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Her face remained carefully neutral. ‘I’m not following you.’
He sat back in his chair. ‘You’re holding something back. I don’t want to think the worst—’
‘But you’re going to anyway.’
He shrugged. ‘We both know how irrational women and men can be when they’re fixated on something.’
She paled and sank back into her chair. Bastien’s earlier niggle of doubt returned...expanded.
‘Let me get this straight. You think I’m fixated on you?’ she whispered.
‘It’s not beyond the realms of possibility.’
One shapely brow arched. ‘Really? Is there an app for that? Because I’d like to have one for Christmas.’
His jaw clenched. ‘Don’t get flippant with me, Ana.’
‘And don’t get too far up yourself, Bastien, or you might trip and break your neck. Need I remind you that everything that’s happened between us so far has been mutual?’ she threw at him, then surged out of her seat and headed for the door.
He was up and blocking her way before he’d even realised what he was doing. ‘This conversation isn’t over.’
‘Yes, it is. To think I deluded myself into believing I was wrong about you. That you would be interested in helping me.’
She reached past him. He stayed her by taking her arm. Smooth skin registered beneath his fingers, her firm muscles clenching in resistance.
‘Ana, stop.’
‘Go to hell!’ she snapped, then mauled at her lip again.
That single action caused his blood to boil, to pool somewhere decidedly south. This time he didn’t want to still the movement with his hand. He wanted to use his mouth.
‘You’re biting your lip again. Something’s up.’
Her sigh released her trapped flesh. ‘You credit me with too much guile, Bastien. Trust me—I’m not worthy of it.’
‘Too late. I know just how beguiling and bewitching you can be when it suits you.’
Her slap came swift and hard. It stung. It also brought him alive in ways Bastien had never imagined. Within seconds he was hard, his erection strong and unstoppable. The hoarse, shaken sound that had emitted from her throat brought his attention to her sleek neck, to the frantic hammering pulse.
Without stopping to think, he lowered his head and flicked his tongue against it. Her shocked gasp washed over his jaw. Drawing her closer, he closed his mouth over her pulse, needing to connect with her life force.
‘No.’
Her protest was firm and solid—nothing like the debilitating weakness that flooded him.
He paused. Slowly he raised his head. Her eyes were pools of hurt, wide and aching. The vice in his chest tightened. When her lips worked as if she wanted to say more his gaze fell to her moist, plump mouth. It tempted him...a siren’s call he couldn’t resist.
With a suppressed groan, he started to lower his head again.
‘No,’ she stressed again. ‘I’m not fixated on you, Bastien.’
The words were said with a conviction that stopped his breath. But he wanted her to be. Just as he was fixated on her. She’d already succeeded in getting under his skin. She made him want everything he shouldn’t.
Hell, last night he’d even found himself reaching for the phone. He’d been halfway to dialling his mother’s cell phone before he’d stopped himself. Knowing she was responsible for him placing himself in a position of possible rejection should have made him angry. Instead something had shifted inside him, and the instincts that had seen him through some tough and tricky times had urged him down a different path. A shaky, unsettling path of maybe and...hope.
‘What aren’t you telling me, Ana? If you want me to help you, talk to me.’
His breath stalled as he waited for her to answer.
