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so lovely to sleep, with its heavy velvet drapes and enormous four-poster bed. She looked up into his face, knowing she ought to be asking intelligent questions about the forthcoming party but it was difficult when all she could think about was the curve of his lips and the shadowed roughness of his jaw.
‘What time do you need me?’ she said, her words sounding jerky as she moistened the roof of her mouth with her tongue.
‘Come downstairs at around seven and I’ll show you the painting. The Prince is arriving at eight-fifteen and his timetable is worked out to the nearest second. I’d better warn you that lateness won’t be tolerated when you’re dealing with royals.’
‘I won’t be late, Conall.’ Amber took off his jacket and handed it to him, feeling chilled as the leather left her skin and missing the subtle scent which was all his. ‘And thanks for lending me this.’
But he didn’t take the jacket from her. He just stood there as if someone had turned him to stone. His brilliant eyes gleamed from between the dark lashes and his golden skin suddenly seemed taut over his cheekbones. ‘You know, you’re really going to have to stop doing this, Amber,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve given you several chances but my patience is wearing thin and, in the end, I’m only made out of flesh and blood—the same as any other man.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Oh, come on.’ His voice was edged with a note of irritation. ‘There are many parts you play exceedingly well, but innocence isn’t one of them. Much more of those big green eyes gazing at me like that and licking at your lips like a cat which has just seen a mouse—and I’ll be forced to kiss you, whether I want to or not.’
Amber looked at him, genuinely confused. ‘Why would you even consider kissing me if you didn’t want to?’
He laughed, but his laugh contained something dark and unknown and Amber felt as if she were a non-swimmer paddling on the edge of the shore, not noticing the powerful tug of the undercurrent edging towards her.
‘Because you’re not my kind of woman and because I am, in effect, your employer.’ His voice dipped to a silken whisper. ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.’
His unmistakable passion mixed with the complexity of her own feelings filled Amber with a sudden sense of power and she tilted her chin to look at him defiantly. ‘Well, if you really want to kiss me that badly, why don’t you just go ahead and do it?’
‘I don’t kiss women who smoke.’
There was a pause. ‘But I haven’t had a cigarette since that day I came to your office.’
‘You haven’t?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’
Should she tell him the truth? Because he’d told her she smelt disgusting and had made her feel dirty. But mainly because she’d wanted to show him she could. Somehow Conall Devlin had succeeded where two very expensive hypnotherapy courses had failed, and she’d quit smoking without a single craving.
‘Because I am at heart a very obedient woman.’ Shamelessly she batted her eyelashes at him. ‘Didn’t you know that?’
It was provocation pure and simple and Conall felt something inside him snap, like a piece of elastic which had been stretched beyond endurance. He heard the roar of blood in his ears and felt the jerk of an erection pushing hard against his jeans as he found himself pulling her into his arms and breathing in her warmth.
‘The only thing I know is that you are a stubborn and defiant woman who has tested me beyond endurance,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘And maybe this has been inevitable all along.’
She stared into his eyes. ‘You’re going to put me across your lap and smack my bottom?’
‘Is that what you’d like? Maybe later. But not right now. Right now I’m going to kiss you—but be warned that this is going to spoil you for anyone else. Are you prepared for that, Amber? That every man who kisses you after this is going to make you remember me and ache for me?’
‘You are so arrogant,’ she accused.
But her lips were parting and Conall knew she wanted this just as much as him. Maybe more—for he caught a flash of hunger in her darkening eyes. Sliding one hand around her waist while the other cushioned her still-damp hair, he lowered his mouth onto hers. And didn’t part of him want her to have lied to him—to discover the stale odour of tobacco on those soft lips so that he could pull away in disgust?
But she hadn’t lied. She tasted of peppermint and she smelt of daisies and the way she melted into his body was like throwing a match onto a pile of bone-dry timber. He groaned as he felt the stony stud of her nipples pressing against him and he reached down to cup one between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way she squirmed beneath his touch and whispered his name. He was so hard that he was afraid that his jeans might rip open all by themselves and, with something which sounded like a roar, he pushed her against the open door, so that it rocked crazily beneath the sudden urgent force of their bodies.
They kissed as if they’d just discovered how to kiss. Her arms were reaching up to his shoulders, as if she was trying to stop herself from sliding to the ground, and as Conall nudged his thigh between hers he was tempted to do just that. To lay her down on the hard floorboards and rip off their clothes and just take her, as he had been wanting to for days. Because if he did that—wouldn’t he rid his blood of this fever so that he could just forget her? His hand cupped her breast and she gasped, drawing in a shuddering breath as he bent his head and grazed his teeth against the nipple which was hard against her damp silk shirt.
‘C-Conall,’ she gasped.
‘I know,’ he ground out as desire shot through him in a potent stream. ‘Good, isn’t it?’ With his middle finger, he rubbed along the seam of her jeans at the crotch and he could feel her heat searing through the thick denim as she wriggled her hips in silent invitation.
The scent of sex and of desire was as potent as any perfume and he groped his hand downwards, reaching for his belt. He tugged it open and was just about to undo the top button of his jeans when some sharp splinter of sanity lanced into his thoughts and reality hit him like a slug to the jaw. He dragged his lips away, his eyes focusing and then refocusing as he stared at her and took a step back. Her shirt was half-open and her magnificent breasts were rising and falling as she struggled to control her breathing. Her black hair was plastered to her head, her eyes streaked with mascara from the rain and her lips were rosy-pink and trembling. He wondered what part of teaching her how to try to be a better person this fell under and a wave of self-disgust shot through him as he thought of what he’d just done. And what he’d been tempted to do...
Since when did he violate another man’s trust in him, when he knew all too well how painful the consequences of shattered trust could be?
And since when did he lose control like that?
‘Is something...wrong?’ she questioned.
