She should’ve left, should’ve ignored him when he called her back.
Uncomfortable, but still eager to prove her innocence—for the second time in three days—she blurted, “I didn’t do it.”
She expected him to glare down at her and growl, but he whispered, “I know.”
She raised her eyebrow in surprise. “If you know I’m innocent, why did you tell me to stay?”
Inquisitiveness slew the feline....
He looked up at her, and their gazes met over the desk.
“I need to apologize.”
She sighed. As much as she’d love to rub her innocence in his face, she felt sorry for him. For his loss.
“There’s no need to apologize. This painting obviously means a lot to you. If I were in your shoes, I’d be just as ready to jump on any scrap of evidence, and burn the first suspect at the stake.”
A look of shame flitted across his face. “I did that, didn’t I?”
She nodded, smiling crookedly.
His eyes twinkled with amusement, and then darkened with wicked intent.
Replacing the painting scrap on the desk, he came around and stood before her.
The room shrank.
Taller and much broader than her, he dwarfed her, but holy shit, shelikedit.
He took her hands and placed her trembling fingers against the hardness of his chest.
“Well, allow me to make a proper apology.”
When he spoke, his voice rumbled, and even sexier than that, she could feel his heartbeat, strong, and accelerating. How could something as physiologically necessary as a heartbeat be such a turn on?
He was just as affected by her closeness as she was his. Maybe if she looked anywhere but at him it wouldn’t get so hot in her dress.
She turned her face toward the door but gasped when rough, firm fingers gripped her chin. With a gentle pull, he brought them face to face. His lips were so close she could almost taste them. Damn, she wanted to. Still fearful of her incredible hunger, she let him maneuver her face, but she still refused to look him in the eye.
With one hand on her chin, and the other holding her fingers to his chest, he waited.
What was wrong with her? She’d never felt so vulnerable before.
Or so damn achy.
It was like she’d developed a fever of 104, her whole body on fire. Nothing could douse the flames ravaging her except his hands on her tits, and his mouth on her neck.
She fought back a moan.
She heard him breathing, but he didn’t say a word. Seconds passed, and still nothing.
What was he doing?
She couldn’t wait a second longer.
Taking a deep breath, and met his gaze.
Hot damn.
