wanted her to misbehave—with him.
She said it twice in her head and it still didn’t seem real. Did she even know how to misbehave in the way he clearly expected? Her eyes drifted to his gorgeous, incredibly sexy mouth and suddenly her lack of experience felt less important as need swelled inside her, tightening into a hard fist of hot desire in her belly.
Emilio was the one man whom she had always been prepared to sacrifice her principles for. She had frequently told herself she was lucky he had never asked her to. That way, she had reasoned, she had no regrets—what she also did not have, but had not previously acknowledged, were no memories.
Now he was standing there, not asking directly but sending some pretty explicit messages, unless she had disastrously misinterpreted his thinly veiled comments and the gleam of sexual intent in his eyes was a figment of her overheated imagination.
She checked. That gleam looked real. It felt real, shethought as a fresh shiver rippled through her body. At that moment it hit her that it
was
real; she wasn’t dreaming.
What am I doing?
Belatedly
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