Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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They had cobras in India. Cobras that mesmerized their prey before striking. Was he less of a tiger and more of a cobra? Was she mesmerized? Was that why she felt so languid and warm, why she wanted to close her eyes and lean into him? Why she wanted to take what she thought he was offering and then pretend it had never happened?
Deliberately, she took a step back, breaking the spell. This was insane. And she had to put an end to it. There was too much at stake.
“I’m sure you’re quite good, but I’ve a duty to perform and no time for casual sex on the bathroom counter. Please tell Brady I was happily satisfied, if that’s what you need to do to get paid. I’ll find my own way back to my room.”
He stared at for her a long moment—and then he threw back his head, a sharp bark of laughter springing from his throat. She was so startled she couldn’t move. And then she felt the bite of heat flooding her again. A different kind of bite this time.
“This is definitely a first,” he said, the humor evident on his handsome face. It transformed him somehow, made him less frightening and more real. More human. “But I am not here for your, uh, satisfaction, I assure you.”
For some reason, that statement made her angry. As if he’d never consider such a thing with her. As if the thought were repulsive, when men had always clamored for her attentions.
She drew herself up. “You come in here talking in innuendo and half-truths—what do you expect me to think?”
She clung to the anger because the alternative was to melt into an embarrassed puddle. He probably had a wife and ten children at home, even if he was too perfect for words and wore no wedding band.
A sudden, sharp stab of something—pain, Veronica,
pain—pierced her chest at heart level. She knew she was not the sort of woman who inspired visions of picket fences, warm kitchens and laughing babies.
And it had never bothered her until recently, until she’d almost had her own baby.
Baby.
Funny how that word snuck up sometimes and squeezed the breath from her chest. She closed her eyes briefly, swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
I’m sorry, sweet baby …
“Are you unwell?” he asked.
She sliced a hand through the air impatiently, shoving the pain down deep into her soul. “I’m fine.”
The lights flickered again. He looked up, frowning. “We really should return to your room before the power goes out.”
“We aren’t going anywhere,” she snapped.
He looked at her as if he pitied her. “That is not your choice to make.”
Veronica stared at him for a moment, undecided, while anger built into a solid wall inside her. How dare he? How absolutely dare he?
Energy exploded inside her like a wave collapsing and racing toward shore, until it sent her striding forward, intending to push past him if necessary.
He anticipated her, caught her bare arm in one strong hand. The shock of skin on skin sizzled into her core, and Veronica gasped. It was too much, too many raw emotions welling to the surface all at once. She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to be touched by him.
She twisted hard, her open hand swinging up to connect with his cheek.
She missed. At the same time, her body spun out of her control—and then she was pressed against him, her back to his front, one strong hand clasping her wrists together behind her back while the other snaked around her waist and held her tightly.
Fury welled inside her as she jerked uselessly against the bonds of his iron grip.
He was so solid, so warm and hard. It took her a moment to realize that her bottom nestled in the cradle of his hips. That his body was responding to the way she squirmed against him. If she weren’t wearing heels, she wouldn’t be tall enough.
But right now, she was.
Her skin was hot, so hot. She wanted to press back against him, wanted to feel his heat pass into her cold body.
The thought horrified her so much she pulled forward in his grasp, trying hard to minimize the contact between them. Her back arched, her breasts straining against her gown as if they would pop free at any moment.
“Let me go,” she groaned.
“I’m here to protect you,” he said, his warm breath whispering against her ear. A shudder traveled the length of her spine. She had no doubt he’d felt it.
“Protect me from what? From you?” she flung at him as the evidence of his arousal grew against her.
He managed to put a little distance between them, though not much. The loss of contact disconcerted her in ways it shouldn’t. What was wrong with her?
“From yourself,” he growled in her ear. “From the incompetence of your staff.”
“A funny way you have of doing it,” she snapped, trying so hard to concentrate on what was wrong with this picture instead of what felt right.
His touch. His breath in her ear. The scent of him. The solid feel of him standing behind her. Veronica fought for control. “I have protection, in spite of what you might think. That man will be fired immediately. Another will take his place.”
“Very good, Veronica. I’d thought you would be soft on him.”
“I’m never soft,” she said as another tremor passed over her. His fingers began to slide slowly across her abdomen.
“Are you quite certain?” His voice was seductive and beautiful in her ear. So much in that sentence. So much she couldn’t begin to speak to.
“You can let me go,” she repeated.
“I’m not so sure.” His fingers moved slowly, so slowly. The pressure of them against her body was light, yet she felt them as if she was naked and he was stroking her like a lover.
She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. My God …
The lights flickered once more….
And then snapped out, plunging them into darkness.
THE sudden silence was crushing. Veronica could hear his breathing, but nothing else.
“Now what?” she asked, her voice so loud to her ears. Catching at the end. Sounding husky. Needy.
For this man? A stranger to her?
It was unfathomable, and yet nothing was as it should be. Nothing had been as it should have been for months. In truth, her entire life had spun out of control and had yet to spin back.
“We wait,” he said, his fingers stilling.
“For what? Don’t you have a flashlight or something? For all your fine talk about being the best, you seem unprepared.”
“I am definitely prepared,” he growled in her ear, his breath tickling the fine hairs on her nape.
“Prove it,” she said, her voice even huskier if that were possible. Dear God, what was she up to? There was no way on earth she was truly egging this man on, was there? She might find him amazingly attractive—devastatingly so—but she was not about to lift her gown and wrap her legs around his body in reality.
No matter what Brady seemed to think she was capable of. No matter what she might have done a little over a year ago when confronted with a man of such beauty and power as this sexy tiger in black.
The old Veronica would have made him