Page 13 of Love In Translation

Rheo nodded. “Getting there.”

Fletcher winced at the graze on her forehead. It was a typical carpet burn, and he noticed another on her chin. He touched it gently and frowned at a smear of blood on the tip of his finger. “Why the hell didn’t you use your hands to break your fall?” he demanded.

“I have no damn idea. Stupid.” Color flooded back into her face, thank God.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I’m fine, but my pride is in tatters.”

Fletch pulled her into a sitting position, and Rheo bent her legs and rested her wrists on her knees. She looked at the ceiling, then at a spot past his shoulder, her feet—anywhere but at him.

“So, it’s pretty obvious I have no eye, hand, and body coordination.”

He’d noticed. “Do you do this kind of thing often?” he asked, easily keeping his balance while squatting. He inhaled a hit of her, a combination of shower gel and shampoo, and his pants tightened.Jesus.

Rheo wrinkled her nose. God,adorable.

“Often enough. I once stepped onto a train, stumbled, and caused a row of people to topple like upright dominoes doing a nosedive. I’m a complete klutz.”

“You can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, I can. I once ran into a hotel, desperate to use the restroom. I ran straight into a mirrored wall. The bathroom was across the hallway, and I ran into the reflection.”

He scrubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Okay, he was starting to believe her. “You’re also a klutz with a carpet burn on your forehead and chin,” he told her, pushing to his feet. He held out his hand. “Next time, put your hands out to break your fall.”

“I know that,” she shot back. “But the thought came too late. It’s like my brain doesn’t get those messages. But I can translate—speak and listen to the next sentence in four languages and not so fluently in another two.”

She spoke six languages? Holy crap.Astounding.Fletcher tightened his grip on her hand and launched her to her feet. But he put too much heft into his pull—accidently on purpose?—and she shot up. This time she remembered to put her hands out and they bounced off his chest.

He gripped her hips—she was as unbalanced as a baby foal—and every nerve in his body went on high alert.

Rheo lowered her hands to hold his wrists, and her thumb drifted over his skin, sneaking under the leather and copper bracelets he wore on his right wrist. Was the skin on her neck as silky as it looked? Was her hair as soft as he imagined? He lifted his hand and ran his knuckle along the cord of her neck and over her jawbone, stopping to wrap a strand of her hair around his finger. Rheo’s eyes remained on his chest, so he tipped her chin and her eyes smashed into his.

He’d only seen that shade of blue once before, in Poço Azul, a cave pool in the Bahia region of Brazil. Like that South American pool, her eyes held secrets, as well as confusion and a healthy dose ofOh, shit—what’s happening?But when his thumb drifted over her full bottom lip, he caught a flash of lust, hot and bright.

He needed her closer, so Fletch placed his hand on her lower back and pulled her to him. Thigh to thigh, chest to chest, a sweet bundle smelling of wildflowers. She tensed, just a little, and he loosened his grip to allow her to push off him, to put some space between them. If that was what she wanted to do.

Rheo’s eyes stayed on his, and when she tipped her hips and pushed her stomach into his pipe-hard cock, he couldn’t wait a millisecond longer. His mouth covered hers in a move that was far from smooth. As his lips touched hers, his brain signed off, and instinct kicked in.

In all the world, there was only Rheo—she was all that mattered. Her body, soft, feminine, and fragrant, pressed against his, was all he needed.

Fletch tasted strawberry lip balm on her lips as his tongue traced the seam of her mouth, before gently sucking her lower lip between his. She shuddered, gripped and twisted his shirt in her small fist, and sighed, her hot breath hitting his lips. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into the spice of her mouth. Rheo made a sexy sound in the back of her throat and pushed her hard nipples into his chest, her stomach even more into his throbbing dick.

So good, so freakin’ good.

Her fingers streaked through his hair, down his back, but he could only concentrate on her sexy, hot mouth moving under his, demanding more. Demandingeverything...

A klaxon went off in his head, DANGER written in six-foot-high neon letters.

He was an experienced guy, but her hot response made him want to dive into her, to lose himself.

He was a master of situational awareness—his life depended on it—but Rheo made the world narrow to only her and what they were doing, how she made him feel.

Reckless, impetuous, thoughtless...everything he usually wasn’t, and everything he couldn’t afford to be. He knew how to compartmentalize, could keep pieces of himself apart, but this woman, with her smooth legs and curves and gorgeous wildflower smell and sexy mouth had his synapses misfiring.

One small hand drifted over his hip, came to rest on his pec directly above his heart. For some bullshit reason, her action was too much, too intense, so he lifted her hand off his body and held it.

Lust, attraction, sex...those were easy to handle. And that was all this was, all it could ever be.

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