“Lex,” he whispered raggedly. “Iwantyou. Tell me what I have to do to have you.”
The words jarred her back to reality.
She tore her mouth from his and stared up at him. The raw hunger on his face mirrored the desire rampaging through her body. She wanted him, wanted him so badly she shook with it. It would have been so easy to surrender to temptation, to go home with him and let him make love to her. She ached to feel his body joined with hers, possessing her.
But it was too dangerous.
“I—I can’t,” she stammered, shaking her head.
“Lex—”
Quentin took a step toward her and she retreated backward. “I’m sorry. This was such an incredible evening. Everything was perfect. But I can’t do this, Quentin.”
He stared down at her, his eyes smoldering with sexual need and frustration.
“I should go.” It was more plea than declaration.
He held her gaze for another long, electrified moment, then heaved a resigned breath and muttered, “At least let me walk you to your damn car.”
She knew better than to argue.
Chapter 9
But she argued with herself on the drive home. Or rather, she argued with her raging libido, which tormented her with throbbing breasts and a deep, relentless ache between her thighs that had her squirming and wanting to climb out of her skin.
She was halfway home before she finally accepted defeat.
“Screw this.” With barely a glance in her rearview mirror, she hooked a hard U-turn at the next traffic light and headed back toward midtown. By the time she reached the luxury high-rise on Peachtree Street, she was breathless with anticipation, adrenaline and lust.
She swung into the underground parking garage, inserted a coded key card to open the gate, then wheeled her car into the empty guest spot that practically belonged to her. Spying Quentin’s black Jaguar, she nodded with satisfaction.
Inside the lobby, her stiletto heels clicked smartly on the polished marble floor as she strode to the bank of elevators, the flaps of her belted trench coat blowing open across her legs.
“Good evening, Miss Austin,” the concierge said as she sailed past him with a distracted smile and a wave.
The elevator whisked her up to the twentieth floor in seconds, but even that wasn’t fast enough. When she reached Quentin’s penthouse at the end of the corridor, she pressed the doorbell and waited, shaking with nerves and excitement. When there was no response, she quickly punched numbers into the combination keypad. As soon as the lock clicked open, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
Then, and only then, did she have a moment’s pause.
Could she really go through with this?
Too late for second thoughts now. You’re already in the lion’s den.
Breathing deeply to bolster her flagging courage, Lexi set her purse on the foyer table and swept a cursory glance around the two-story penthouse, which boasted gleaming mahogany floors, ultramodern fixtures and masculine, contemporary furnishings. A wall of windows commanded a stunning view of downtown Atlanta, now blanketed with glittering lights.
“Lexi?”
Her gaze swung across the shadowy living room, where Quentin was slowly descending a spiral staircase. Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat.
He reached the landing and stepped into a soft pool of light. He’d changed for bed, putting on a pair of long black shorts and nothing else. Her mouth ran dry at the sight of his massive shoulders and wide chest sculpted with hard, sinewy muscle. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him shirtless, but tonight she intended to explore every inch of all that glorious male flesh.
“I thought I heard the doorbell.” He stared at her, his eyes shadowed and heavy lidded. “What’re you doing here, Lex?”
She met his gaze directly. “I changed my mind.”
Silence.
“You changed your mind.” His voice was a deep, husky rumble in the semidarkness.
