She swallowed thickly. What had occurred in the backseat of that car had become a hovering three-ton elephant for her, and yet he mentioned it so casually. She stared up at his face, spellbound. His fingertips moved, stroking her throat lightly, and then her jaw, holding her stare the whole time. Her flesh lit up beneath his touch, sending a cascade of sensation through her body, making the hair on her nape stand on end. She couldn’t unglue her gaze from the outline of his mouth. It’d gotten closer somehow as she looked up at him, although she’d never seen him lean down. His fingers caressed her temple. When they sunk into her hair, it was with a greedier, more forceful gesture. She couldn’t prevent shuddering at the sensation of his fingertips skimming her scalp.
“I wasn’t preoccupied while I was in France because I was thinking about Cristina,” he said, his mouth slanting into a frown as he stared down at her. “I was distracted from my business because I kept thinking about you.”
“Oh,” she said thickly.
“I’m not telling you that I was wrong the other night. Everything I said was true. I take what I want. I am selfish.”
“Then why did you walk away that night?” Emma challenged quietly.
He fisted her hair. He looked quite fierce. “I’m not walking away now, so don’t imagine that I’m something I’m not. And never be so stupid as to think I’m noble. Do you understand me?”
“I . . . I think so. You want to have an affair with me? Or a one-night stand, is that what you want?”
His gaze traveled over her face. She found herself wondering what he saw there.
“As much as I want you, it’s going to take more than just one night,” he stated grimly. “You’ve done something to me. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t sleep. I’m having trouble eating,” he said, his gaze narrowing as her lips parted in wonder.
Michael Montand wanted her so much that he couldn’t rest. It struck her as strange. Surreal.
“I’m aware that I’m not what you deserve,” he continued. “But I don’t do long-term relationships, Emma. I’m sorry for that, in your case, more than I ever have been in my life. But I don’t want to lie to you. Plus, I have to travel a lot—lately nearly every week, with a big racing event I’ve sponsored happening very soon. Do you want me enough to take the risk, knowing all those things?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
He studied her closely. “I’m not used to doing this. I know that you’re young and vulnerable, though, so I’m trying.”
“I’m not vulnerable. And I’m not that young.”
“I disagree. But it doesn’t matter anymore. If this keeps up . . .” he looked bewildered, even a little wild. “I don’t know what’ll happen. As long as I know you exist out there somewhere, I’ll want you. The only possible thing that would stop me is if you told me no. Are you sure you want to agree to this?”
She nodded.
“Why?” he demanded, stepping closer to her. “Why are you sure?”
“Because you’re beautiful,” she said, trapped in a spell of honesty, ensnared by his eyes. “And because I can’t stop thinking about you, either. And . . .”
“What?” he said, cradling her head in the palm of his hand, the gesture striking her as both tender and possessive. His head lowered toward hers.
“Because it’s something I’ve never had before. The sparks,” she whispered.
He swooped down and captured her mouth, the force and heat of him thrilling her. His other hand rose to her jaw, holding her in place. Her entire focus narrowed to the feeling of him. He parted her lips with his tongue, and her world became his taste. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a conquering one, a claiming without caution or apology. Yet the way he held her head and dipped his tongue between her lips made her feel precious somehow, like she was a treat he wanted to savor before he devoured her. He held her firmly, his clear, fixed intent to take his fill arousing her deeply. Her flesh softened in a way she’d never experienced, went warm and liquid and ready for him in seconds.
He lifted his head a moment later.
“As long as you understand,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I see no reason to prolong this. I won’t wait a minute longer.”
* * *
“Where are we going?” she asked in confusion when he led her down the stairs to the lake a moment later, her hand in his, the sound of waves hitting the beach growing louder in her ears.
“To the beach. You’re flushed. You must be warm. You could use a swim,” he said briskly.
“I wasn’t flushed because of the heat,” she muttered under her breath. She hadn’t meant for him to hear her, but knew he had when he squeezed her hand. She heard his soft laugh. His amused understanding helped steady her in the face of what was to come.
A nearly full moon reflected off the white sand beach, lighting up the night to a surprising degree. He led her off the deserted public beach, however, toward the rocky shoreline to the north. Visibility was poorer here without the white expanse of sand, but her eyes had accustomed to the glowing moon and starlight. The lake was relatively calm tonight, the waves caressing the shore in a hushed, silken rhythm. She could make out the shape of piled rocks to the left and Montand’s dark, compelling form walking next to her. Neither of them spoke, the sense of anticipation building to an almost smothering degree.
He paused next to a black pile of rock and moved behind her.
His dark, solid shadow lowered. She realized he’d sat down. She plopped down next to him when he pulled on her hand, a surprised laugh popping out of her throat. They sat on the relatively flat surface of a rock, facing the lake.