melting her bones, corroding her will with sweet, mind-bending temptation.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A ND if he walked out on her again Siena knew she’d cope. No longer a naïve kid, she’d take what she could with no regrets.
“No second thoughts,” she said soberly. “What about you?”
And, even though she was almost certain she knew the answer, her breath locked in her throat.
“None.” Nick examined her with hooded eyes, their shadowed green depths unreadable. “And this time I won’t say I’m sorry and leave you. I’ve felt a heel about it for years.”
“You can stop right there,” she told him. “We were both too young for any sensible behaviour.”
His mouth twisted. “Too immature in my case.”
She didn’t know what to expect—a passionate kiss, perhaps? Something—
anything
—to help banish the last feeble protests of her inconvenient common sense?
Instead Nick put out his hand, and when she took it his fingers closed around hers in a grip that seemed to signify much more than a way to pull her closer to him. It felt like a claim, an assertion of some sort, she thought in confusion, lowering her lashes against his glinting metallic gaze.
He used his other hand to push up her chin. “Open your eyes.”
Siena’s lashes fluttered apart just far enough for her to see his mouth. “Why?”
“So you know who you’re kissing.”
This time her lashes flew up. “I know who you are,” she told him, compelled by the intensity of his gaze. His expression didn’t alter, and she expanded throatily, “You’re Nick, and I want you.”
Raising her free hand, she curved it around the hard line of his jaw, her fingertips caressing the raw silk texture. Tempting excitement sizzled though her, seductively alluring as the sea on a summer’s day.
When his mouth curled into a smile she said in a husky little voice, “And if I want to close my eyes, I will.”
He laughed deep in his throat and bent his head. Shivering with delicious, almost poignant anticipation, Siena felt his breath against her lips when he said, “I asked for that.”
And then his mouth claimed hers, wrenching a sigh from the very depths of her being. She had never felt so utterly safe—or so exposed. Nick’s kiss seared through her, demanding not just surrender but commitment, a complete yielding of herself, of everything she was and could be.
A kind of panic struggled to make itself felt, then died as a flood of pleasure overwhelmed her.
He broke the kiss, and stooped to pick her up. Her eyes opened; she gave him a look she knew had to be dazzled and dreamy, but her voice was slightly astringent when she said, “I can walk.”
“Allow me my fantasies,” he said on a smile that held no humour, and kissed any idea of an answer away.
Siena was so lost in delight that he’d lowered her onto the bed before she swam free of her honeyed, erotic daze and looked wildly around while he turned out the lights, leaving only one lamp to glow softly beside the bed.
Her room. Someone had pulled the sheets back ready for the night, and the linen was cool against the fevered skin of her arms and legs. She kicked off her shoes, hearing them fall to the floor with quiet thuds.
Nick sat down beside her, tanned skin drawn over the powerful framework of his face, his green eyes almost black. Gently he touched her throat, letting his fingertip linger across the skin there. Sinuous rills of exquisite sensation travelled from the point of contact to the pit of her stomach.
He asked in an oddly rough tone, “How does this pretty dress come off?”
“Over my head.” Instead of in her normal voice the words came out in a gruff little mutter.
When he expertly eased the soft material over her head, she wondered with a pang how many previous lovers he’d had to gain such ease and skill.
But he’d always been deft and sure in his movements.
Although the air conditioning kept the suite at a comfortable temperature, she was shivering when the
CHAPTER SEVEN
A ND if he walked out on her again Siena knew she’d cope. No longer a naïve kid, she’d take what she could with no regrets.
“No second thoughts,” she said soberly. “What about you?”
And, even though she was almost certain she knew the answer, her breath locked in her throat.
“None.” Nick examined her with hooded eyes, their shadowed green depths unreadable. “And this time I won’t say I’m sorry and leave you. I’ve felt a heel about it for years.”
“You can stop right there,” she told him. “We were both too young for any sensible behaviour.”
His mouth twisted. “Too immature in my case.”
She didn’t know what to expect—a passionate kiss, perhaps? Something—
anything
—to help banish the last feeble protests of her inconvenient common sense?
Instead Nick put out his hand, and when she took it his fingers closed around hers in a grip that seemed to signify much more than a way to pull her closer to him. It felt like a claim, an assertion of some sort, she thought in confusion, lowering her lashes against his glinting metallic gaze.
He used his other hand to push up her chin. “Open your eyes.”
Siena’s lashes fluttered apart just far enough for her to see his mouth. “Why?”
“So you know who you’re kissing.”
This time her lashes flew up. “I know who you are,” she told him, compelled by the intensity of his gaze. His expression didn’t alter, and she expanded throatily, “You’re Nick, and I want you.”
Raising her free hand, she curved it around the hard line of his jaw, her fingertips caressing the raw silk texture. Tempting excitement sizzled though her, seductively alluring as the sea on a summer’s day.
When his mouth curled into a smile she said in a husky little voice, “And if I want to close my eyes, I will.”
He laughed deep in his throat and bent his head. Shivering with delicious, almost poignant anticipation, Siena felt his breath against her lips when he said, “I asked for that.”
And then his mouth claimed hers, wrenching a sigh from the very depths of her being. She had never felt so utterly safe—or so exposed. Nick’s kiss seared through her, demanding not just surrender but commitment, a complete yielding of herself, of everything she was and could be.
A kind of panic struggled to make itself felt, then died as a flood of pleasure overwhelmed her.
He broke the kiss, and stooped to pick her up. Her eyes opened; she gave him a look she knew had to be dazzled and dreamy, but her voice was slightly astringent when she said, “I can walk.”
“Allow me my fantasies,” he said on a smile that held no humour, and kissed any idea of an answer away.
Siena was so lost in delight that he’d lowered her onto the bed before she swam free of her honeyed, erotic daze and looked wildly around while he turned out the lights, leaving only one lamp to glow softly beside the bed.
Her room. Someone had pulled the sheets back ready for the night, and the linen was cool against the fevered skin of her arms and legs. She kicked off her shoes, hearing them fall to the floor with quiet thuds.
Nick sat down beside her, tanned skin drawn over the powerful framework of his face, his green eyes almost black. Gently he touched her throat, letting his fingertip linger across the skin there. Sinuous rills of exquisite sensation travelled from the point of contact to the pit of her stomach.
He asked in an oddly rough tone, “How does this pretty dress come off?”
“Over my head.” Instead of in her normal voice the words came out in a gruff little mutter.
When he expertly eased the soft material over her head, she wondered with a pang how many previous lovers he’d had to gain such ease and skill.
But he’d always been deft and sure in his movements.
Although the air conditioning kept the suite at a comfortable temperature, she was shivering when the
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