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She stepped back, her eyes riveted to the strong column of his throat as he took a couple of gulps.
She pointed towards the hallway with her glass. ‘I’ll give you a tour before you leave,’ she said.
As she walked briskly down the shadowy hallway some of the tension eased off. A guided tour would be polite and impersonal. It should help relieve the awareness between them that had nearly had
her crawling out of her skin during the drive down, and get things back on an even keel.
Except, it didn’t.
The cottage’s rooms had always seemed remarkably spacious. Hadn’t she marvelled at the house’s generous layout, the huge panoramic windows at the front that opened the rooms onto the magnificent seaside vista of cliffs and surf, as soon as she’d moved in?
But today, even with the air con on full blast and the sun streaming through to brighten the heavy wood furniture and ornate trim, every room they entered together seemed more cramped and airless than the last.
Even the comforting scent of lavender furniture polish and sea air had been masked by the musky scent of him... Soap and man and pheromones.
And his silence only made the tour all the more unnerving. Every time she turned to leave a room, he was there, too close behind her, his broad chest and intent gaze a physical force that had her mouth watering, even though she was trying very hard not to let it.
After showing him the small second bedroom, she darted under his arm and headed back to the living room with some mumbled excuse about showing him the gardens, her heartbeat fluttering in her throat like the wings of a hummingbird on speed.
‘Hey, you forgot this room,’ he shouted after her as she made a beeline for the wide open spaces of the living room.
She stopped and turned to find him standing next to the door to her bedroom, the easy smile on his face a combination of smug and amused.
‘What’s in here?’ he enquired, as if he didn’t already know.
Even if he hadn’t had free range of the cottage when he was a boy and Maria and Zane had lived here, he had to know there was only one room she hadn’t shown him.
She stood and stared at him, rooted to the spot.
No way, she was not giving him a tour of her bedroom.
She had absolutely no desire to sleep with him again. The man had avoided her for three whole weeks, after she thought they’d had an agreement. She wasn’t about to set herself up for rejection all over again. But with her skin tightening and her heart battering her ribcage, she was not about to tempt fate either.
Unfortunately though, she couldn’t seem to open her mouth and actually say any of that, because her mouth had gone dry again—even though she’d choked down a whole glass of lemonade during the fastest house tour on record—and she couldn’t speak.
Leaning against the doorframe, he twisted the handle and let the door swing open. Light flooded into the darkened corridor, illuminating the tempting smile on his face as he peered into the room.
‘Nice cushions.’ He studied the room, his eyebrow quirking along with his lips as his gaze returned to hers. ‘Is that bed as comfortable as it looks?’
She gulped audibly, before she choked on her own tongue, the husky invitation in his voice as unequivocal as it was outrageous.
‘I guess you’ll never know.’
He gave a rough chuckle. ‘Why don’t you come here and say that?’
It wasn’t a question, it was a challenge, and one she wasn’t convinced she could win, but pride had her chin jutting out and her stilettos clicking on the tiled floor before she could evaluate her chances.
She stopped in front of him, slapped her hand onto her hip and looked up at him. Way up. ‘I guess you’ll never know.’ Unfortunately the words didn’t quite have the defiance she’d been aiming for when they came out on a breathless murmur.
‘Oh, yeah?’
A firm hand curled around her nape, and those smiling sensual lips covered hers, his tongue delving deep to capture the gasp of shock and stunned arousal.
Heat blazed down to her core, her body shook with suppressed need and she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his in a dance of passion and provocation.
But then her fevered mind engaged. She sucked in a breath, curled her fingers into the crisp linen of his shirt and shoved hard against the solid wall of muscle. He barely budged, but his head lifted, those pure blue eyes locking on hers.
Her breath rattled out, the ragged pants making her sound like a sixty a day smoker. ‘This isn’t happening. Not again,’ she said, forcing the words out past the riot of sensations making her legs shake, her fingers tremble.
