She giggled.
“What?”
“Your cologne.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it. It’s just that I picture you lurking in shadowsand fog, not buying cologne under harsh department store lights.”
“And I picture you in candlelight.”
“You do?” Her voice sounded squeaky, and she cringed.
He leaned forward, his mouth near her ear. “Naked in the candlelight.” Barely a whisper, his words stirred her. Her knees went weak, her body liquid.
As if he knew her most intimate thoughts, he curved his arm around her waist, supporting her. “Tell me you want me, too, Kyra. Tell me you want me and make my fantasy come true.”
His fantasy?
She tilted her head back, wanting to read the truth in his eyes. Could she of all people really be the object of someone’s fantasy? The thought had never even occurred to her and she found the possibility to be flattering, even exciting.
But she wasn’t at all sure it was true. She wasn’t even entirely certain he was a guest, and not staff, on the island.
Still, when she looked into his eye, when she watched the expression dance on the shadows covering his face, she saw only desire reflected there. Desire so intense, that her breath actually caught in her throat.
“Kyra?”
She nodded, mute, then fought to find her voice.
“Yes,” she finally said. “Yes, I want you, too.”
