‘No!’ The swift denial reassured. As did the self-aware twitch of her mobile mouth, as if she couldn’t find it in herself to pretend. ‘Thank you. A drink would be lovely.’
Rosanna didn’t do casual flings.
She didn’t kiss total strangers.
So how did she come to be plastered against this handsome stranger, her heart thundering in her chest, trying to get still closer to all that luxurious masculine heat?
Even with one strong arm lashed around her waist, his other hand supporting the back of her head as he delved deep into her mouth, she didn’t feel close enough.
Even with their tongues tangling, their breathing laboured, heat searing everywhere they touched, she wanted more. So much more.
Rosanna clutched his shoulders with needy hands. She arched, pressing her breasts up against that hard chest, and heard a soft sound, like a growl of approval in the back of his throat, that sent excitement skating through her.
She’d never, in all her twenty-six years, been kissed like this. Or responded so. Such desperate hunger was new and exhilarating.
Fleetingly Phil came to mind. But her brain instantly shied away.
Instead came flashes from tonight.
This man’s casual good humour.
The teasing dark gleam of his eyes as they chatted about everything and nothing while inside the other guests partied. The sound of his cut-glass consonants melded with a lilting undercurrent that turned his voice into flagrant temptation.
The way helistenedto her, even as his eyes dared her to live in the moment.
When had a man ever seduced her with his humour and insight? With wit and charm and that dark, sizzlingsomethingthat reached out and curled around her insides, tugging, tugging, tugging at her until she’d given in and moved closer.
That first touch, hand to hand, that had sent electricity arcing to her breasts and lower, to the place between her legs that pulsed with blatant hunger.
She would have drawn back then, scared by the sudden conflagration inside her. Except she’d seen him frown as if he hadn’t expected this full-on slam of need either.
Her hand had somehow drifted to his chest and he’d lifted it from there to his mouth. Her knees had loosened at the sight and feel of his lips on her skin and he’d gathered her close.
Rosanna tilted her head, eagerly shifting against him until he slid his hand down through her hair, past her shoulder and under the lapel of her jacket. Long fingers brushed the spangled fabric of her top, so incredibly slowly she couldn’t tell if he gave her time to object or wanted to torture her with longing.
Finally, in desperation, she covered his hand with hers and slid it down to cover her breast.
Lights spun behind her closed eyelids as he cupped her there. His thumb brushed her peaking nipple and she shuddered, clutching at him. Then he squeezed gently and everything inside melted as darts of fire rayed out from his touch. Her desperate gasp tasted of him, champagne, exotic spice and sensuality.
Rosanna gave thanks to the overzealous maid who had offered to launder her blouse and accidentally scooped up her bra while Rosanna showered. The feel of his hard, gentle, capable hand massaging her braless breast through a thin layer of fabric was bliss.
He gathered her closer. She felt the rigidity in his tall frame and the hard shaft of arousal now pressed against her belly.
Heat poured through her. Her flesh prickled. She wanted to be skin to skin against him. A tiny part of her brain registered surprise but she didn’t care.
Rosanna’s hand went to the soft silk of his formal bow tie and—
‘Excuse me, sir.’
They froze. She felt her companion’s fingers tighten reflexively and even that felt good. So good her inner muscles clenched needily.
For one heartbeat, two, neither moved. Then he raised his head. For a moment she felt his breath as a caress across her face. Dark eyes glittered down at her with a promise that weakened something fundamental inside her.
How eagerly Rosanna wanted to accept that promise.
Then he straightened and tucked her in against his shoulder, as if to protect her from the view of the man behind him.
‘Yes? What is it?’