His eyebrows rose, the evidence that he hadn’t been 100 per cent sure of her answer making her even more sure of her decision. Maybe he wasn’t quite as arrogant as he seemed either.
‘You’re sure?’ he asked.
She nodded.
He stood and stepped over the coffee table, then grasped her trembling fingers in one firm hand and tugged her to her feet. He cupped her cheek, let his fingers delve into her hair as he angled her head for his mouth, then stopped inches from completing the kiss she already yearned for beyond reason.
‘You need to say the words, Bronte, before I can kiss you,’ he commanded softly.
She felt a smile curve her lips, tremulous, determined and only slightly terrified.
‘Are you going to keep telling me what to do? Because if you are, I may change my mind,’ she found herself saying, not sure where the strength to tease him came from, but impossibly pleased with the result when his lips drew another millimetre closer.
‘No, you won’t,’ he said, the smile in his voice impossibly alluring. ‘Because I won’t let you.’
She had only a moment to gasp in mock outrage before his mouth was on hers—taking, demanding, tempting. The rich taste of the bourbon shattered the last of her defences as he licked across the seam of her lips. She kissed him back, letting the excitement surge as he explored her mouth in masterful strokes.
She swayed and firm hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as his lips travelled down to the pulse point in her neck to nip and suck and drive her wild.
She was panting, breathing so heavily she was scared she might start to hyperventilate, as his hands travelled up her back, gliding under the soft cotton of her camisole. His thumbs toyed with the peaks of her breasts, the nipples tightening into throbbing points even through the fabric of her bra. She arched into the caress, desperate to feel his touch on naked flesh, annoyed by the clothes inhibiting them.
‘Please, I... Can you take off my bra?’ she stammered, the colour flooding her cheeks when he drew back and her whole body shuddered in protest—and unrequited need.
Dropping his hands from her breasts, he cupped her cheeks.
Humiliation swept through her when a smile tugged at those firm sensual lips. Had she actually just begged him to take off her bra?
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you orders.’ Or sound so desperate, she thought when his smile became more pronounced.
He chuckled, the sound rusty. ‘You don’t have to
apologise for telling me what you want.’
‘Oh... Well, good,’ she said, feeling ridiculous. Insecurity flooded her. ‘But why did you stop then?’
His dark eyes flashed with a fire so intense she felt scalded.
‘I’m not stopping, but how about we slow down?’
She wasn’t sure it was a question but she nodded anyway, mesmerised by the gruff note of need. She hadn’t turned him off. This was good.
He lifted her hand to his lips then kissed the knuckles, and each of her fingers in turn. The act was tender, reverential, but also carnal. Her heart lurched in her chest as heat bloomed in her abdomen.
He laved the webbing between her fingers, mapped the tracery of veins on the back of her hand, tested the swell of flesh beneath her thumb with his teeth and finally planted his lips on the pulse point pounding in her wrist.
She gasped and squirmed as the shock wave of sensation speared through her body.
Who knew her hand was an erogenous zone?
Grasping her fingers—limp now with desire—he tugged her against him and wrapped her hand around his back until her whole body softened against the hard lines of his. The powerful jut of his erection, outlined against her stomach, sent a quiver of reaction arrowing down.
‘FYI,’ he whispered against her hair, tracing the shell of her ear with that deviously coaxing tongue, ‘you couldn’t turn me off if you tried.’
She leaned back, a little horrified that he had been able to read her doubts so easily. But what she saw in his face—the rigid control, accompanied by wry amusement and unadulterated need—sent a betraying shudder of excitement through her.
You’re not lying to him about the baby...you’re simply delaying telling him the truth.
Clasping her hand, he led her towards the bedroom suite, which was flooded with natural light from the late autumn sunset.