Captured by You (One Night of Passion 1.60) - Page 18

“No. It’d be . . . disrespectful somehow,” she said, feeling a little foolish. Still, it was true. She’d helped Katie pick out some items for the guesthouse and had seen it in various stages of completion. She’d feel ridiculous going in there, uninvited by the Pierces, to sleep with their houseguest. Chance touched her jaw, and she recognized it as a prompt. She looked up at him. His hair was mussed and his eyelids had the heavy look of a sexually satisfied male. He looked delicious. She slid an inch higher along his length, abrading her nipples against his solid body. His eyes darkened in appreciation.

“Are you serious? You’re not going to spend the night with me because you’re worried about imposing on Katie and Rill?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t spend the night with you. You can come to my house, if you like. Derek is gone for a few days.”

Her softly spoken words seemed to cling overly long in the warm, golden light. His nostrils flared slightly as his gaze ran over her face. She couldn’t help wonder what he saw there. “You’ve got yourself a deal, gorgeous,” he muttered before he slid his hand to the back of her head, pushed her to him and kissed her so thoroughly, they almost didn’t vacate the woods before nightfall.

* * *

By the time they entered her small, comfortable bungalow situated at the edge of Vulture’s Canyon and the woods, some of her nervous excitement about spending time with Chance began to mount once again. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe she deserved a sexy fling with a gorgeous man. No, it wasn’t that at all. Lord knows, living in Vulture’s Canyon her entire life, she’d had rare enough opportunities for something so tempting. She wasn’t foolish enough to run when the chance presented itself.

It was just that, sitting next to him in the car as he drove back into town, she’d started to realize just how attractive she found him—and not just sexually, either. He was warm and smart and had been to every corner of the earth and everywhere in between. In many ways, he lived the type of life she’d always fantasized about, knowing all along her dreams would never come true.

He put the car into park and peered curiously out the front windshield at her attractive little bungalow bathed in the evening light.

“It’s a ripper. Pretty and neat as a pin,” he said. “Just like you.”

“Thanks,” Sherona said, her cheeks warming.

She led him inside, glancing around anxiously as she tried to picture what her modest home looked like to his experienced eyes. He hardly seemed judgmental, mostly just interested. He walked around her living room, checking out her photos and studying her book collection..

“There’s one you might find interesting,” Sherona said when she came up behind him with two glasses of iced tea. She handed him a glass and pointed at his photography book. “Derek gave it to me last Christmas.”

“What do you know?” Chance said, grinning. He flipped open the coffee-table book and grimaced at his author photo on the back leaflet. “You’ve had my ugly mug in your house all along.”

Sherona stepped closer and peered over his arm. “It’s a good picture,” she said fairly. She glanced up at him and took a swallow of her tea. “The real thing is nicer, though.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. When things started to get heated, Chance twisted toward her and spilled some of his tea on the book. “Sorry,” he said, wiping up the drops of water with his hand. “How come Derek bought you this book, anyway?” he asked as he finished drying the page and replaced the photography book in her bookcase.

“Oh, I started doing some photography . . . just as a hobby, you know,” she said, feeling the embarrassment most people feel when they admit to attempting an art form in the presence of a master. “Derek knew I was interested in nature photography, and we have so many pretty landscapes around here, he thought I’d like your book. He was right, by the way. Your talent amazes me.”

“Thanks,” he repeated with a warm, natural grace that appealed to her just as much as his careless male sexuality. “What kind of camera do you have?” he asked, sitting down on the sofa situated before her bookcase and fireplace. He nodded with interest when she told him. “Can I see some of the photos you’ve taken?”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Oh, no. I don’t think so. I’m such an amateur, Chance.”

“Did you take that one?” Chance asked, pointing at the framed photo of spring flowers in a meadow, in-focus bluebells and goldenrod and daisies in the foreground, the background a blur of wild, vibrant prairie.

“Yes,” Sherona admitted, suddenly wishing she could melt into the sofa and disappear.

“It’s really good. You’re a natural,” Chance said so matter-of-factly that she blinked.

“You’re just saying that.”

He gave her that devilish Aussie grin, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement, and took a sip of his tea. “You mean to get you into bed?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You already did that.”

“Not really,” he said, reaching out and touching her hand. She turned it over and watched, mesmerized as he stroked her palm with a long finger. “I’ve never been to bed with you, and I haven’t spent anywhere near the time and attention I want to, making love to you. But that’s not the point. Your photograph is good, Sherona. You have a natural understanding of light and perspective.”

“Thanks,” she said, genuinely flattered. She’d entered a sort of dazed trance, watching him stroke her palm, feeling it with every cell in her body. “I think I’ll make you dinner for saying that.”

“Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any better.”

She gave him a knowing glance, but grinned. He was an effortless charmer, to be sure. Still . . . it was nice to allow herself to be charmed for once. Chance was right. A day like today didn’t come around but once in a lifetime.

Chance took a shower while she washed up and whipped together a chicken, wild rice and vegetable casserole. He came strolling out of the bathroom at the same time she was popping it into the oven. He looked more edible than her casserole, still buttoning up his shirt, his damp hair falling on his forehead.

“Something smells great,” he said.

Tags: Bethany Kane, Beth Kery One Night of Passion Erotic
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