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His words … his touch … his thigh rubbing her sex … Christ, it took him mere minutes to send her into sensory overload.
He murmured, “I’m dying to know how you taste.”
She stifled a moan. Not that anyone would hear it. Except for Michael.
Risky barreled headfirst into lethal.
She really had no idea who she was dealing with. Was caught up in and conflicted by the burning desire to interrogate and the forbidden need to let him weave his web, ensnare her.
With her lips so damn close to his throat and that pulsating point at its base, all she had to do was lift her chin and her lips would graze his skin.
Her heart thundered at the notion and the beats pounded in her ears.
Somehow, she found the good sense to say, “This really shouldn’t be happening.”
“I’m not a criminal, Scarlet,” he all but growled in agitation. “Yes, I can be ruthless. Cutthroat when it comes to business transactions. But I’m not a thief.”
His body tensed and there was an odd shift in the air between them. That rawness that had exuded from him at the Crestmont when she’d pressed him about the money she’d suspected was his cut of the insurance check returned in a flash.
And goddamn it, the angst and virility radiating from him was a huge turn-on.
But even more than that … The conviction in his tone and in his eyes called to her gut instincts again.
The problem was, she wanted to believe him.
Scarlet wanted to trust in his solemn, though slightly tormented, gaze.
It wasn’t just her coming at him with suspicions of his involvement in the theft that had him oozing the need to convince her of his innocence. It was something else. Something far beyond her comprehension … Something that ran much deeper and made her think of that ominous look that had crossed his face when she’d men
tioned the inheritance in the lounge.
There was something about the sugar plantation, his line of grandfathers, the money…? She had no idea. But her curiosity soared like never before.
She said, “Maybe you’re not a thief. But you do have secrets. A lot of them. I can read it on your face, see it in your eyes. And your defense mechanisms are meant to keep me from learning them. So again … Is there really something going on here—between us—or is all this physical interaction just your way of throwing me off the investigative trail?”
THREE
It should annoy him that she was so point-blank.
It didn’t.
Something about Scarlet Drake thrilled Michael in a way he couldn’t remember ever experiencing. She was intuitive and inquisitive. Downright candid and blunt. Brazen.
It was refreshing. Sexy. Stimulating.
Even if she did push his buttons.
He wasn’t used to a full-court press—from anyone. He had billions in the bank that he’d worked his ass off for, and his professional reputation was hard-earned and well warranted.
He didn’t like being questioned or second-guessed.
Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to mind in this instance. The beautiful investigator constantly challenging him made him even harder.
Michael said, “I can’t fake an erection. Answers that question.”
“Then your intention really is to make me come on your leg.”
“I got you that excited?”
