‘Are you scared of me, Bronte?’ he asked.
Those deep emerald eyes flashed to his and he saw surprise. Thank God.
‘No, of course not,’ she said, seeming genuinely perplexed and even a little guilty. Even if she didn’t have a damn thing to be guilty about. Unlike him.
Time to own it, Blackstone, and then start working on that charm offensive you’ve been planning for two solid weeks.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then sit down and I’ll get you a drink.’ He strode to the bar, grateful to have something to do with his hands.
This was a novel experience for him too, he realised. He’d never had to work to get a woman into his bed before now. Which was probably why he’d made such a monumental mess of this seduction two weeks ago. Letting his temper and his sexual frustration blind him to her needs, her nerves and her inexperience. That wasn’t going to happen again.
‘What would you like?’ he asked, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. Another first, he thought, as he downed the stiff drink in one and the shot of fire burned his throat to warm his belly.
He didn’t usually drink hard liquor, and certainly not while with a woman. He preferred to keep his instincts sharp. But right now dulling them wouldn’t be a bad move; his instincts were sharper than they needed to be with this woman. He had to take this slow and easy. He couldn’t risk scaring her off again. Or he might never get what he wanted. What they both wanted.
‘Wine? Beer? Something stronger?’ he asked when she didn’t reply.
The guilty flush spread up to her hairline. ‘Um...something soft, please. Water?’
He nodded and selected a bottle of Scottish mineral water from the fridge. He unscrewed the top, popped it in the trash and then poured the liquid into a glass. Taking his time, he sat in the seat opposite her and handed her the glass.
Their fingertips brushed and he felt a jolt. She jerked her hand away, sloshing water over her wrist, then took a hasty gulp.
He had to hold back a smile.
Good to know.
She still felt it too. The desire which was already tying his guts in knots. All he had to do was show her that what she felt for him didn’t have to be dangerous or complicated. It was simply a strong biological connection.
He knew that, she didn’t, because she’d never had this connection with anyone else. Well, hell, neither had he. Nothing this strong anyway. But at least he knew how to handle it. And how much pleasure they could get out of it. But first he had to dismantle the defences she’d erected—then prove to her what he was proposing was a great deal more flexible than he’d let her believe.
He watched her drink the water, the sight of her throat working as she swallowed sending another jolt of lust to his groin—which was probably perverse, but everything about this woman turned him on.
‘I have a proposition for you,’ he said.
Her eyes flashed to his, igniting his senses even more.
‘I can’t be your mistress,’ she said, her distress all too obvious from the hectic colour staining her cheekbones. But her choice of words—can’t, not don’t want to be—gave him an opening. An opening he intended to exploit if he could.
‘And I can’t stop you from threatening to take Nico away from me either,’ she said, blinking furiously. ‘But I have something to....’
‘Bronte, don’t say any more.’ He cut her off, the renewed wave of guilt unprecedented as he caught the sheen of moisture in her eyes. ‘You misunderstood me. I didn’t threaten to sue for custody of Nico because I wanted you to sleep with me.’
Damn, he had really screwed this up.
‘Then why did you say it?’ she asked, not looking convinced.
‘I panicked,’ he admitted, feeling like a fool.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, as forthright as always. ‘What did you panic about?’
Leaning forward, he threaded his fingers together, not quite able to look at her as he was forced to break his golden rule and explain himself.
‘You threatened to remove him and yourself from the house in Regent’s Park. I can’t let you do that. But whether or not you were willing to sleep with me had no bearing on that.’
‘Why can’t you let me?’ she asked
without a hint of sarcasm.