Bed of Lies by Paula Roe

from his scrutiny made her cheeks warm, and for a second she stood there in guilty silence, thinking he’d call her on it. “Look, we’re in it together. Right?”
    Those seductive eyes were blacker than a starless night and revealed nothing. “I don’t want you involved in my family disputes.”
    “A bit late for that. And anyway, just how are you going to stop me?”
    Luke’s gaze bored into hers, but she refused to back down. Frustration, anger, irritation all flashed in those dark depths, along with something else she was more than familiar with. Guilt.
    “I’m stronger,” he growled.
    She put her hands on her hips and braced her feet apart. “But I can kick.”
    His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
    She gave him a small, deadly smile. “Oh, I would.”
    For a second they both froze, eyeing each other up in adversarial silence until his sudden bark of laughter broke it. His amusement transformed every worry line and tense muscle into something so compelling that it made her heart jump.
    She returned the smile, but realized too late his closeness, his darkening eyes. His sensuous bottom lip.
    Time passed. The blink of an eye. But to Beth it stretched, lengthened, heated, teasing out the moment until the lick of flames in her belly flared up and bathed her in a desperate need she could no longer ignore.
    Gently, almost wonderingly, she placed a tentative hand on his cheek. The rough one-day growth rasped over her skin, reminding her that this was no dream. He was real and hard, the look in his eyes half warning, half wanting, and she couldn’t help herself.
    “Beth…” Her name was like a groan on his lips, his eyes devouring her. She paused, her hand still cupping his face.
    She wanted to feel the contours of his mouth, touch him, kiss him.
    She was going to.
    Every muscle in his body flexed and tensed as she edged closer and pressed her legs against his, her hip bumping his groin. She heard his breath catch, the low rumble in his throat barely audible.
    “What are you doing?” he said quietly.
    “I’m going to kiss you.”
    Luke swallowed. “You have any idea what you’re doing?”
    “No,” she muttered, her lips hovering close to his, hesitant, waiting.
    With a soft groan Luke leaned in and captured her mouth.
    There was heat again, that gut-sucking, toe-curling heat licking him from head to feet. She was kissing him back, her mouth sweetly opening underneath his, her arms wrapping around his neck.
    They moved up against the counter and his back hit the warm humming dishwasher door. Her damp hands tangled in his hair, her breasts pushed into his chest. As he slid one knee between her legs, he felt himself go hard.
    He placed small kisses on her mouth, teasing her bottom lip. He was so deeply intent, transfixed by her smell and delicious taste; her tiny moan of pleasure sent his pulse skyrocketing.
    Beth jumped as Luke started exploring her waist with his fingers, then drew his lips along her cheek, grazing it with kisses.
    “You smell like that face cream in the bathroom,” he murmured, inhaling deeply. “Lemon. Nice.”
    She shivered with pleasure as his mouth feathered over hers then began a slow descent down her neck.
    At some stage he must have hiked up her skirt, because suddenly she felt his hand on her bare thigh, easing up, up, until he was cupping her intimately through the thin cotton of her panties.
    She gasped. It felt so good. So reckless. So unlike her sensible, perfectly ordered life.
    She wanted more.
    With a soft murmur, she eased her legs apart and moved her hips, urging him to continue. And without hesitation, he did, his fingers working under the elastic until suddenly they hit her damp, aroused flesh and she gasped aloud.
    He stilled, his eyes black with passion boring into hers. Between their clothes she felt the urgent pounding of his heart, the sear of heat and the rise and fall of his chest.
    His breath grazed her cheek. “You want me to continue?”
    She stared