Chapter 11
Emily’s smile fell the instant she turned and saw the man, the myth, the legend himself leaning against the doorjamb. Christian’s booted feet were crossed at the ankle, his strong arms folded, and his eyes were like the sky before a tornado strike. Green. Ominous.Threatening.
And there it is. That patented scowl.
Rusty took one look at Christian’s face and said, “I,uh, I think I’ll go look to see if I have any dry clothes.” She felt the breeze of his departure when he exited the room.The cowardly weenus!
After he disappeared, she returned Christian’s glower. “What did I tell you?” She planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t speak glare-ish.”
“How can you bloody well brush it off like that?” His accent was low and smooth. Hearing it had everythinginside her going liquid and heavy.
“Brush what off?” Oh, for the love of Adam Eaton. What had happened to her voice? It didn’t sound like her own. It was far too breathless.
“That kiss.Thekiss.”
Ho-kay. So theyweregoing to talk about it.
“I wasn’t brushing it off. It’s just…what’s there to say, you know?” She tried to make her shrug look casual.
“Indeed not.” He shook hishead. “Why don’t you explain it to me.”
She spread her hands. “It was the heat of the moment. And like you said, you haven’t gotten a little strange in a long time. Your adrenaline was high. I’d just placed myself in front of what might have been a bullet meant for you. It stands to reason you were grateful, overcome, and you’d have lip-locked anyone in that moment.”
She tried to readhis thoughts in his eyes, but he was being irritatingly stingy with them. Finally, he said, “You really believe that?”
“Should I not? You’re the one who looked like you’d gotten your nuts caught in a vise after you kissed me. And if memory serves, you’realsothe one who apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again.”
His eyes traveled over her face, past the curve of her cheek, alightingon her lips, which throbbed and opened as if his gaze were a physical touch. Then his scrutiny dipped lower, skimming down her chest and over the subtle slope of her breasts.
She wasn’t mistaken. His nostrils flared. The hands curled loosely around his biceps clenched. Then he met her gaze head-on, and suddenly she felt filled with a delicious secret she had no business knowing.
“Do youfancyit happening again?” he asked.
There was a strange buzzing in her ears. Had someone opened a window and let a bee into the room? “Better question is, doyoufancy it happening again?”
“I asked you first, Emily.”
“I asked you second, Christian.” She was never one to be outdone.
He grunted, his expression telegraphing annoyance. “For once, would it be possible for us to carryon a conversation that didn’t sink to the level of six-year-olds?”
Tall order. The man brought out her baser self. She was all emotion and impulse with him.
“MaybeI’d want it to happen again,” she admitted. Hell,whywas she admitting this? Oh yeah. With him, she liked playing with fire. “If only to prove that I have far more skill than that poor showing in the parking lot. You caughtme off guard. I didn’t have time to demonstrate my oral expertise. And I’m not the kind of woman who likes the thought of not—”
Her words died in her throat. She tried to resuscitate them, but his decidedly wicked smile obliterated any hope she had of getting the conversation back on track.
He made everything so much worse when he pushed away from the doorframe and walked toward her. Ittook every ounce of willpower she possessed to hold her ground. It was like being stalked by a sleek, dark panther. There was danger in every one of his muscles. Her instincts yelled for her to run.
When he stopped in front of her, she had to tilt her chin up to look at him. It was either that or stumble back, which her pride refused to let her do. She pasted on an expression she hoped wasfull of bravado. Her quirked brow silently asked,What’s up?
His hitched chin answered,You tell me.
But she couldn’t tell him anything. Because she couldn’t think straight. Not with him so close. Not with that whorl of hair falling over his brow. Not with the scent of him—all warm wool, earthy aftershave, and that indefinable aroma that was healthy man—filling her head and making herdizzy.
So slowly she could feel every crashing beat of her heart against her breastbone, he cupped her jaw and feathered his thumb over her bottom lip. Lightning crackled beneath her skin at the point of contact. Every muscle in her body forgot what it was made for and loosened. She stumbled toward him, grabbing his biceps for balance.
He had removed his coat, but still wore his silk sweater.The fabric was mostly dry, thanks in large part to his immense body heat, and it fit him like a glove.
