“What about you?” He folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Did you come here with a secret agenda?”
“No secret
agenda. When Valerie told me she worked at the club, I was curious so I
agreed to meet her here instead of at my office.”
“Brave girl,” he murmured.
Katy cocked an eyebrow and
put her hands on her hips. She hadn’t been called a girl since she
turned eighteen. “That was slightly condescending.”
His
eyes crinkled and a smile played at the corners of his broad, sensuous
mouth. “The correct response to a compliment is thank you.”
She walked over to another part of the collection and pulled out a dusty bottle. “I hardly think that was—”
“I’m waiting.”
Surprised by his warning tone, she turned to face him.
He
sat back in his chair, long, muscular legs spread, corded forearms
crossed, dark eyes calm and focused. But despite his casual manner, she
sensed power and tension coiled in his lean body, like a cobra ready to
spring.
A thrill of
fear raced through her, followed by a sharp spike of arousal. She
tempered it quickly. No way would she be pushed around even if secretly
his commanding tone turned her on. She replaced the bottle in the rack.
“I think we’d better get back upstairs.”
His voice softened. “Why are you running away?”
She spun around to face him. “I’m not running away. I…I’ve seen the wine cellar so I thought—”
“You’re afraid.”
Katy folded her arms. “Not at all.”
“Your body says otherwise.”
She froze and then sucked in a breath. “What do you mean by that?”
“Body language. You’re
flushed, trembling. Your breathing rate has increased. Your eyes are
wide. Your hands are clenched into fists. Your tongue…” He paused and
his voice lowered to a husky growl. “Your tongue keeps darting out to
lick your lips. If that isn’t fear, sugar, what could it be?”
Arousal,
fierce and unfamiliar, shot through her like an electric current,
flaming her body, burning a path to her core. Sweat broke out on her
heated skin. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.
Mark’s lips curled into a
slow, sensual smile. “Come here, Katy-who-isn’t-afraid.” The sound of
his voice, hard and low, sent a chill down her spine.
No,
not a chill. A heat wave. A fever. Maybe she was ill. Maybe that’s why
her cheeks burned and sweat trickled between her breasts.
But that
didn’t explain the deep yearning that had risen up within her. Oh, she
wanted to go to him, tear his clothes off, climb onto his lap, run her
hands over his broad chest and then lower. It was as if she had been
starving for years and he was a banquet waiting to be tasted.
Maybe that was the truth of it.
Giving
herself a mental shake, she willed the sensation to go away. What the
hell was going on? Was she seriously contemplating having sex with a
stranger in the basement of a fetish club?
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Why?”
“Didn’t you want the Meursault?”
Katy nodded and her pulse kicked up a notch.
“Third row down, second bottle from the left.” He pointed above his head.
Katy raised an eyebrow. “A gentleman would get it for me.”
“I’m
not feeling like a gentleman right now. Especially after your stirring
performance upstairs and the way you’re looking at me now—like you want
to devour me.” The heat in his eyes matched his voice, dark and sinful,
like a rich Amarone. How long had it been since a man had gazed at her
with such desire? After Justin’s birth, Steven had never once looked at
her with anything more than mild interest.
Katy lowered her eyes. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”
He cut her off. “Katy.”
She
looked up into amused brown eyes and then drank in the sight of his
hard, muscular body sprawled across the chair; his long legs open and
inviting.
Craving, deep and delicious, flooded her veins.
“Come here, sugar. I won’t bite.”
“It’s
not the biting I’m worried about.” Nor was it him. Her gut told her he
wouldn’t hurt her. If he had wanted to try anything, he wouldn’t have
waited this long. No, it was her. She had lost control of herself and
she had no idea what this new, lust-driven Katy Sinclair was about to
do.
Still,
his soft, cajoling voice drew her forward. Although she wanted the
wine, she wanted him more. But after ten years on the bench, she didn’t
remember how to play the game.
Her heels clicked on the flagstone floor as she closed the distance
between them, stopping only a foot away. Even seated, he intimidated
her. But God was he sexy. Her pulse raced and her throat turned dry.
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m beginning to wonder if we haven’t met before.”
Katy shook her head. “We haven’t. I’m sure of it. You’re not someone I would ever forget.” Or ever will. She
stepped closer, her body now only inches from his. She caught the scent
of his spicy aftershave and something raw and purely masculine. A
quiver of fear ran through her followed again by the fierce rush of
arousal.
“Good girl.”
“I’m hardly a girl.”
He reached out and put his
hands on her hips, drawing her close, until she could feel the heat of
his breath on her breasts through the thin cotton of her shirt. She bit
her lip to stifle a moan.
“Most definitely not,” he murmured.
Inexplicable
desires wracked Katy’s body. She wanted to thread her fingers through
his hair, straddle his body and press her breasts against his full,
sensuous lips.
Her
briefcase dropped, unbidden, to the floor. She ran a tentative finger
along the square line of his jaw, rough with stubble, but pulled away at
his sharp intake of breath.
“Put
it back.” He lifted her hand and pressed it against his cheek, trapping
it with his own. His skin was warm, firm. So sexy. She felt the slip of
arousal between her thighs and drew in a ragged breath.
Get a grip, Katy. This isn’t you.
She eased herself out of his grasp. “You’re going to have to move. I’m not reaching over you.”
“Shame.” He stood with the grace of a man half his size and pulled the chair out of her way.
Katy
reached for the bottle. Too high. She looked over her shoulder. Mark’s
gaze was fixed firmly on her…ass. She snorted a laugh. “When you’re
done, maybe you could give me a hand.”
Mark grinned and walked
toward her, stopping so close she could feel the heat radiating from his
body across every inch of her back. He put one arm around her waist and
pulled her into his broad chest.
“Where do you want it, sugar?” he whispered, his breath warm and moist in her ear.
Red, hot flames of need licked through her body. “Want what?”
“My hand.”
She could
think of several places she wanted his hand. Places Steven had rarely
touched. Emboldened by his obvious interest, and her own simmering
arousal, she let her head fall back on his shoulder and looked up at
him. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
His body shook with laughter. “What kind of girl?”
“The kind of girl who tells a man where she wants his hand.”
He stroked the curve of her waist and brushed his lips over her ear. “You don’t have to tell me, sugar. I know.”
