Stranded, Seduced...Pregnant. KIM LAWRENCE
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‘Think about it and get back to me when you’ve decided.’
Neve angled a glare up at his face and gritted, ‘Neve Macleod.’
‘Right, Neve, I’ll check out upstairs, you take off that wet stuff.’
It was not a suggestion.
The man was clearly used to issuing orders and it was revealing that he took compliance for granted; presumably there was a girlfriend or even wife somewhere who jumped when he snapped his fingers.
He returned a few moments later; in his absence Neve hadn’t moved a muscle. Even had she wanted to respond to his casual order she couldn’t have, but she could see no point in removing clothes when she was so cold that her bones ached with it. Besides, the action would require energy and hers had seeped away.
She stood there shivering while he paused at the bottom of the stairs to peel the ski mask from his head.
‘Nobody there,’ he announced. ‘Though the open drawers and wardrobe suggest a hasty departure. Very Marie Celeste, but I do have a theory,’ he offered, passing a hand back and forth across his short dark hair as he walked to the fire and swung open the glass door. Dipping into the log basket, he threw a couple onto the glowing embers.
Neve didn’t ask about his theory; she barely heard what he said. She was staring transfixed by the features that had been hidden until now beneath the mask—features that were not plain and definitely not pleasant! Not even in the confines of her head had she ever called a man beautiful before, but he was—he was totally, jaw-droppingly perfect.
Beautiful but without being in any way pretty, raw sex appeal oozing from every perfect pore, each individual feature in his face gave new meaning to faultless perfection, from the sensual curve of his wide, sensually sculpted mouth to the arched angle of his ebony brows.
Utterly transfixed, she held her breath as her fascinated gaze slid over each amazing angle and fascinating hollow of his oval face, from the high, carved cheekbones to the aquiline nose. His deep-set eyes, the only feature previously visible, were only a shade lighter than the incredibly long ebony lashes that fringed them.
She expelled a shaky sigh as her stomach muscles quivered violently. He was big and hard and oozed both danger and an earthy raw sex appeal she had been conscious of even when his face had been concealed.
‘Come to the fire—you’re still shaking,’ Severo observed, annoyed with himself for allowing the mystery of the deserted house to distract him from the immediate problem, which by the look of her was imminent collapse and probably hypothermia.
At the sound of his voice Neve shook her head and blinked like someone surfacing from a trance. She’d not drooled, but she had come pretty close her embarrassment was profound.
‘I’m fine.’
She had never been a sucker for a pretty face and this was not the right time to discover her inner bimbo! Pull yourself together, Neve! So he’s easy on the eye—it’s what’s underneath that counts.
Especially if what’s underneath is a body as incredible as she suspected his was!
Disassociating herself from the comment in her head, Neve brought her lashes down in a protective screen, hoping that he couldn’t hear the frantic thud of her heart from across the room.
His sensual lips twisted in an irritated grimace as his glance swept her face. ‘Fine? Now there’s a surprise—considering how rich the English language is, your vocabulary seems painfully limited.’
‘I’m a bit cold.’
‘A bit cold…I’m assuming you graduated with first-class honours in understatement. I am no expert on such matters, if you discount a year of pre-med, but I do not think that lips are meant to be blue.’
Neve lifted a shaky hand to cover her tremulous lips and stared up at him, trying to imagine him as a doctor and getting bogged down by the bedside-manner section of the job. ‘I said I’m cold.’
‘I am cold. You,’ he decided, ‘are in danger of succumbing to hypothermia. And we will get on a lot better if you spare me the incessant stoicism,’ he observed, sounding bored.
‘I don’t want to “get on better” with you.’
Ignoring the childish retort, he lifted a hand and gestured for her to come to the fire. When she didn’t respond he crossed the room and stood looking down at her for a moment before planting both hands heavily on her shoulders.
Holding her eyes, he steered her towards the glass-fronted wood burner. His sloe-dark gaze remained trained on Neve’s paper-pale face as he dragged a small armchair across the slate-flagged floor.
Neve’s knees folded under the pressure of the hands on her shoulders as he urged her into it.
Severo dropped into a squatting position and began to unzip the snow-coated oversized jacket. He peeled it away to reveal the bright pink sweater she wore beneath.
Neve roused herself enough to make a token protest when he began to remove the saturated sweater, but he rather predictably ignored her.
‘I’m not helpless,’ she protested, feeling perilously close to it. Also perilously close was his chest and quite stupidly she wanted to lay her head on it.
‘Dio mio, woman, do you ever stop complaining?’
The sodden sweater made a squelching noise as he tossed it carelessly on the floor. Without the padding she was revealed as slim and sleek with surprisingly generous curves that were in perfect proportion to her delicate petite frame.
Her outraged blue gaze flew to his face. ‘Do you ever stop issuing orders?’ she countered in husky exasperation.
He flashed her a mocking grin. ‘Some are born to lead, others to follow, preferably in silence.’ Though her voice with the sexy little rasp was actually quite easy on the ear.
‘And I suppose these born leaders in your world are all m…male.’ The words emerged through clenched teeth she couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
Under the sweater she was wearing a thin cotton tee shirt that clung damply, revealing not only the outline of her spine and heaving ribcage, but the lacy pattern of her bra and the clearly defined outline of her nipples thrusting through the thin fabric.
It was the last detail that riveted Severo’s attention and sent a kick of lust through his body. The more he tried not to think about a breast fitting perfectly in his hand, the more he saw it there. The more he saw his mouth moving over the smooth silky flesh, teasing…tasting.
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