‘You breathe your sexuality. I offered the use of my shower and immediately you thought of us, wet, sharing that confined space. When I came to the bedroom door your pulse thundered, and if I were a betting man I’d wager that you couldn’t keep thoughts of us in my bed out of your mind. Even sharing a meal with me just now got you so hot and bothered you couldn’t formulate a civilised conversation. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.’
She gasped. ‘Yes! No! That’s totally out of— I dare you to tell me you weren’t thinking those same thoughts!’
Surprise preceded a flare of heat across his cheekbones. Then he shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But I’m better at compartmentalising my emotions than you are. I don’t rush to assumptions.’
‘Oh, really? You’ve rushed to find me guilty of everything so far.’
‘Because I can’t ignore the evidence. To overlook it would be extremely naïve. And that is one thing I’m not.’
Her fingers clutched the lapels of her borrowed coat at her throat, as if she would keep his sharp words out. ‘Of course not. You’re above reproach, above temptation, unlike the rest of us mere mortals. But you know what suppressing your feelings does to you eventually? It deadens you inside.’
His brow quirked in silent mockery. ‘You think I’m dead inside?’
He seized one of her hands and laid it flat against his chest. His heart beat heavy and steady beneath her palm before he drew it slowly down, past his belt, to the thick evidence of his manhood.
‘I don’t think you want a reminder of how quickly I can refute that statement, cherie.’
She heard movement behind her and wrenched her hand free as the pilot and Mathilde approached. Bastien grasped her arm and propelled her down the short steps.
Ana forced one foot in front of the other, reeling from Bastien’s words as they approached a black Bentley waiting on the tarmac.
‘Our last encounter confirmed to me that you’re an intensely sexual creature, Miss Duval, with impulses that define who you are,’ he whispered into her ear.
The sound of her name on his lips, spoken with that sexy French lilt, caused her stomach to flip in the most alarming way, making her miss the actual words he’d uttered.
‘Don’t presume that you and I are the same.’
Anger finally loosened her tongue. ‘That’s great—because I wouldn’t wish to be anything like you if you paid me a billion dollars.’ Snatching her arm away, she stalked to the car and slid into the seat.
He followed, and for the second time that day she found herself enclosed in the back of a luxury car with Bastien Heidecker. Only this time they weren’t on opposite sides. This time he slid in next to her, his thigh coming to rest so dangerously close to hers that heat from his body surrounded her like a force field.
He started to reach for his seatbelt and her eyes dropped to the hard expanse of his chest underneath the fitted cotton shirt. She glanced up quickly and met his mocking gaze. Traitorously, another wave of heat crawled up her face.
‘Save the act, Miss Duval. Pretending outrage while your eyes devour me wears thin after a while,’ he sliced at her.
‘God, you are full of yourself, aren’t you? The outrage is real. I’ve never met anyone more infuriating than you. And there’s nothing remotely sexual about that!’
She was so intent on congratulating herself with her comeback she didn’t acknowledge the charged silence until his hand landed on her shoulder.
‘Then this shouldn’t affect you too much.’
‘Wha—?’
His lips slanted over hers before the word could come out.
Ana’s world imploded.
Every coherent thought, every ounce of outrage, fled as she experienced Bastien—up close and devastatingly personal.
His kiss started out as a ruthless lesson and very quickly became something else. Something that made her stomach muscles quiver.
His lips, hot and urgent, branded hers, evoking such electrifying reactions she could do nothing but cling on, open herself to the pleasure drenching her.
Never had she been kissed like this. Never had need pummelled her so relentlessly. The fist she aimed at his chest unfurled and slid over warm corded muscles to band around his neck. Thick, luxurious hair caressed her fingertips and she explored the strands, experiencing a whole new sensual feast as she moulded his scalp in her hands. She would never have imagined hair could be this sensual to touch...? Who was she kidding? Everything with Bastien held an extra-special edge that threatened to floor her.
Bastien had called her reaction to him an act. Except it wasn’t an act. The world might think Ana Duval represented sex on legs, but the truth would shock them even more. The fact was that she was as far removed from being sexually promiscuous as was humanly possible.
‘You are an intensely sexual creature...’