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New tremors. Visible now. Thankfully, he didn’t notice. His stare was fixed to the empty space between us, his features pursing. He seemed troubled. Or confused. Or both.
Did that mean he’d felt it too? The energy between our palms, the awareness between our fingers? Had he felt them, noticed them—or was this how he affected everyone he met? Wouldn’t be a surprise, though it’d force me to chomp crow after throwing shade at the reporters who’d been here for junkets and returned with wet spots for the remaining Cimarron bachelor.
Holy shit. It all made so much sense now.
Hemade sense now.
What the hell did that mean?
I had no idea—only to admit that somehow, even as aroused as I was, I felt…
In the right place.
At the right time.
Standing in front of the right man.
Who gazed back at me with unprecedented, unflinching, knowingness. As if his instincts acknowledged the exact same thing.
Trouble.
Trouble.
In giant, lethal vats of the stuff.
It wasn’t just his beauty. Hell, I came from the land of gorgeous men. They made me lattes in the morning and margaritas at happy hour. Loaded up on sprouts next to me in the produce section. Had their own gyms on the beaches. None of them made me feel like this. Reminding myself to breathe with every inch they moved. Doubting my ability to walk a straight line after being beckoned into their office. Forcing myself not to fixate on their impossibly long, elegant fingers…
Somehow, I managed breathing and walking. At once. Whoa.
My success was fleeting.
Even the man’s office turned me on. Probably because it seemed so much like him. Old-world class met modern-day strength in the form of a large, semi-circle desk crafted in dark wood, embellished at the front with an art deco version of the Arcadian crest. The chair behind the desk was basic and functional, though the five chairs facing the front of it were expensive pieces of dark brown leather. The floor was polished Travertine tile, covered mostly by a plush ivory rug.
Just gazing at it all made me throb a little more.
Hell.
And wonder what my naked body would feel like against all of it.
Double hell.
Especially that rug…
Blasting insanity into my mind. Beautiful, incredible insanity.
A vision of me, sinking to my knees in that plushness. In front of him. Leaning close to his sinewy thighs as I unbuckled his belt. Unzipped his expensive slacks. Sighed against the flesh beneath as he gave me illicit commands in that decadent accent, then fed his hard flesh into my eager mouth…
Was there such a thing as triple hell?
There was now.
“Well.” The voice from my little fantasy, now just inches behind me, nearly plummeted me to my ass. Yes, even in Mom’s basic flats. “Shall we get to it?”
Gulp.
Hard.
Again.
