This time she saw a glint of humour in his midnight gaze and that was almost as enticing as the raw carnality of the picture he’d painted. The man turned her inside out and they were still fully clothed.
He took her to a vast bedroom overlooking the harbour. In the distance she caught sight of a group of yachts, spinnakers billowing. But it was a fleeting glimpse because nothing was nearly as fascinating as Conall.
Even the wide bed with its pale cover was a blurred impression as she held onto his shoulders and he lowered her, impossibly slowly, down his body. As a show of core body strength it was impressive, but then wasn’t everything about this man?
For a fleeting moment earlier she’d wondered if she were doing the right thing, admitting her desire. But it was inevitable. Where Conall was concerned there was no choice, there was only him. From the moment they’d met it had been true and her feelings only grew more powerful with time. Now what she felt was a compulsion.
She spared a thought for the future, for how they’d work together after this, but she trusted him when he said it would be okay. They’d find a way. And while her career was incredibly important to her, she’d come to suspect that Conall, and the connection between them, meant more.
That should be scary. It probably would be later. But for now it just felt right in a way nothing else had since she’d woken in hospital, broken.
‘Greer.’ His low voice reverberated through her. ‘Are you changing your mind?’
‘No!’
His grin made him look suddenly boyish, delighted and… Was that relief?
‘Unless,’ she sent him a teasing look under lowered lashes, ‘you’ve changed your mind about what you can deliver. If you don’t think you can live up to your promises…’
Hands loose on her hips, he leaned forward, gaze drilling into hers. His voice was soft and his breath a warm caress that made her lips tingle and her nipples bud. ‘It’s going to be an absolute pleasure delivering on those promises. For both of us.’
It took all she had to stand and not melt into a puddle of pure longing at his feet.
‘I’ll give you this, Mr Abercrombie, you can talk the talk.’
‘But can I deliver?’ His lips brushed her forehead, her cheeks, her closed eyes as he slipped the jacket from her shoulders.
Already she was burning up, lit from within by the fire this man ignited so effortlessly. Amnesia or not, she was sure no other man had ever held such power over her. As the daughter of a single mother who’d crossed the country to avoid her dangerous partner, Greer had always been cautious, not wanting to be vulnerable to any man.
She didn’t feel vulnerable with Conall, she decided as he plucked her buttons undone with deft fingers. More like powerful. And powerfully aroused.
She dragged her hands down his torso and grabbed his polo shirt, yanking it up and free of his jeans. Seconds later her palms spanned the silky hot skin of his waist in proper skin-to-skin contact. Finally she managed to drag a full breath into sorely worked lungs. Her fingers moulded and skimmed, circling then returning, exploring.
Those firm ridges of muscle, the taut planes and intriguing dips were the best kind of braille.
Except, despite his assurance, Conall grew impatient. Big, gentle hands brushed her shirt from her shoulders, moving her hands from his body.
She made a sound of disappointment, as if he’d stolen her favourite toy. Her bottom lip pouted at the interruption.
‘Soon, I promise.’ The words feathered against her throat as he tugged the material down her arms and away.
Suddenly she didn’t mind so much because he looked spellbound as he ravished her with his gaze. Her bare skin tightened, her breasts seeming to swell under that avaricious stare.
‘I need more.’ His arms went around her, hands reaching for her skirt’s zip.
‘So do I,’ she purred, pushing up his shirt.
It bunched under her hands as she revealed more and more of that sculpted torso. His skin was darker than hers and across his chest was a fuzz of hair that, when she brushed it with her fingers, yanked white-hot threads tight between her aching breasts and her womb.
Greer swayed closer, inhaling his clean male scent as she kissed a line up his torso then licked his nipple and felt him shudder. Abruptly his hands moved from her zip, shoving her skirt down her hips before reaching to reef off his shirt.
‘That’s better,’ she sighed, kissing her way across his broad chest and up to his collarbone. He tasted like every of erotic fantasy she’d ever known.
‘It is,’ he growled in a voice that seemed to vibrate from deep inside him. His chest rose and spread under her palms where they rested above his ribs, soaking up the delicious vibrations. ‘But not as good as this.’
With one quick movement he undid her bra, tugging it down her arms, lifting her hands from his body long enough to strip the lacy fabric off her. Then he pulled her to him, bare torso to bare torso, and something erupted inside her.
‘Conall!’
