The Innocent Behind the Scandal (The Marchetti Dynasty 2)

But the nerves, the sense of panic, the desire to prove him wrong...all was incinerated in a flash of electric heat as soon as her lips met the firm contours of his mouth.

Zoe was vaguely aware that she’d intended this to be a quick physical transaction, merely to prove Maks Marchetti wrong. But she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. Her lips clung to his in a timeless moment when everything was suspended on a breath...which she finally let out like a sigh against his mouth.

It was a sigh of resignation, a sigh of futility, a sigh of recognition that the hectic throbbing pulse of her blood wasn’t just because she was a human reacting to a virile male. It was because something in her resonated so deeply with something in him that she would never be the same again.

She could feel the sheer whipcord strength of his body but she was still not close enough. She wanted to move against him, let all that heat and strength envelop her.

Of their own volition her lips opened, as if they literally couldn’t bear to keep shut. Breath flowed. Her tongue-tip moved forward, seeking to taste. But she had barely touched the seam of his mouth when she suddenly realised what she was doing and pulled back, as if stung.

Maks Marchetti was looking at her. She realised that she was still clinging to him, reaching up, straining to get closer. She pulled her hands off him and stepped back so suddenly she almost fell.

Her cheeks burned. She ducked her head and let her hair fall around her face. She was terrified to look at him again and see his expression. Terrified to get confirmation of what she’d set out to prove—that he couldn’t possibly want her.

She’d failed miserably in proving she didn’t want him, though. She’d been clinging to him like a monkey, and she was sure he’d only been seconds away from having to physically remove her—

‘Zoe... I can practically hear your thoughts, they’re so loud.’

She looked up before she could stop herself. His eyes were glittering, almost silver now. His mouth was quirking. This was even worse. He was laughing at her.

Zoe stalked over to the door and pulled it open. She didn’t look at him again. ‘I think you should leave now.’

He came over and the door was pushed closed again. But Maks was still in the room. Zoe looked at him. He was shaking his head. No quirking mouth now. Deadly serious.

He reached out and tucked a loc

k of her hair behind her ear. And then he moved closer. The air grew thick and heavy. His hand was still in her hair.

He said, ‘May I?’

Zoe’s heart beat fast. He hadn’t left. He wasn’t laughing at her. He was looking at her mouth as if mesmerised and now...at her eyes. She had nowhere to hide. She just nodded.

He made a total mockery of her clumsy kiss by taking her face in his hands and tilting it up to his with an assurance born of experience and mastery. She could feel the rough abrasion of his palms and fingers against her jaw and cheeks. Rough, not smooth. Evidence that he wasn’t as civilised as he looked.

His mouth touched hers, lightly at first, as if testing... Zoe held her breath, afraid to move in case he stopped. Their breaths intermingled. He kissed the corner of her mouth, taking her by surprise. And then the other corner, where the scar dissected her lip.

Her legs felt weak. She had to lock her knees to stay standing.

And then his mouth settled over hers completely, and she had to close her eyes against the burning intensity in his for fear that he might see the effect he was having on her.

His mouth was hard, but soft, coaxing a response that she couldn’t hold back, giving it as instinctively as a flower gave itself to the power of the sun. She opened her mouth on a sigh that turned into a shiver of excitement when Maks’s tongue touched hers, demanding more, demanding everything.

Zoe had been kissed before. She’d even enjoyed it—until she hadn’t. But this went beyond mere enjoyment. This was...elemental. A conflagration burning her up from the inside out, leaving no cell untouched or un-scorched.

Time faded away. All she was aware of was the hectic beat of her heart and the pounding of her blood. She strained to get closer to Maks, winding her arms around his neck.

And then he broke the kiss.

Zoe opened her eyes with effort. She was dizzy. She realised she was all but plastered to Maks and that his hands were on her waist, helping to support her.

Her breath was choppy. Shakily she took her arms down and moved aside, dislodging Maks’s hands.

‘I think that’s proved the point,’ he said.

Her brain felt sluggish. She felt undone. ‘The point...’

‘That there’s chemistry between us.’

Was that what it was called?