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“So you keep reminding me. But, I don’t recall asking you to sleep with me, though if you’re offering—”
“I’m not,” she snapped, carrying Toni from the changing table to the crib. “Then what were you asking?”
“Offering, not asking. I’m offering my bed. It’s my turn to get up with Toni for the middle-of-the-night feeding and diaper change. So either we push the crib into my room or I sleep in here.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, dismissing his concerns. “I’ll take care of Toni. You stay right where you are.”
He shook his head, a crooked smile drifting across his mouth. “Sorry. I can’t do that.” He switched off the lamp on the nightstand. A sweet unicorn nightlight glowed near the crib, holding the darkness at bay. He moved toward her, his shadow leaping across the wall to join with hers. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“I don’t mind,” she insisted.
“I do.” He caught her hand and tugged her out of the room. “Come on. We’ll go back to the living room and argue about it there.”
“No, Luc.”
“You don’t want to argue about who takes care of Toni tonight?”
“Not really.”
Refusing to let go of her hand, he crossed to the couch, pulling her down next to him. “Then we’ll argue about the real reason for the disguise you’ve been hiding behind for almost a year.”
“Why don’t we talk about the weather,” she suggested dryly, moving to the far side of the couch. “That’s always a nice, safe topic.”
“The weather? Fine.” He closed the distance between them, crowding her against the cushions. “I sense a sudden heat wave. How about you?”
She pressed her hands to his chest, aware that she’d just as soon wrap her arms around him as push him away. “Luc, cut it out. This isn’t a scene out of some 1940s romantic comedy, you know.”
“You’re right.” He reached past her and turned off the lamp on the table behind them. Instantly, the room plunged into darkness. “Now it’s a scene out of a 1940s romantic comedy,” he murmured, his mouth nuzzling her ear. Moonlight filtered in through the picture windows and bathed them in a silvery glow. “The seduction scene to be exact.”
Her breath stopped in her throat. He was so close, practically lying on top of her. “And I thought talking about the weather would be safe. I’m beginning to think there aren’t any safe topics with you.”
“Then let’s not talk.”
“Don’t, Luc. I don’t want this.”
“I think you do. Shall I tell you what else I think?” He didn’t wait for her answer. His hand tangled in her hair, the streaked curls spilling from between his fingers. “I think you dyed your hair and wore suits three sizes too large for a reason.”
“What reason?” she asked, alarm streaking through her.
“For the same reason behind this.” He lifted her left hand and touched her engagement ring. “For protection.”
She stared at him in shock. Did he know? Had she given herself away? She fought his hold. “You’re crazy.”
“Am I?” His arms moved around her, pulling her tight. “You could be right about that. Let’s be crazy together.”
He didn’t say any more. He simply lowered his head and kissed her. In that instant, she realized her reaction to their first kiss hadn’t been a fluke. It was as if someone had thrown on a main power switch. Her senses came online, leaping to life with a jarring force that swept away all resistance, all thought, leaving only a desperate need behind, raw and undeniable.
His kiss stole her breath, stole her will, and she almost groaned aloud. He tasted wonderful, as heady as fine champagne. One sip and her palate was forever jaded, never again to be satisfied with anything but the best. And he was the best.
He broke off the kiss and shifted closer, his weight pressing her deep into the cushions, his body hard and taut against hers. She gazed up at him, wanting him to kiss her again but unable to ask, afraid of the words—afraid of the desire such words would express. His thick hair tumbled across his brow and he stared at her, his eyes no longer golden but two glittering shards of jet.
“You’re safe with me,” he murmured, and she knew he’d sensed her fears as well as her desire. “I won’t hurt you, Grace, I swear it.”
He kissed her again and she tilted her head, exposing the long line of her neck. His mouth drifted downward. Tenderly, he cupped her breast, caressing, stoking the fires that raged within her, driving her toward a sweet ecstasy she’d never before experienced.
“Come to my bed, Grace,” he urged. “Let me show you how good it can be between us.”
She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But it would be wrong, for so many reasons. His mouth found hers again, tantalizing her with teasing little kisses, until all she could think or feel was a desperate craving for more. Lord, he was good at this. Unfortunately, that indicated he’d had plenty of practice. Which meant...
