Ruby’s heart leapt inside her chest. The same giddy rush she had felt in his presence two years ago welled up inside her. ‘When what?’ she asked, her voice husky.
‘When can you be ready to leave? Is thirty minutes too soon?’
Staring at his gorgeous, stony face, Ruby felt a surge of emotion and need swell inside her. The right thing to do, the safe thing to do, was to lock away all these feelings and tell him that she could be ready to go in five minutes, not thirty. But deep down she also knew that for the first time in her life she wanted something with an intensity that transcended the need for a safety net. She wanted him.
‘Yes,’ she answered, her lips dry as dust.
If possible his scowl deepened. ‘How long, then?’
Before she could change her mind Ruby walked up to him and took the phone from his hand, putting it to her ear. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, her eyes never leaving his. ‘Prank call.’ Then she depressed the End Call button and handed the device back to him, her breathing slightly ragged.
Sam stared at her, tension rolling off his big body and crashing into hers, making her insides quake.
Silence surrounded them, broken only by the soft sounds of Kong dreaming from his basket, and the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.
‘Be very sure, Ruby,’ Sam said quietly, his voice rough and deep. ‘My self-control isn’t that good right now.’
Ruby moistened her lips, excited by the way Sam’s dark gaze tracked the movement. It gave her a rush of feminine power to know that she turned on this highly charged male to such a degree. ‘Neither is mine.’
Sam took a step that brought him right up against her and slowly drew her into his arms, his fingers tilting her chin up so that her eyes stayed locked on his. Heat poured off him, pressing against her body like sun-drenched stone. He was so tall and powerfully built she couldn’t prevent the thrill of excitement that raced through her.
‘No more denials?’ he said fiercely.
‘No.’
‘And no more masks.’
‘No.’
His hands shifted to her waist, rough and insistent as he lifted her so that her legs came up to wind around his waist.
‘And no more pretending that this is about an itch any man can scratch.’
‘Did it annoy you when I agreed with that?’
‘Extremely,’ he growled.
A thrill shot through her at the possessive note in his voice. ‘Sam?’
‘What?’
Ruby leaned forward and kissed the side of his neck the way he liked, breathing in his heady scent and revelling in the delirious taste of salt and man that was quintessentially Sam. ‘Are you ever going to kiss me again?’
His smile was slow and lazy and promised passionate retribution for her impudence. ‘Just waiting for you to ask me, Clarkson,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Just waiting for you to ask.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
NOW THAT HE had her exactly where he wanted her, Sam felt his fingers tremble as he was gripped by a powerful emotion he couldn’t name. It was deeper than anything he’d ever felt with a woman before and it nearly gave him pause. He knew this thing with Ruby was all-consuming but he was fairly certain he had a handle on it. Or was he only fooling himself?
Carrying her toward the bedroom, he bit down gently on the silky flesh of her earlobe, rewarded by her deep shudder and the quick, feminine hitch in her voice. She arched her neck to give him free licence to roam.
Of course he wasn’t fooling himself. This thing, this incendiary chemistry between them, was just that. Chemistry and heat and—
‘Dammit, Kong!’ Sam cursed as he pushed open the door to the bedroom he’d used the night before and nearly tripped over the puppy that rushed in ahead of him. ‘Sit!’ he commanded, not caring if the pup obeyed him or not.
‘Did he sit?’ Ruby asked, nibbling his lower lip.
‘Don’t care,’ he muttered. Her teasing ministrations had stripped away every vestige of sophistication he possessed and left a Cro-Magnon Man in his place. Still, he forced himself to slow down and lowered her to the centre of the bed. A row of tiny buttons split her nightshirt and Sam’s gaze fastened on them, taking in the twin points of her hard nipples, which poked through the thin fabric. Unable to help himself, he lowered his head and captured one tight bud between his lips, bathing the cloth with his tongue.