A Facade to Shatter(10)

He thought she was going to cry, but she got to her feet suddenly, her eyes blazing, her chin thrusting in the air, though he could see that it still trembled. Her hands were fists at her sides.

“Even then, the only reaction I arouse in you is pity. I’m naked in front of a man and all he thinks about is the quickest way to get rid of me—so you will excuse me if I fail to cower before this latest pronouncement!”

Zach could only stare at her, mesmerized. He’d have sworn she was going to cry, sworn she would blubber and fall apart—but she hadn’t. She was staring at him now, two high red spots on her cheeks, her dark auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes flashing fire. The robe had slipped open a bit, exposing the inside of a creamy thigh.

Lust flooded him until he had to react or explode. He meant to turn away, meant to put distance between them. Hell, he meant to walk out of the room and not come back—

But instead, he closed the distance between them, gripped her shoulders as he bent toward her.

“Pity is the last thing I feel for you, Lia,” he grated, still determined in some part of his brain to push her away before it was too late.

But then he tugged her closer, until she pressed against him, until she’d have to be stupid not to know what he was thinking about right now.

She gasped, and a skein of hot need uncoiled within him.

“Does this feel like pity?” he growled, his hands sliding down to grip her hips and pull her fully into him.

Her eyes grew large in her lovely face, liquid. For the barest of moments, he thought she seemed too innocent, too sweet. But then she reached up and put a palm to his cheek. Her thumb ghosted over his lips. He couldn’t suppress a shudder of longing.

“No,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It doesn’t.”

He thought there was a note of wonder in her voice, but he ignored it and pressed on, sliding a hand around to cup her round bottom. She wasn’t fat, the stupid woman. She was curvaceous, with generously proportioned boobs and hips that other women could only envy.

“Is this what you want, Lia?” he asked, dipping his head, sliding his lips along her cheek in surrender to the hot feelings pounding through him.

Her only answer was a soft gasp. Desire scorched into him, hammered in his veins. He’d wanted her to go back to her room, wanted to remove the temptation when he had no idea what might happen if he had sex with her, but now that she was in his arms, sending her away had suddenly become impossible.

Her arms went around his neck, and he shuddered. She should be frightened of him after what had happened in the ballroom, but she showed no fear whatsoever. Then again, he had been the one to pull her from the water. Perhaps that redeemed him somewhat in her eyes.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked against the soft skin of her throat.

“I’m only afraid you’ll stop,” she said, and he squeezed her to him in reaction as emotions overwhelmed him.

He wanted to tell her not to trust him, wanted to tell her to run far and fast, that he could give her nothing more than a night of passion. He wanted to, but he couldn’t find the voice right now. Not when what he so desperately wanted to do was slide his tongue into her mouth and see if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

Zach drew back just enough to see her face. Her eyes were closed, dark lashes fanning her cheekbones, and her pink lips parted on a sigh. She arched her body into his and heat streaked through him. It had been so long. Too long …

He shouldn’t do this. He really shouldn’t. He didn’t know this woman at all.

But it felt like he did. Like he’d known her for ages.

With a groan, Zach fell headlong into temptation.





CHAPTER THREE



AS ZACH’S MOUTH came down on hers, Lia’s first thought was to freeze. Her second was to melt into his kiss. She’d been kissed before, but nothing like this. Nothing with this kind of heat or raw passion. He wanted her. He really wanted her. This was not a dream, or a fever, or an illusion. This was a man—a hot, mysterious, dangerous man—and he wanted her, Lia Corretti.

His tongue slid against hers, and she shivered with longing. She didn’t really know what she was doing—but she knew how it was supposed to feel, how she was supposed to react.

And she had no problem reacting. Lia arched into him, met his tongue eagerly, if somewhat inexpertly. She just hoped he didn’t realize it.

The kiss was hot, thrilling, stomach-churning in a good way. Her body ached with the sudden need to feel more than this. To feel everything.