Only You (Sweet Torment 2)

The way his smile and blue eyes lit up with mischief. Like he was always on the inside of some kind of wicked secret. The way his hips moved when he walked, and his chest and arms flexed when he put his hands in his pockets. He was all man. And that tattoo . . .

Great, I may have good thoughts now, but not helpful.

Leo had some kind of Greek power that, even when he wasn’t present, made me feel things. Something I didn’t like much. Feelings were annoying and unnecessary. They complicated things. Plus, after ending my dry spell with our foray at the bar, it only made these last couple weeks of celibacy even tougher.

Issue number one? I didn’t crave sex. I craved sex with Leo. Whatever Leo had done to heat the ice that had taken up permanent residence in my body must have been some kind of powerful voodoo.

“Damn Greek magic,” I muttered as I unlocked the door, hoisted the heavy garment bag over my shoulder some more, and walked in. “Holy mother of Christ . . .”

This wasn’t just a room, this was an impression. One that said, “I enjoy the finer things.”

A sitting area with oversize leather furniture circled a large stone column in the middle of the room that held a fireplace and flat screen hanging above it. To the right was a bar with stocked shelves of liquor and four barstools.

I peeked to the left to a game area in its own space complete with pool table and low-hanging lamp above. Just beyond was a shut door. I swallowed hard . . .

The bedroom.

I was acting like a weakling. This whole area smelled like leather and brick. Masculine.

The hardwood floors and exposed wood beams made the entire place cozy and dark, like stepping inside an extravagant cabin hidden in the Rocky Mountains.

Everything was rich and expensive—a bachelor’s wet dream.

“You like it?”

I shivered when Leo came up behind me. I spun to face him.

“I was just going to leave this”—I set the bag across the back of the couch—“and go.”

“Okay. But that’s not where I asked you to put it.”

I glanced around and my eyes landed on the shut door. I hadn’t actually seen his bed. Not that I needed to or anything.

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

I picked up the bag once more and took a few steps toward the bedroom door.

“You never answered my question,” he said, following me.

“Do I like your rooms?” I glanced around. “It looks like your big mansion swallowed a little mansion.”

He laughed and the sound did something weird to my chest. I wanted to make him laugh again. It felt like I had accomplished something by hearing that contagious chuckle. Everything from the way he held himself to the way he spoke was relaxed. Not at all in line with the domineering, wealthy, powerful-man syndrome so many had. But power still radiated from him. And it was effortless. Something I’d give a hell of a lot for. He commanded respect and grace.

“What can I say? I enjoy a man cave.”

“Man cave? More like a man mountain,” I mumbled.

He smiled wide and, for some reason, mine widened too. I cleared my throat, realizing I was in Leo’s private quarters. With him. Alone. And my body was already tingling with traitorous tremors that itched for his hands to ease the ache.

“I’ll just leave this.” I went to set the hanger on the door handle of his bedroom and Leo stopped me.

“Is there a reason you’re purposefully going against what I asked?” Leo’s amusement was obvious in every word he spoke. “Perhaps you don’t want to go into my bedroom?” He tapped his chin and looked at the ceiling. “But why oh why? Ah!” He snapped his fingers. “Is the big bad Red scared?” He took another step toward me. “Maybe worried that once you go in, you may want to stay?” His voice dropped an octave and the deep husk of it danced over me like a warm blanket.

“I’m not scared,” I said, but my words didn’t sound very convincing.

“Just like you weren’t scared of my five-year-old niece?”