“Are you always this difficult when someone tries to talk to you?”
“Only to those with a hand around my throat.”
His gaze shifted away from hers for a second then came back, unreadable as ever. “I wasn’t myself last night.”
Thatwas an apology?Her eyebrow arched, but on an inherent level, the knowledge trickled into her that it was the best she’d get from a hard man like him. She let it drop.
Eve knew it wasn’t fear that had her reacting to him in such a defiant manner, but something else she didn’t want to name.
He studied the sculpture she’d dumped on him. “What is this?”
“A sample I did for Eric.”
His gaze flickered back to her. “You’re an artist.”
“A sculptor. I’ll have my own show soon.” Eve cringed at what must sound like a weak attempt to issue an invitation. As if he’d want to come. She stuck her sore finger in her mouth—or at least she had attempted to when he grabbed her hand.
Her heart tripped. She hadn’t even seen him move around the desk. “It’s just—”
“A scratch. So you said. Let me.”
Before she could figure out what he meant, his mouth closed around her finger. Her breath tangled in her throat, her gaze trapped by his. A blue flame flickered in those dark depths. She forgot about her scars as his warm tongue lapped at the tiny wound, caught in a whirlpool of sensations.
Oh, dear God!Need roared to life, lighting a fuse that led directly to the most feminine part of her.
Struggling to tamp down the wayward desires, Eve tugged her hand free and clutched the desk to support her shaky limbs. She didn’t even know his name, and she’d already been more intimate with him than any man.
“Why–why did you do that?” she croaked.
He shook his head. His fists bunched, then he shoved them into his pants pockets. “My name’s Reynner. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
Amusement tugged his lips. “Why so suspicious?”
Dear Lord—that smile! Before she did something mortifying like grab him and take a bite of his sexy mouth, she said, “Talk fast.”
His brow climbed up. “I can't ‘talk fast’ about this.”
Snorting, Eve brushed past him and walked out from the office. She needed her friends. Maybe Kataya and Brenna would slap some common sense back into her head.
As she made her way down the short corridor, Eve struggled to remain composed—a darn difficult thing to do when his quiet presence behind her tugged at her like a magnet.
Relief flooded her as she entered the gallery and spied Brenna and Kataya heading her way.
“There you are. We’ve been looking for you—” Kataya broke off, glancing behind Eve in shock.
“I…umm, I got detained.”
“Eve?”
No touching, just her name in his lightly accented voice, and it put the brakes on her flight response. Her friends did a perfect impression of two landed guppies.
“It’s important.” His low tone stroked her senses like a warm caress.
Oh, heck, she was in so much trouble. She flicked a quick look at him over her shoulder and met his dark blue stare. Yes, the man was a stranger, but one who called to her on an intrinsic level. It left her with little choice but a burning need to find out what it was about him that affected her in this way. And he said he wanted to talk. “Okay.”
Eve turned to her dumbstruck friends, and introduced them. “These are my friends, Kataya and Brenna,” she told him. “Kat, Bren, this is Reynner.”
