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Damn it. Chiara’s rhythm hitched as she brought the weight back up again and then down. She refused to look at Rick. He was either a master at sexual innuendo or set on unintentionally making her lose her mind.
She gritted her teeth and lifted the weight a few more times. After what seemed like an eternity, during which she refused to show any weakness, Rick caught the barbell and placed it on the nearby rack.
Chiara concentrated on slowing her breathing, but her chest still rose and fell from the exertion.
Rick leaned over her, bracing himself with one hand on the metal leg of the weight bench. “Nice work.”
They weren’t touching but he was a hair’s breadth away—so close that she could get lost in the gold-shot green of his eyes. Her mind wandered back to their last kiss...
He quirked his lips as if he knew what she was thinking. “Want to indulge again?”
She pretended not to understand his meaning. “No, thanks. I’m dieting. You know Hollywood actresses. We’re always trying to shed a few pounds.”
Rick’s eyes crinkled. “Seems more like fasting to me.”
Damn him. As a celebrity, it wasn’t as if she could just get online, or even on an app, and hook up with someone. There was her public image to consider, as Odele never stopped reminding her, and she didn’t want to be exploited for someone else’s gain. As a result, she’d had far fewer romantic partners than the press liked to imagine. These days, a lot of men were intimidated by her status. But not Rick. He was just a lone stuntman, but he had enough ego for an entire football team.
Still, need hummed within her, and her skin shivered with awareness. What was it with this man? He had a talent for getting under her defenses, and together they were combustible.
“Have I been doing it right?” His eyes laughed at her.
“What?”
“The kissing.”
If the response he stirred in her was any indication, then...yeah. She tingled right now—wanting him closer against her better judgment. “All wrong.”
“Then we need to practice.” His lips curved in a sultry smile. “For the photographers and their cameras.”
She’d walked into that one. “There isn’t one here right now.”
“Then we’ll need to make this real instead of make-believe,” he muttered as he focused on her mouth. “You have the fullest, most kissable lips.”
Chiara inhaled a quick little breath. It was heady being the focus of Rick’s attention. He brought the same intensity to kissing as he did to his stunts.
But instead of immediately touching his mouth to hers this time, he surprised her by smoothing a hand down her side.
She shivered, and her nipples puckered, pushing against her sports bra. She itched to explore him the way he was doing to her. She raised her hand to push him away, but instead it settled on his chest, where she felt the strong, steady beat of his heart.
“That’s right,” he encouraged. “Touch me. Make me feel.”
She parted her lips, and this time he did settle his mouth on hers. She felt a little zing, and was surrounded by his unique male scent.
His chest pressed down on the pillow of her breasts, but he didn’t give her all his weight, which was still braced on his arms.
Wrapped in his intoxicating closeness, she felt him everywhere, even on the parts of her body that weren’t touching his.
His hand cupped her between her thighs, where her tight spandex shorts were the only barrier between her heat and his. He stroked her with his thumb, again and again, until she tore her mouth from his and gasped with need.
She grasped his wrist, but it was too late. Her body splintered, spasming with completion and yet unfulfilled desire.
When she looked up, she was caught by his glittering gaze. She was vulnerable and exposed, more so even than when they’d been hanging from a helicopter and his embrace had been a haven.
She could tell he wanted her, but he was holding himself in check, his breathing heavy.
Sanity slowly returned. This was so wrong.
“Let me up,” she said huskily.
