Isabel’s body went hot.
Here she stood, in the middle of this room,exposed, the sole focus of this man who was now looking at her like he could devour her whole.
Who needed an external heat source? Her internal one was up to the task.
“You should turn and run,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be the logical course?”
Yes, she should sayyes, but the word stuck in her throat and her feet remained rooted to the floor.
“You see, Isabel, a shift occurs inside me when my control is broken and my addiction unleashed.” He unfurled his long, lean body and rose. “I do nothing by half measures.” He took a step forward, more of a prowl. Now nine feet separated them. “My appetite for privation is equal only to my appetite for pleasure.” Another step.Eight feet.“A wickedness courses through my veins.”
“Oh,” Isabel breathed.
Why, oh, why wouldn’t her legs move? As quick as she thought it, she knew the answer.
Because they didn’t want to.
She trembled and quaked, oh, yes, but not from fear.
“I want”—seven . . . six—“and I want”—five . . . four—“and I want.”
Two more steps, and he stopped a foot shy of her. He tucked his thumb beneath her chin and lifted. Her eyes had no choice but to meet his.
“That wanting had been under control until . . .” he trailed.
“Until?”
A dark smile lit within his eyes, curled about his mouth. “Untilyou.”
“Are you trying to frighten me away?” It was possible.
“Not anymore.”
His hand formed a light caress. She swayed forward, into his touch. Her eyes opened—when had they closed?—to find his steady upon her.
“Is that all you do?” she asked. For some reason, she wanted to push him.
He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Think of your own wants?” She threw the question at him like a challenge.
The air went electric. His eyes narrowed. She’d intrigued him. Head canted subtly to the side, he took her measure, deciding if she meant what she’d said.
Her every last cell pulsed with sincerity.
“The pleasure I give is equal to the pleasure I receive, I can assure you.” He closed the remaining distance between them. The banked heat of his body reached out to her. “Shall I demonstrate?” he asked on a low rumble. “Would youdieif I don’t?”
He was tossing her words back at her. “I think I would.”
Now, if only he woulddemonstrate.
He cupped the nape of her neck, his head angling as he drew into her. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the press of his mouth against hers. Instead, his lips touched her ear, raising goose bumps along her skin, tightening her nipples into hard buds.
“For example,” came his hot whisper, “I take great pleasure from kissingthissensitive bit of skin.” His lips touched her neck, and she gasped. She felt the scratchy brush of his smile. “I believe your pleasure to be commensurate with mine. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
She grabbed his shoulders for support, tense muscles bunched beneath her fingers, and angled her head to allow him more access as he trailed kisses down its length.
She wouldn’t be correcting him anytime soon.
