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She hadn’t.
Because if she had, if she really wanted to drive him crazy…
Don’t do it, Leanna. She heard the little whisper inside her, loud and clear. Leanna, don’t!
She watched as he put on his jeans. Folded his arms. Stared up at the balcony, even though he couldn’t see her.
Leanna took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Let the music start to play in her mind. It was the “Bolero.” She loved listening to it but she had never danced to it.
Not surprising, considering that she danced ballet.
What she danced on this night would not be ballet. It would be a dance of her own creation, designed to show a man she despised exactly what he’d missed.
Slowly she stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. The night turned still, as if the world were holding its breath. She looked down, watched Cam’s expression change when he saw her.
Something hot and wild skittered through her blood.
Eyes shut, head lifted, she swayed and dipped to music only she could hear. Her head fell back. Her body arched. She raised her arms to the moon as the beat of the music and the beat of her heart became one.
The tempo quickened. She brought her hands to the first button of the caftan. Slowly, still swaying, she undid the buttons until the garment hung open on her shoulders, exposing her naked body to the night…
To the man who watched her.
The primordial pulse of the music filled her senses. Leanna took the pins from her hair and let it tumble over her shoulders in golden waves. She raised her hands to her breasts and cupped them, then let her palms drift down the curves of her body, over her belly, to her thighs.
The music reached fever pitch. She stood absolutely still. Slowly, as the last note faded into the night, she let the caftan slide to the floor, the fabric sighing against her sensitized flesh like a lover’s whisper.
Naked, she lifted her arms to the moon—and knew she had not danced to torment the man watching her.
She had danced to seduce him.
Silence hung on the night breeze. Then she heard Cam speak her name.
“Salome.”
She opened her eyes and looked down. Too late. He was already moving, disappearing as he rounded the pool.
He was coming for her.
The sitting room door flew open. She spun toward the sound and saw him as he came into the room. She could almost feel the heat coming off him, smell the scent of his maleness.
All at once, she was afraid. Her hands flew to her breasts and groin in an age-old gesture of protection.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Cam—”
He slammed the door and started toward her, kicking aside a chair that stood in his way. When he reached her, he caught her in his arms.
“No more waiting, Salome,” he said roughly, and took her down to the silk carpet.
“Cam,” she said, “Cam—”
But he was beyond hearing her. Beyond rational thought. He kissed her, shoved his knee between her thighs, caught her wrists and pinned her arms high over her head.
“Watch me,” he said. “I want to see your face as I take you.”
He entered her on one long, hard thrust. Leanna cried out and his body shuddered, then went completely still.
God, he thought, God, could it be true?
