Exotic Nights

‘OK,’ he said calmly, ‘feel them now.’ He took her hand, lifted the hem of his shirt and before she knew it her palm was pressed to his bare abs.

OK? Hell, yes, OK!

She froze. Her mind froze. Her whole body froze. But her hand didn’t. The skin on his stomach was warm and beneath her fingers she could feel the light scratchiness of hair and then the rock-hard indents of muscles. This was no weedy-boy-who-spent-hours-in-front-of-a-computer physique. And this wasn’t just big, strong male. This was fit. Superfit.

Her fingers badly wanted to stretch out some more and explore. If she moved her thumb a fraction she’d be able to stroke below his navel. She whipped her hand out while she still had it under control.

His smile was wicked as the heat in her cheeks became unbearable. ‘And what about this tan, hmm?’ He pushed up a sleeve and displayed a bronzed forearm as if it were some treasured museum exhibit. She stared at the length of it, lightly hair-dusted, muscle flexing, she could see the clear outline of a thick vein running down to the back of a very broad palm. Very real, very much alive—and strong. She was taken with his hand for some time.

Finally she got back the ability to speak. ‘Is the tan all-over-body?’

‘If you’re lucky you might get to find out.’

The guy had some nerve. But he was laughing as he said it.

‘So why are you single, then?’ she said, trying to adopt an acidic tone. ‘I mean, if you’re such a catch, why haven’t you been caught already?’

‘You misunderstand the game, sweetheart,’ he answered softly. ‘I’m not the prey. I’m the predator.’

And if she could bring herself to admit it, she wanted him to pounce on her right now. But she was still working on defence and denial. ‘Well, you’re not that good, then, are you? Where’s your catch tonight?’

The only answer was a quick lift of his brows and a wink.

She pressed her lips together, but couldn’t quite stop them quirking upwards. ‘You hunt often?’

He laughed outright at that, shaking his head. She wasn’t sure if it was a negative to her question or simple disbelief at the conversation in general. ‘I’m like a big-game animal—one hunt will last me some time.’ His eyes caught hers again. ‘And I only hunt when I see something really, really juicy.’

Juicy, huh? Her juices were running now and that voice in her head saying ‘eat me’ really should be shot.

His laughter resurfaced, though not as loud, and she knew he’d twigged her thoughts.

Still she refused to join in. ‘But you don’t keep your catches.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Catch and release. That’s the rule.’

Hmm. Bella wasn’t so sure about the strategy. ‘What if she doesn’t want to be released?’

‘Ah, but she does,’ he corrected. ‘Because she understands the rules of the game. And even if she doesn’t, it won’t take long until she wants out.’

Her mouth dropped. She couldn’t imagine any woman wanting to get away from this guy’s net. Flirting outrageously was too much fun—especially when the flirt had a body like this and eyes like those.

His smile sharpened round the edges. ‘I have it on good authority that I’m very selfish.’

‘Ah-h-h.’ She was intrigued. That smacked of bitter-ex-girlfriend speak. Was he playing the field on the rebound? ‘You’ve never wanted to catch and keep?’

He grimaced. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

For the first time he looked serious. ‘Nothing keeps. Things don’t ever stay the same.’ He paused, the glint resurfaced. ‘The answer is to go for what you want, when you want it.’

‘And after that?’

He didn’t reply, merely shrugged his shoulders.

Bella took another sip of the spritzer and contemplated what she knew to be the ultimate temptation before her—defence and denial crumbling. ‘After that’ didn’t matter really, did it? He had a beautiful body and a sense of humour—what more would a confident, cosmopolitan woman want for an evening? And wasn’t that what she was—for tonight?

‘So, now that you know something about me,’ he said, ‘tell me, what do you do?’