baskets.
Grace made a small gesture with her shoulders. ‘Believe it or not, I don’t spend all my time in this flat cooking.’
‘Obviously not.’ His speculative smile left little doubt as to what he thought she spent most of her time doing. Probably entertaining a steady stream of boyfriends! she thought hopelessly. ‘But that doesn’t alter the fact that you’re not eating enough.’ His eyes, skimming over her willowy figure beneath her black executive suit, admonished as much as they admired. ‘Worrying about something, Grace?’ The sound of the dishwasher door clicking closed only added to an air of menace Grace could almost touch as he got to his feet, so that she was far too affected by him to answer. ‘We’re going to have to do something about that, aren’t we?’ he said.
Aware of the worktop against the small of her back, Grace swallowed, feeling absurdly trapped. The way he was looking at her with that smouldering regard—as though he knew that the reason she couldn’t eat or sleep properly was because she was so wound up over him—left her in no doubt, after that last remark, as to what he was going to do about it.
One of the sleeves of his suit was pushed up, exposing a good deal of immaculate white cuff. Those loose strands of hair that fell tantalisingly over his forehead even though he’d raked them back were curling damply from the steam. He looked flushed, dishevelled and incredibly sexy.
‘Come here, Grace,’ he urged softly.
Chapter Six
S HE didn’t want to. She wanted to ask him to leave. But his eyes were as compelling as his voice had been and, while her lips wouldn’t move, her feet had no such reservations.
Fuelled by an inner fire that his masculinity had stoked, as much a slave to her desire for him now as that teenager had been all those years ago, she moved towards him, drawn by an insistence stronger than her will, stronger even than all her instincts of self-survival.
When she was but half a pace away he reached out and let his fingers curl around the nape of her neck, closing those extra inches as he brought his head down to hers.
Surprisingly, his lips grazed one corner of her mouth, so gently that Grace sucked in her breath from the exquisite tenderness of his action.
His breath was warm and so feather-light against the curve of her cheek that the sensuality of it sent shivers along her spine. She turned her head, her mouth aching for contact with his. He laughed softly, denying it, drawing a small, plaintive sound from her lips.
‘Why rush it?’ he whispered against her ear, and even the deep timbre of his voice was arousing her—as he knew it would, she realised helplessly, lured deeper into the sensual heaven he was creating for her.
With one hand resting against his shirt beneath his openjacket, Grace could feel the warmth of him and the steady rhythm of his heart. His biceps flexed under fingers that were locked tensely onto his immaculate sleeve just below his shoulder. Even the cut and elegance of his clothes couldn’t disguise his latent strength, the whipcord power of his body.
‘Seth…’ she murmured as wanting became a need that spread like bushfire, radiating excitement, heat and tension along her veins.
‘Pleading?’ he mocked softly. But then he was covering her mouth with his own, his arms coming fully around her, pulling her into the hard angles of his taut, aroused body, his groan lost in the warm cavern that was yielding to his sensual plunder now.
No man had ever made her feel like this, Grace acknowledged, her arms sliding up around his neck. No one! Only this man! And now she knew why all her potential relationships with other men had failed. Because after Seth she had wanted to feel like this with someone else, just once, and it had never happened for her. Never in eight long years.
The scent of him was intoxicating as her eager fingers slid into the dark strength of his hair, locking him to her to prolong the kiss, wanting
Grace made a small gesture with her shoulders. ‘Believe it or not, I don’t spend all my time in this flat cooking.’
‘Obviously not.’ His speculative smile left little doubt as to what he thought she spent most of her time doing. Probably entertaining a steady stream of boyfriends! she thought hopelessly. ‘But that doesn’t alter the fact that you’re not eating enough.’ His eyes, skimming over her willowy figure beneath her black executive suit, admonished as much as they admired. ‘Worrying about something, Grace?’ The sound of the dishwasher door clicking closed only added to an air of menace Grace could almost touch as he got to his feet, so that she was far too affected by him to answer. ‘We’re going to have to do something about that, aren’t we?’ he said.
Aware of the worktop against the small of her back, Grace swallowed, feeling absurdly trapped. The way he was looking at her with that smouldering regard—as though he knew that the reason she couldn’t eat or sleep properly was because she was so wound up over him—left her in no doubt, after that last remark, as to what he was going to do about it.
One of the sleeves of his suit was pushed up, exposing a good deal of immaculate white cuff. Those loose strands of hair that fell tantalisingly over his forehead even though he’d raked them back were curling damply from the steam. He looked flushed, dishevelled and incredibly sexy.
‘Come here, Grace,’ he urged softly.
Chapter Six
S HE didn’t want to. She wanted to ask him to leave. But his eyes were as compelling as his voice had been and, while her lips wouldn’t move, her feet had no such reservations.
Fuelled by an inner fire that his masculinity had stoked, as much a slave to her desire for him now as that teenager had been all those years ago, she moved towards him, drawn by an insistence stronger than her will, stronger even than all her instincts of self-survival.
When she was but half a pace away he reached out and let his fingers curl around the nape of her neck, closing those extra inches as he brought his head down to hers.
Surprisingly, his lips grazed one corner of her mouth, so gently that Grace sucked in her breath from the exquisite tenderness of his action.
His breath was warm and so feather-light against the curve of her cheek that the sensuality of it sent shivers along her spine. She turned her head, her mouth aching for contact with his. He laughed softly, denying it, drawing a small, plaintive sound from her lips.
‘Why rush it?’ he whispered against her ear, and even the deep timbre of his voice was arousing her—as he knew it would, she realised helplessly, lured deeper into the sensual heaven he was creating for her.
With one hand resting against his shirt beneath his openjacket, Grace could feel the warmth of him and the steady rhythm of his heart. His biceps flexed under fingers that were locked tensely onto his immaculate sleeve just below his shoulder. Even the cut and elegance of his clothes couldn’t disguise his latent strength, the whipcord power of his body.
‘Seth…’ she murmured as wanting became a need that spread like bushfire, radiating excitement, heat and tension along her veins.
‘Pleading?’ he mocked softly. But then he was covering her mouth with his own, his arms coming fully around her, pulling her into the hard angles of his taut, aroused body, his groan lost in the warm cavern that was yielding to his sensual plunder now.
No man had ever made her feel like this, Grace acknowledged, her arms sliding up around his neck. No one! Only this man! And now she knew why all her potential relationships with other men had failed. Because after Seth she had wanted to feel like this with someone else, just once, and it had never happened for her. Never in eight long years.
The scent of him was intoxicating as her eager fingers slid into the dark strength of his hair, locking him to her to prolong the kiss, wanting
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