It was a sliver of hope she clung to.
Raising her arm, she brushed his hair back from his gorgeous face and his decadent sable lashes fluttered as if weighted in bliss, as if he adored her touch. It broke her heart.
‘Relax, Luciana. You seem brittle enough to shatter.’
Smooth as silk, his voice caressed her skin—a tangible touch of his magnetic heat and power that lulled her to calm.
‘Here—take a taste.’
Glancing at the glass of red wine he’d promised earlier, she tried to swallow past her raw, swollen throat. Heavens, no. Thane was intoxicating enough. Half a glass and she’d be the centrefold in the tawdriest scenario her imagination could conjure up.
‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Thane.’
Truly, she was way out of her depth, lying here as he towered above her, dominating her world. Thane on a sensual mission was a demonic tidal wave to be reckoned with. But she wasn’t convinced sleeping with him would do either of them any favours in the long run.
Still, the yearning pushed at her soul. Stronger in force since the revelations of the afternoon. ‘You’re about the only thing in the world I do feel…’ That must be why he’d brought her here. Right? She made him feel and he was chasing it. Why else would he go to the lengths he had? And more than anything she wanted to bring him pleasure in any way she could.
Those devastating eyes fixed on her as he swirled the wine around the crystal, giving it air, then took a sip before dipping one of his sinfully adroit fingers into the ruby depths.
Memories of the debauched passion those hands could wreak made the briny ocean breeze stutter in her lungs and she panted out, ‘Thane…I think maybe I should turn in for the night. I’m tired and I…’
I’m petrified I will give in, and it would be so reckless, so stupid, no matter how much we both want it.
She inhaled deeply, grappling for strength, only to be drugged by his dark, delicious scent. It infused her lust-addled mind and corrupted her veins. It blazed a firestorm through her midriff that eventually simmered low in her abdomen in a searing burn.
Venturing to eradicate that hot, dark pulse at her core, she squirmed to sit upright in the recliner. ‘Thane…I should go to bed.’
By morning she’d have figured out what to do. What to say. How to explain.
‘Do you think I don’t know what I do to you, Luciana? Do you think I can’t hear and see your body crying out for mine? Stop fighting this, angel. It’s inevitable.’
Claret drizzled down his finger in red droplets as he reached up and painted her lips with the lusty juice, let the rich flavour flow over her tongue, where it blossomed into an ecstasy of ripened grapes, aged wood and sunlight.
With a whimper she flicked her tongue over the very tip and sucked it into her mouth, loving the underlying saltiness and texture of his skin.
A feral groan ripped past his throat and he stared at her glistening lips, where her tongue swirled around his finger… Then he whipped it out, swooped down and captured her mouth in an erotic devouring kiss.
Push him away, Luce. Do it now…
Luciana laced her fingers through his hair, fisting tight so he couldn’t escape, and slanted her mouth over his, licking between his lips, duelling with the sinful lash of his tongue in total surrender.
She’d missed this so much. Kissing. Being held close. The amazing feeling of intimacy with a man—her man. Being a sensual woman, someone who was desired. Cosseted. Craved with a burning urgency that rendered her almost weak. It was heady and powerful and she’d missed it.
The robust richness of the wine blended with the potent dominant piquancy that was uniquely Thane—something that exuded vice and sin and seduction—and annihilated her every thought until she was trapped, entangled in his wicked snare.
They tore apart to breathe and yet he never stopped the cherishing ardour, only brushed kisses along her jaw and down her neck in a slow, wet slide that made her shiver and arch in a sinuous serpentine wave beneath him. Begging for his touch. Which he gave by brushing his knuckles down over her breast, teasing her nipple into a stiff peak.
Her wanton moan rent the air, and in reward he rained kisses over her cleavage where it spilled over the top of her low-cut dress. She pressed him in close to her, never wanting to let him go.
‘I want you writhing for me, Luciana.’