The Billionaire's Virgin Box Set

Lindsay was desperately conscious of the slow build of warmth low in her pelvis and suddenly she was angry with him—angry with him for making her feel this way.

Obviously he thought that the clothes and the setting would guarantee the outcome he wanted.

Well, she was about to show him how wrong he was about her.

‘Those canapés do look delicious,’ she said sweetly. ‘Maybe I will try one after all.’ She leaned forward again and this time she made no attempt to prevent her dress from offering what she was sure was a generous glimpse of cleavage.

Without once glancing in his direction, she nibbled at the corner of a pastry and then gave a soft moan and licked her lips. ‘That,’ she murmured softly, ‘tastes absolutely sublime.’ Closing her eyes, she slowly slid the rest of the morsel between her lips and chewed slowly. Then she opened her eyes and looked straight at him, challenge in her gaze.

His eyes were black and deadly and held hers for a long, disturbing moment. His long, bronzed fingers toyed idly with the stem of his wineglass and she felt a wicked, delicious curl of excitement low in her belly as the tension between them rocketed to the point of explosion.

‘You look warm, Alessio.’ Her voice calm and steady, she reached for the refreshing cocktail that had been placed by her plate. ‘Is something wrong?’

His eyes held hers for a long, pulsing moment and when he finally spoke his voice was husky with the sizzling tension that was bubbling up between them. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘What am I doing? Simply enjoying the food and the surroundings.’ And proving to herself that she was in control. That she could resist this man. ‘Presumably that’s what you intended when you set this up. Or did you have something else in mind, Alessio?’

‘You’re playing with fire, tesoro,’ he warned softly, ‘and you’re going to be burned.’

‘Fire is perfectly safe as long as you know how to handle it.’

His gaze didn’t shift from hers. ‘Perhaps that depends on the heat of the flame.’

Sure of herself—proud of herself—Lindsay smiled. ‘You’re hot, Alessio,’ she said calmly, ‘but you’re not that hot.’

‘No? So why can’t you stop thinking about sex? Why are you sitting there trying to wipe out images of the two of us together in that enormous canopied bed?’

She gave a tiny gasp, but there was no emotion in his cool gaze, just a glimmer of masculine satisfaction that showed her that, no matter how hard she tried to shift the balance, he still had the upper hand.

‘Your misplaced degree of confidence in yourself must mean that you’re often disappointed.’

‘I’ll tell you whether I’m disappointed when you’re naked underneath me and I’m deep inside you.’

‘I can’t believe you just said that.’ Lindsay rose to her feet, knocking her drink over in the process.

With supersonic reflexes, a lean, bronzed hand shot out and caught the glass, preventing a spillage.

‘What can’t you believe? The fact that I thought it? Or the fact that I said it?’ Suddenly he had the upper hand again and she lifted a hand to her throat, feeling her pulse racing under the tips of her fingers.

His words had created a vivid image that she couldn’t dismiss from her head. An image she’d been trying hard not to look at.

‘For a supposedly highly intelligent male, you’re extremely narrow-minded.’

‘I’m honest. I’m telling you what I’m thinking. Sit down, Lindsay. You’ve been goading me all evening. You can’t expect me not to respond.’

‘Not every man is as obsessed with sex as you.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Lindsay, I’m a normal, red-blooded male with a healthy sex drive. I’ve never denied that. You’ve been sucking your fingers, moaning with pleasure and flashing your gorgeous breasts at me for the last half hour. What did you expect?’

‘I expected the reaction I got.’ She sat back down, her gaze wary. ‘Which just goes to show that despite your intelligence, you think with your hormones and not your brain. Which in turn explains why you’ve never sustained a relationship outside the bedroom.’

‘I’ve never sustained a relationship outside the bedroom because that’s been my choice.’

‘What are you afraid of, Alessio?’ If she hadn’t been watching carefully she might have missed his reaction because it was swiftly controlled.

Controlled, but definitely there.

‘Do I look afraid?’