Billionaire With a Twist(17)

He tugged gently on my hand, and led me down a narrow hallway, through a gap in the walls of stacked boxes emitting the soothing smells of chamomile and old cloth. He shifted so that I led, his warm hands on my shoulders steering me ably through the dark.

Such warm hands. Their heat radiated through my shirt, and I felt his breath ghosting over my ear, as if any second now he might lean down and—

“We import the tea from Singapore,” he murmured.

“Oh,” I whispered, shivering involuntarily. It was hard to think of anything else to say with my heart pounding so hard. Was I imagining the way his fingers tightened slightly on my shoulders? Was that a slight caress as his finger swept downward an inch towards my collarbone, rustling my blouse, or was I daydreaming?

Probably. I was definitely probably reading too much into it. I tried to even out my breathing, hoped he couldn’t feel me tremble under his gentle touch. I resolved to banish all thoughts of that night we’d spent together in my hotel room and focus on the business at hand, but the low throb pulsing between my legs was undeniable.

“Stop.” And his arm encircled my waist, sending a jolt through me as I stumbled to a halt, his strong body pressing up against mine, there in the half-darkness where no one knew we were, where no one would see if he were to pull me even closer, if he were to bend his lips to my neck, if his hands were to wander from my waist to my breasts or down my thighs—

He pulled away.

“It’s right here.”

It took several embarrassingly long seconds for me to realize that he was talking about his secret snack hoard.

I watched, squinting through the dimness, as he jimmied away the back of a cabinet to reveal a small tin, just starting to rust at the edges. Watching him, the careful care he took, the way his eyes lit as he picked it up, I was filled with an overwhelming gratitude for the trust he was showing me.

Because this was private. This was a secret. This was something very nearly sacred to him, I could see that in his eyes, and he was sharing it with me.

And I had no idea what I could have done to deserve that honor.

He opened the lid and looked at me almost shyly, his hair falling into his eyes. “It’s not much…”

I took his hand. His hands were so large and capable; why did I feel so much like I wanted to take care of him in this moment? He didn’t need anyone to take care of him. But I wanted to. “It’s perfect.”

A flash of white in the shadows as he smiled. “You haven’t even looked.”

We were both whispering. I wasn’t sure why; the house was so big that we might as well have been in another county as far as the staff were concerned. But the darkness and the secrecy and the soft touches somehow made this moment illicit and stolen and not to be spoken aloud.

“I trust you,” I murmured.

There was a pause as Hunter took in my words. “Thank you,” he finally said.

My hand was still on his. As if they had a will of their own, my fingers began to stroke his palm—I blushed, glad that the poor light would hide it, and pulled away under the pretense of selecting a snack.

The tin was small, but it held a solid assortment of sweets, dried jerky, and home-made trail mix. I chose a chocolate in a bright green foil and unwrapped it, the foil rustling like a secret waiting to be told. When I bit down, a sweet cognac liquor burst across my taste buds, and I couldn’t keep from groaning in ecstasy.

Hunter laughed.

“Hey, you try eating this and not expressing your appreciation!” I shot back at him in a whisper, waving the chocolate in his face.

He raised an eyebrow at me, and then he bit right down on the chocolate in my hand, his soft lips just moistening the tips of my fingers.

I froze.

Calling all doctors, calling all doctors, Allison Bartlett’s heart has just stopped cold.

His rakish grin set my blood on fire as he leaned forward and carefully licked a smudge of chocolate from my thumb.

I swallowed, hard.

“Not bad,” he allowed. “But I think you’ll really like this much better.”

He unwrapped another chocolate, and slipped it between my lips. My eyes fell closed as the sweet taste of butterscotch melted across my tongue, and a little sound of perfect contentment escaped my chest in a sigh.

My tongue darted out to catch the last of the taste against his skin, and I could hear his breath catch in his throat, and my blood quickened further. I could feel my own heart pounding, blood rushing through my veins, warmth pooling between my legs as my arousal tightened within me like a spiral, my nipples suddenly hard against my silk bra, wanting his hands on them instead.

My eyelids parted slowly, and I was gazing up into his eyes, so dark with desire in that dim hallway that I could no longer see the line between his irises and pupils. They were only dark and determined, the golden light no longer dancing playfully in them but serious as anything I had ever seen.

He leaned closer, and I could taste the chocolate on his breath, as intoxicating as his gaze, I could so very nearly taste his lips—

I can’t let him kiss me.

Not with so much riding on this job.

So much for both of us.

I broke away before we made contact, stumbling backwards in my haste to save us from the dastardly destruction of our own hormones.

“I should shower before dinner!” I thanked God and also Jesus for the humidity that made this lie less obvious. “I didn’t think of that before but I should definitely shower and we’ve already used up ten minutes!” I was babbling as I backed away, but the words kept spilling out, trying to construct a wall between us so I wouldn’t take a step back towards him, wouldn’t soothe away that worried furrow in his brow with my hands, wouldn’t kiss him so hard that he— “So I’ll barely have time and I’m totally gross so I should really take all the time I can, glad you understand, you’re great see you later, bye!”