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No!
So why was she almost prone in the back of a car, with a bristling alpha male who made her panties damp with desire and her pulse hammer as his hot mouth kissed its way down her exposed cleavage?
Ice drenched her, stiffened her body and lent her the strength to push at Bastien’s shoulders. Even so, she couldn’t help a smothered groan when his lips grazed one tight, cashmere-covered nipple. The absence of a bra meant his touch manifested itself much more brazenly, its thrilling effect nearly sending her into orbit. Heat shot from her nipple to her clitoris, drenching her in even more shame.
‘Stop!’
Her frantic cry got through to him. The hands curled possessively around her waist stilled. In the darkness of the car he raised his head and speared her with gunmetal eyes. The hungry blaze in their depths made her quake. His gaze fell to her lips. As if he’d kissed them again they tingled and swelled.
Slowly he rose and settled back into his seat.
Ana struggled up and straightened her clothes. Minutes ticked by. He said nothing—just continued to stare at her.
Trying desperately to hide her flustered state, she fixed her hair and finally faced him. She tried not to think of how his fingers, now clenched into a fist on his thigh, had trailed fire on her skin, how quickly and devastatingly they’d evoked raw, turbulent feelings inside her.
Resolute, she cleared her throat. ‘If you were trying to prove a point with that...that display, I should warn you it proved nothing.’
His face remained impassive. ‘That you feel the need to caution me speaks for itself.’
‘Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pounce on me without warning like that in future.’
His low laugh infused the dark interior of the car with rich sound. ‘You think a gold-embossed request next time is going to make this insane chemistry between us more benign?’
‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t touch me at all.’ She pulled the coat tighter around her, chilled despite the warmth of the car.
Once again she’d let Bastien shake the foundations of her painfully constructed fortress of self-control and allowed her emotions to get the better of her.
How many times had she seen her mother succumb to the emptiness of lust and need, only to be left high and dry and even more embittered? And how many times had she borne the brunt of her mother’s misery? She couldn’t, wouldn’t give in to whatever deceptive, tumultuous sensations Bastien elicited from her.
She was in control of her life, of her feelings. And she aimed for it to stay that way.
‘Promise me it won’t happen again.’ The slight edge to her tone made her suck in a breath and battle to remain calm.
For several seconds he remained silent. Then he hooked a finger under her chin.
* * *
Bastien had watched her struggle to bring herself under control and felt a strange kinship with her as he battled his own raging libido. Things had got out of hand far too quickly.
He knew the full cost of giving one’s emotions free rein. He’d watched his mother wear her heart on her sleeve every day—only to have it exploited, twisted and broken apart until only a shell remained. A shell that had had no use for a son’s presence, never mind his love.
His aim since that bleak winter had been to protect himself against that feeling at all costs. And he’d succeeded...for the most part. Until Ana.
His gaze dropped to her still-damp lips—lips that had tasted much sweeter than he’d remembered from that one other time when he’d lost control and let her slip beneath his guard. The day he’d almost stripped her naked on the deck of his yacht.
His groin hardened all over again as he recalled the smooth valley between her breasts, now fully covered with the wide lapels of a coat two sizes too big. His mouth had grazed the hard nub of her nipple only briefly, but the imprint remained vivid, branded on his lips.
With a swallowed groan he dropped his hand, willed his control back, and cast around wildly for a subject to kill the desire swirling inside him.
‘How’s your mother these days?’
In the dim light her eyes widened warily at the change of subject before she glanced down at her hands. He knew very well that he hadn’t answered her question, or given her the promise she sought. He had no intention of doing so.
Ana Duval had no right to seek promises from him. Certainly not ones he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep. She unsettled him far too much, emotionally and physically, for him to be anywhere near certain about any damned thing.
When she looked up her anxious expression was gone, replaced by an icy hauteur that was meant to freeze him out. He almost laughed.
‘She’s fine—but somehow I think you know that.’
