opened his mouth.
When she stirred, she felt his thigh beneath her cheek shift and tighten, and she had to clench her fists to stop herself from involuntarily stroking that hard muscle.
She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly as his hand suddenly left her hip to gently toy with her hair.
* * *
So soft. Marco heard her faint sigh, barely discernible against the rich baroque sound track. Yet his senses went on high alert at the sudden tension riding her back as he continued to stroke her hair, the silky chocolate strands twining around his fingers. The sudden urge to bury his face in that hair, breathe deep and never come up for air winded him.
“Marco?”
His name, warm and whispery on her lips, sent a bolt of heat to his groin.
“Yes?”
“You should stop.”
He didn’t pretend to fake ignorance. “I don’t think I can.”
She turned her head in his lap and he groaned under his breath. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him, and he couldn’t help himself. He needed to kiss her. Now.
So he did.
She had ample time to protest or move away, but she did neither, just watched him get closer and closer until his lips gently brushed over hers, tentative at first, then with more urgency.
Her sigh ended on a groan and told him everything he needed to know.
They spent long moments that way, just exploring each other’s mouths with lips, tongue and breath until Marco finally pulled back with a soft curse.
“What the hell is this, Kat?”
She stared up at him, eyes wide. “I have no clue. But...can we just...not talk about it?”
“Kat—”
“Please, Marco. With everything else going on, let’s just not...not analyze this.”
His hand skimmed over her jaw then down her neck to finally rest across her collarbone, a frankly possessive gesture that she ignored. “We’re going to have to at some point.”
She sighed. “I know. Just not now, okay?”
When she tentatively leaned up, lips seeking his, he pulled back, and for one brief second he saw her tense, as if preparing herself for rejection, and it just about killed him then and there. With a groan, he cupped her head and captured her lips in a deep kiss.
They kissed for ages, the rich music and French dialogue a sensual background that only flamed his need, urging him to do more, to touch, to possess.
He abruptly pulled back. “We should...”
She swallowed. “Stop?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
He heard her breath rattle as he studied her, taking in the curve of her lips, the mix of emotion in her darkened eyes. Did she...? Would he...?
Impossible.
Or was it?
“You’re right.”
He gently eased off the couch and moved away to the kitchen, leaving her in silence. She’d surely stop him, say something, if she thought any different, right?
But as he went through the motions of getting a drink, the silence was loud and obvious.
He hadn’t mistaken that look—a mix of want and trepidation. He’d seen it so often in other women.
But this was Kat. His Kat.
No, not his.
Annoyed, he lingered in the kitchen as she sat on the couch, until the unmistakable ping of his phone broke the silence.
He paused. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“My phone pinged.”
“That means the towers are working,” she said.
He frowned and then quickly strode over to his phone, flicking it on. She picked up hers and did the same, hurriedly scanning through the messages.
Disappointment curled in his belly as he read. Ridiculous. They couldn’t stay here forever. They needed to get back to their lives, to reality. Which meant work, test results. Press coverage.
He groaned softly, dragging a hand over his face. God, they’d have a field day with this trapped-alone-in-a-cyclone scenario. And Grace, she’d definitely want in on that story. Then there were Kat’s test results that frankly scared the crap out of him.
He glanced over and saw her staring intently at her phone and frowning. They’d all want a piece of her. She could
When she stirred, she felt his thigh beneath her cheek shift and tighten, and she had to clench her fists to stop herself from involuntarily stroking that hard muscle.
She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly as his hand suddenly left her hip to gently toy with her hair.
* * *
So soft. Marco heard her faint sigh, barely discernible against the rich baroque sound track. Yet his senses went on high alert at the sudden tension riding her back as he continued to stroke her hair, the silky chocolate strands twining around his fingers. The sudden urge to bury his face in that hair, breathe deep and never come up for air winded him.
“Marco?”
His name, warm and whispery on her lips, sent a bolt of heat to his groin.
“Yes?”
“You should stop.”
He didn’t pretend to fake ignorance. “I don’t think I can.”
She turned her head in his lap and he groaned under his breath. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him, and he couldn’t help himself. He needed to kiss her. Now.
So he did.
She had ample time to protest or move away, but she did neither, just watched him get closer and closer until his lips gently brushed over hers, tentative at first, then with more urgency.
Her sigh ended on a groan and told him everything he needed to know.
They spent long moments that way, just exploring each other’s mouths with lips, tongue and breath until Marco finally pulled back with a soft curse.
“What the hell is this, Kat?”
She stared up at him, eyes wide. “I have no clue. But...can we just...not talk about it?”
“Kat—”
“Please, Marco. With everything else going on, let’s just not...not analyze this.”
His hand skimmed over her jaw then down her neck to finally rest across her collarbone, a frankly possessive gesture that she ignored. “We’re going to have to at some point.”
She sighed. “I know. Just not now, okay?”
When she tentatively leaned up, lips seeking his, he pulled back, and for one brief second he saw her tense, as if preparing herself for rejection, and it just about killed him then and there. With a groan, he cupped her head and captured her lips in a deep kiss.
They kissed for ages, the rich music and French dialogue a sensual background that only flamed his need, urging him to do more, to touch, to possess.
He abruptly pulled back. “We should...”
She swallowed. “Stop?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
He heard her breath rattle as he studied her, taking in the curve of her lips, the mix of emotion in her darkened eyes. Did she...? Would he...?
Impossible.
Or was it?
“You’re right.”
He gently eased off the couch and moved away to the kitchen, leaving her in silence. She’d surely stop him, say something, if she thought any different, right?
But as he went through the motions of getting a drink, the silence was loud and obvious.
He hadn’t mistaken that look—a mix of want and trepidation. He’d seen it so often in other women.
But this was Kat. His Kat.
No, not his.
Annoyed, he lingered in the kitchen as she sat on the couch, until the unmistakable ping of his phone broke the silence.
He paused. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“My phone pinged.”
“That means the towers are working,” she said.
He frowned and then quickly strode over to his phone, flicking it on. She picked up hers and did the same, hurriedly scanning through the messages.
Disappointment curled in his belly as he read. Ridiculous. They couldn’t stay here forever. They needed to get back to their lives, to reality. Which meant work, test results. Press coverage.
He groaned softly, dragging a hand over his face. God, they’d have a field day with this trapped-alone-in-a-cyclone scenario. And Grace, she’d definitely want in on that story. Then there were Kat’s test results that frankly scared the crap out of him.
He glanced over and saw her staring intently at her phone and frowning. They’d all want a piece of her. She could
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