Page 19 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

He snagged her wrist—and felt her stiffen right up again as awareness flared in her eyes.

‘Not so fast, Belle,’ he said, the devil in him ramping up as her pulse punched his thumb. ‘Why don’t you kiss it off?’

Her delicate brows shot up her forehead. And he saw her throat contract as she swallowed. ‘I...Really?’

‘Uh-huh. It’ll make the perfect picture,’ he said, as if this were still just for show... And had nothing to do with the heat that had been building all afternoon.

She turned, but he grasped her chin to prevent her from searching out the photographers.

‘Pretend they’re not there,’ he said. ‘And it’s just the two of us, on a hot date. We want this to look convincing,’ he said, smoothly, even though he felt the opposite of smooth right now—the desire in his gut already convincing enough.

She gave a slight nod. But uncertainty and self-consciousness still shadowed her expression—as if she really had no clue how to approach this.

‘Take a sip of your own drink,’ he directed, realising he was going to have to talk her through the process... Why did that only make the need more vicious? The desire more intense?

Surprise flickered in her eyes, but the awareness remained—rich and vivid—as she did what he told her. The lust in his gut twisted and pulsed.

What would it feel like to have this woman following his instructions in bed?

She placed the glass back on its saucer, her fingers trembling but her gaze direct. The white moustache on her top lip made him grin, even as the heat plunged deeper.

‘Good girl,’ he said, then tugged on her wrist to draw her closer. ‘Come here.’

Again, she followed his instructions without question.

But as she leant across the table, that telltale sob issued from her lips. It was like a bullet to his gut, triggering a chain reaction.

And suddenly not one damn thing—certainly not the security team standing guard, not the photographers busy taking intrusive pictures, not even that uneasy feeling in his gut that was screaming at him this felt way too good to be fake—was going to stop him taking what she offered this time...

He slanted his mouth across hers, letting go of her wrist to cradle her cheeks, angle her head for better access, and capture that sob at last.

He licked and sucked and nipped—coaxing, encouraging, exploiting—until she opened for him on a heady breath, and let him in.

Her taste was even more intoxicating than the first time—warm rich chocolate, thick luxurious cream, and heady elemental desire.

He devoured her, exploring the recesses of her mouth. Until he had forgotten about everything but the hot sultry taste of her... And what he planned to feast on next.

Desire and longing barrelled through Isabelle’s body, her mind dazed, her pulse thundering, as Travis Lord’s lips claimed hers in a kiss that went from coaxing to carnal in a heartbeat.

She shivered, only vaguely aware of the table edge digging into her ribs, or his fingers caressing her scalp while he held her head. And took more.

Sensation vibrated from her breasts to the sweet spot between her thighs, and every pulse point in between. Her mind drifted into a sensual fog, dominated by the thrust of his tongue—and the desperate ache in her sex. The yearning to feel him there too, conquering her most intimate place in the same way as he was conquering her mouth, shot through her consciousness—wild, reckless, exciting, and absolutely terrifying.

She wrenched her mouth free, shocked by the direction of her thoughts, and how quickly they had roared out of control.

‘Damn.’ He groaned, then grinned at her—the smile knowing and arrogant.

Panic sprinted up her spine, doing nothing to obliterate the gush of need still making her sex ache.

He dropped his forehead to hers, his breathing as strained as hers, his strong hand massaging the tight muscles in her neck.

Sensation feathered her cheek, the scent of chocolate on his breath so rich and evocative she couldn’t seem to make her mind engage.

‘That should convince them,’ he murmured, his thumb brushing the hammering pulse in her collarbone. She stiffened, the words throwing ice water over her flushed skin.

Of course, this kiss wasn’t real for him, any more than the first one had been. It was all for the benefit of the photographers. She lifted her head, dislodging his hand, and blinked furiously, trying to control the brutal yearning and the cruel twist of humiliation.

His pupils had dilated to black, but other than that he was totally unmoved—as assured as always—while the heat he had incited still raced through her bloodstream, threatening to incinerate what was left of her common sense.

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