Page 22 of Lawless in Leather

What was it?

She tried to think but he was hard against her and her thoughts collided, skittered, and dissolved when he moved and the hard length of him under his clothes hit her exactly right.

God.

No.

She had to think.

Think.

But he felt so good.

With some shred of self-preservation gathered from who knows where, she disentangled her hands from where they clutched his shirt, put them on his chest, ignoring the urge to grip him again, and pushed herself away from him. The effort left her breathless as she stared down at him.

He stared back, his eyes gone dark and dangerous, pupils wide, chest moving as rapidly as hers.

Crap.

So much for trying to scare him off with a kiss.

She should have remembered that kissing men like Mal rarely did anything but encourage them. It was the nice ones who were scared away by her being flirtatious and forward.

Though, as she looked at Mal and he looked at her, clearly just as dazed by that damned kiss as she was, she was struggling to remember exactly why she wanted a nice boy when there was a man like Mal at her fingertips.

Sanity.

Safety.

That was why. She was going for grown-up and adult. Going for stable. She was too old for the roaming insecure life of a Broadway dancer; that was why she’d started Madame R. And that meant she was responsible for people. For everyone who worked for her, for the ones who hired the space, for the women who came here for classes and an escape, for the audiences that came every night, looking for a bit of sparkle and sizzle and mystery.

She couldn’t let people down. Couldn’t lose her bearings—or more—because of a man.

Or not a man like Malachi Coulter.

The weight of those deep, dark eyes rested on her, the banked heat in them warming her skin all over again.

He hadn’t pulled her close again, hadn’t made any demands. No, he was just waiting, his hands resting, so lightly she was only just able to feel them, at her hips.

Being a gentleman.

Being a good guy.

But he couldn’t hide it. She’d kissed him now and she knew that spark when she felt it. There was the same wildness and need at the heart of this man as there was at hers.

Two sparks would make a fire.

An all-consuming, destroying fire. Leaving ashes and destruction and pain.

So. No Mal for her.

A deep breath. Then another.

“Well,” she managed. “That was … nice. Useful. Thank you.”

One of his eyebrows twitched upward and a dimple appeared in one cheek as his mouth curved. “Useful?”

“Informative,” she said brightly, trying to ignore the urge to start kissing him again. Her cheeks were flaming, she was sure. And she hardly ever blushed. “Very.”

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