Captured by You (One Night of Passion 1.60)

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears in the silent seconds that followed.

“What . . . what would you do with them? The photos?”

“Treasure them, I expect.”

Her heart paused in her chest at his simple response.

“I’ll never let another soul see them, save you. Please. I want the opportunity to show you what I see when I look at you. I want the chance to celebrate you. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

That pierced through the fog of mesmerized arousal he’d formed around her, striking her as patently ridiculous.

“Give me a break,” she said, standing from her desk, feeling vulnerable. She lowered the screen on his computer, hiding the offending—compelling—image. “You probably say something similar to women in every city, village and hamlet you visit across the globe in order to get a woman to take off her clothes for you.”

“No. I don’t.”

His quiet forcefulness caused her to pause. The door chimes tinkled in the distance.

“I don’t photograph people. I’m a landscape photographer.”

She swallowed thickly. She believed him for some reason. Maybe because he was so patently sexy, there’d be no reason for him to have to think of stupid scenarios to get a woman naked and into bed with him. Besides, she’d seen his magnificent nature photos. Something told her he’d never sully his camera by using it regularly for taking photos of naked women for lewd purposes.

But those photos of her naked were the exact opposite of lewd. They were sexual, yes, but powerful to the extreme. They didn’t debase her sexuality; they celebrated it.

“I . . . I have to go. There’s a customer,” she said, coming around the desk.

He stood and took a step toward her, halting her exit.

“Sherona?”

“Yes,” she muttered, staring at the buttons on his shirt, keeping her head lowered so that he couldn’t see the throb of her pulse at her throat.

“Will you think about it?”

“I . . . I’m not sure.”

Her eyes went wide when he touched her cheek. She looked up, startled. His face was suddenly very close, his features striking her as bold and chiseled, rugged and masculine, yet perfectly harmonious. She could smell his aftershave and something that reminded her of fresh air and the woods.

“You have every right not to believe me, but I’m completely captivated by you,” he said gently, his warm, fragrant breath striking her lips. He brushed his mouth across hers in a questing kiss. Without thinking, she submitted to his heat . . . his touch. She moved her lips against his, sliding and shaping. She blinked when he made a low, gruff sound of arousal. He placed his hand along her neck in a possessive gesture and bent over her, sliding his tongue between her lips.

Liquid heat surged between her legs at the feeling of his tongue p

lunging into her mouth. His taste flooded her, blinding her to all else—peppermint and some subtle flavor she couldn’t put a name to, but recognized with every cell of her female body. Her world narrowed to the sensation of his tongue dueling with her own, exploring her possessively, sucking on her sweetly until she moaned as if in answer to his call.

He shifted his hands to her waist and pulled her tight against him, his thumbs caressing the sides of her body in a lazy circular motion that caused pleasure to curl tight in her lower belly. She instinctively pressed closer to his body, seeking out the evidence of his arousal and gloriously finding it. He was warm and male and so hard, it sent a thrill of sexual anticipation through her unlike she’d ever experienced in her life.

He moaned roughly into her mouth. She whimpered in displeasure, shocking herself, when he broke their kiss. He nibbled at her upturned lips with a barely restrained hunger.

“I’ll take such good care of you, Sherona,” he murmured. “Let me capture you with my camera. I want to see pleasure blazing from your face. I want to see you wet like you were the other day when you came out of the lake, but this time with desire. I want to show you how you can look, how you can feel.”

Sherona stared, overwhelmed, confused and blatantly aroused by his tensely uttered words. It was hard to think with his body pressed against hers, the taste of him still on her tongue, his large hands holding her so possessively, a hot promise in his eyes. She stepped back, breaking their embrace, her hand covering her lips as if she foolishly thought she could wipe away the memory of that kiss.

As if. She’d probably be able to perfectly describe that kiss on her dying day.

She gave him a wild, desperate glance and headed toward the diner. She was making some coffee for her customers a minute later when he came out of the back room.

“Is there a good time to come back tomorrow so that you can show me the cooperative farm and anything else you think should be featured in the brochure?” he asked her.

She glanced at him sideways. His voice had been decidedly neutral. She appreciated his backing off sufficiently so that she could think. Viewing those photographs with him, hearing him say those outlandishly sexy things, kissing him, had been a highly unsettling and intimate experience.