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But, as he rolled towards her, his hand landing on her shoulder, he couldn’t bring himself to shake her awake. Instead, his palm skimmed down the curve of her body to rest on her hip.
She stirred but remained asleep, the murmur of her breathing—and the feel of her soft skin beneath his hand—making the incessant heat gather again in his groin.
Seriously?
He sighed and inhaled her scent.
The fresh, tempting perfume she must have dabbed on her neck had faded, to be replaced by the musty scent of sex and the rich, intoxicating scent of her skin.
Rich, intoxicating... And... He shifted closer to her to gather another greedy lungful. Disturbingly familiar.
His shaft swelled against her bottom as the memories the aroma invoked slammed into him.
Another woman. A girl. So eager and responsive, she had destroyed all his caution, all his control, in the space of a few heady hours.
What the actual...?He swore and jerked away from the woman in his bed now.
How could Lacey have exactly the same smell as that girl and affect him in the same incendiary way? The girl he’d banished from his life so long ago but had never been able to fully forget.
Could she be...?
Dammit, Cade, get a grip.
He forced himself to breathe through the wave of panic and stunned arousal and waited for his exhausted mind to engage.
How could she be the same woman? Wouldn’t he have recognised her immediately? And wouldn’t she have said something? But then he recalled everything about her—from the minute she had entered his office that afternoon—which had provoked and aroused memories of that night five years ago.
Hell, whether she was that girl or not, was that why he had been so determined to bring her to Paris, to seduce her?
He dragged off the sheet, his skin tingling again, the coil of desire in his gut tightening from the renewed overload of sensation which Lacey seemed to trigger without even trying. Just like that girl.
How could those memories still be so vivid too?
He forced himself to get up, to get away from her. He stalked into the bathroom, closed the door then turned on one of the ambient lights. Bracing his hands on the marble vanity, he stared at his face in the mirror as the sensory overload continued to charge through his system like a wild stallion—untamed, uncontrollable.
He breathed through it, waiting for the adrenaline rush to subside. His pulse finally slowed and the strident erection subsided enough for him to think coherently.
He stripped off the condom, then washed his hands and face. The splash of cold water brought him back to his senses.
Surely Lacey couldn’t be Lizzy Devlin?
But there was one easy way to find out. Because there was another distinguishing mark on that girl he remembered far too vividly.
He walked back into the bedroom. Lacey hadn’t moved, her body still curled into a foetal position, her breathing slow and even.
He switched on the bedside light, the soft glow adding a lustre to her skin, but she still didn’t stir. He tugged the sheet down and watched it slide over the curve of her backside to reveal the pale flesh of her buttocks in the lamplight.
His breathing stopped and a wave of anger blindsided him. A swear word hissed through clenched teeth.
Lacey Carstairs had a lot of explaining to do.
Starting with why the hell she hadn’t mentioned he had devoured her in a similar frenzy five years ago.
But what infuriated him more was the blistering heat which followed as he examined the heart-shaped birthmark high on her right buttock—and the visceral memory of how he’d discovered it once before flowed through his system again like wildfire.
CHAPTER FIVE
LACEYJERKEDAWAKE, her body still humming, her mind a mess. She blinked, aware of all the places she ached. But then it all came rushing back—the ballroom kiss, the rush of panic on the balcony of Brandon’s suite, the dark deeds which had followed as she’d succumbed to his seduction. Wildly, willingly. She shivered, aware of her nakedness, and the sensations still skittering across her skin.
