“I’m not the type of woman men fall for.”
“I’ve fallen for you.”
Heat flooded her system. She forced herself to breathe, to keep her eyes locked with his. “No you haven’t. You …”
He pushed off the mantel and stepped in her direction. “I—what?”
“Never mind.”
“Finish the sentence, Isabeau.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then let me.” He closed the distance between them. “You were going to say I haven’t fallen for you, weren’t you? You actually believe him? That you’re nothing more to me than convenient?”
Her pulse throbbed thick and hard. Heat radiated off his body. The scent of him filled her head. She wanted, more than anything, to press herself against him and relive the pleasure of his mouth against hers. Instead, she lifted her chin.
“Maybe.”
He leaned in close. So close his breath brushed across her lips. “You believe him, but not me?”
“You are here only temporarily.”
“Yes.”
“And I am just down the street.”
“I suppose.”
She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “So the whole thing does seem rather—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—convenient.”
Something dangerous came and went in his eyes. “Now I’m getting angry.”
His hands skimmed down her sides, slipped under her shirt and settled on her lace-covered bottom. Her breath went uneven. Searing need swarmed her.
“You want something to believe, believe this.” He pulled her into the solid ridge of his erection. She lost her concentration. “There is nothing convenient about the way I feel about you.”
“You think you’re not the type to draw a man’s attention, think again. I can’t stand in the same room as you without wanting to taste you. I can’t taste you without wanting to taste all of you.”
Oh, God. Her knees turned to jelly. A hot, wet pulse came to life between her legs.
“If you can’t see in yourself what it is that I see, feel what you do to me.” Taking hold of her wrist, he placed her hand in the center of his chest.
His heart was racing. She tipped her head back and looked into his eyes. Her bones began to liquefy.
“The way you’re looking at me,” she whispered.
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like I’m important.”
“You are.”
She swallowed hard, wanting to believe him. “Like I’m beautiful.”
His lips brushed across her temple and her eyes drifted shut. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Then you would know how beautiful you are.”
Her eyes snapped open as he spun her in his arms. His hands settled on her shoulders, drawing her back against his chest. She gasped at their image reflected in the trio of mirrors that hung on her wall. When had this become a seduction?
He leaned in and put his mouth to her ear. “You have eyes like fog.” The lilting baritone of his voice washed over her and she let out a little helpless moan. “Truly amazing eyes that change color with your mood. Right now they are blue. Can you see that?”
He skimmed his hands down her arms, trailed his fingers over the backs of her hands. The shock of pleasure stole her breath. Every nerve ending in her body quivered.
“Your mouth is so sexy.” The sound that rumbled in his throat had something curling hard in her stomach. “I imagine the things you could do with that mouth.”
The mouth he spoke of dropped open as he nipped the back of her neck.
“The first time you smiled at me you stole my breath. I spent weeks trying to get you to do it again, struggling to understand what I’d done to stop you from gifting me with your smile. What was it, Isa?”
“You…noticed me.”
“I noticed you? How couldn’t I? Your hair, your skin.” Nimble fingers worked down the front of her shirt, revealing a little more of her skin with every button that slipped free. “I can’t stop touching you. Reaching for you. I imagine my hands on you, light against your dark. Here, on your stomach.”
Isabeau sucked air greedily into her lungs when his hand pressed against her stomach. She stared, mesmerized by the contrast of his pale hand against her darker, golden tones.
“Look at my hands on you.”
His growl was nearly as exciting as those long-fingered hands caressing her skin. The trembling started in her knees and crept up her body. She leaned back into his arms, using his body for support. Against her lower back, his erection pulsed.
She quivered. His name tumbled from her lips as his left hand joined his right on her stomach. Her blood hummed, her body jolted in anticipation. She didn’t realize she’d moved her own hands until denim scraped across her palms. Her fingers dug into his hips, pulled him solidly against her.
“Isabeau.” His mouth skimmed her cheek, her jaw, all while his hands kept moving, caressing. He brushed his thumb along the underside of her nipple once, twice, before his hand closed possessively over her breast. The pulse between her legs became a throbbing ache. “You’re beautiful, Isabeau.”
This time she believed him.
