“Right. You have someone following me twenty-four hours a day whether I like it or not, and I’m supposed to accept that without complaint.”
“Exactly. So there’s nothing to fight about, right?”
“If you say so,” she muttered.
“Which brings us to what you’re really afraid of—that we won’t fight.”
She scowled at his hand on her arm. “Wanna bet?”
Ignoring her, he continued, “You’re afraid we’ll be alone up there together—not fighting—and things will start getting intense again.”
“That’s not—”
He reached out with his free hand to slide his fingers beneath her chin and turn her face toward him. “We’d start kissing again—and you’d enjoy it. Again. And that scares you all the way down to your toes.”
“You obviously had too much wine with dinner,” she said, trying to sound haughty instead of panicky. “It’s gone straight to your head.”
“I had half a glass because my father ordered a wine he knows I don’t like. You know I’m right, Grace.”
“About the wine? How could I know—?”
“About the kisses,” he interrupted with strained patience. “That’s what really scares you, isn’t it?”
“I’m not afraid of you, Bryan.”
His face was very close to hers now. “Then maybe you’re afraid of your own feelings.”
“That’s ridicu—”
The man had an exasperating habit of kissing her right in the middle of her sentences. She had swallowed so many words lately, she’d probably gained an extra pound or two. He made her so darned crazy that she wrapped her arms around his neck and almost angrily kissed him back.
Twisting in his seat, he enveloped her in an embrace that nearly squeezed all the air from her lungs. His mouth was hard and demanding on hers. There was nothing tentative about this kiss, no holding back on either side.
Bryan had always been very careful to control his hands when he kissed her before; this time he let them roam. And, oh, was he good with them!
Her loose summer top proved no hindrance to his explorations. For the first time, she felt the heat of his palms on the bare skin of her sides and her back. And when his hands slipped between them and moved upward, her breasts ached to feel his touch there, as well.
She had fantasized about having him touch her more often than she cared to admit, dreamed of making love with him more times than she could remember. And he was absolutely right—it scared her senseless.
Because she had also fantasized about touching him, and because this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, she unlocked her arms from around his neck and slid them down his chest. Her fingers flexed against him, testing the solid feel of him, and she marveled again that he was more firmly muscled than his slender build would indicate at first glance.
Her imagination was definitely in high gear now, as she imagined how he would feel beneath his finely tailored clothes.
She shuddered when his hands finally closed over her breasts, his thumbs moving lazily, yet skillfully, over the thin fabric of her bra. A sound escaped her, muffled by his mouth against hers.
Excitement and a growing need for oxygen were making her dizzy. She clutched at his forearms, and she couldn’t have said whether her intent was to pull his hands away or to hold them more tightly against her.
This time it was Bryan who made a choked sound. She knew immediately that it was not a murmur of pleasure. Realizing that she was tightly gripping his left forearm—she could feel the bandages beneath his jacket sleeve—she gasped, tore her mouth from beneath his, and immediately dropped her hands. “I hurt your arm. I’m so sorry—”
Shaking his head, he steadied her when she would have jerked away from him. “It’s okay,” he said. “You just happened to brush against the only small part of my arm that’s still a little raw. It was an accident, and no damage was done. I hardly even feel it now.”
She felt terrible that she had gotten so carried away with her own sensations that she’d forgotten about his injuries. “Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you should—”
“Grace,” he cut in firmly, “I’m fine. Really. It was just a twinge.”
Hastily rearranging her clothes, she wondered how on earth everything had gotten so out of hand. Hadn’t they been arguing? Hadn’t she been intent on getting out of this car and safely locked inside her apartment to avoid any more kisses or serious conversation? Hadn’t she told herself before she’d left for this dinner tonight that if Bryan did try to kiss her again, she would let him know firmly and finally that she wasn’t interested?
So much for even trying to pretend that she was completely unaffected by his kisses.