Page 3 of Undeniable Temptation

Suddenly, answers weren’t dire. The way the world shrank down to the two of them was apocalyptic. Nobody else existed in that panicked moment. It was only Ryan. Only love smothered in pain and coated in undeniable temptation.

“Do you miss the way we used to be?” He scrutinized her face, from the hair around her ears, to her cheeks, her eyes, and finally her lips. “Do you wish we could return to the way things were?”

“Of course I do.” She swallowed, hard, and shuffled backward. He was crawling under her skin, sinking beneath her ribs, clutching at her heart. “You should already know that.”

He took another step, and another, overshadowing her with his frame, stealing her confidence. The tips of his shoes brushed hers and the universe held its breath until she had the smarts to backtrack a little more.

“Ryan.” His name was a warning. A plea. She was falling. Suffocating. She couldn’t think past his proximity, or the accompanying daydreams. “What are you doing?”

“I can do whatever I want now, remember?” He took another step, forcing her to stumble into the wall. “What if I wanted to kiss you?”

Oh, god, yes.

Oh, hell, no.

She’d fantasized about his kiss for years, had yearned for it, pained for it. But there were infinite reasons why it could never happen. It wasn’t just about his wife. The need for restraint came from Leah’s job, their careers, the possible loss of her best friend even though he’d pretended not to hold the role since the band toured in Australia. If she lost the battle with her heart and slid down the slippery slope of seduction, she’d be in breach of contract. And a tight non-compete clause meant a similar role within the industry was impossible.

“Don’t.” That one, meek, vulnerable word was supposed to slay the threat of his lips and make him retreat. Only she couldn’t summon a stronger complaint. She was speechless at the possibility of receiving her wildest dreams and scared beyond belief at the same time.

Her heart hammered. Her senses became acute. Every inch of her skin tingled with a blanket of goosebumps while her nipples tightened in anticipation. He took the final step, the one that brought them thigh to thigh, hip to hip, and pressed her ass against the wall. The clean cut of his beard was there. Right there. Within her grasp. She wanted to run her hand over it, to cup his cheek and tangle her fingers in his loose hair.

Everything slowed to frozen frames in time, one movement gradually morphing into the next. She had a decade to stop him. A lifetime passed under his advance, and still she did nothing as he encroached, his mouth descending inch by inch until finally those lips were brushing hers in the sweetest glide of dream fulfilment.

The contact was explosive. Her cheeks burned. Her lungs, too. Between her thighs a dull throb formed, spurring her to kiss him back and seize what she’d always wanted. Soft swipes of his mouth transformed into a lick of his tongue, the delicate intrusion parting her lips on a moan. Her hands moved of their own volition, gliding behind his neck, pulling him close, demanding more.

Nothing could break the perfection. Nothing but the taste of scotch on her tongue. The infusion to her palate was a wakeup call that announced he was under the influence of alcohol, while she was merely under the influence of lust.

Fuck. What the hell was she doing?

This was wrong. So horribly, horrifically wrong.

She snatched her hands from around his neck and pushed him away, her chest rising and falling as the intimacy became a mere memory.

He considered her with a frown, his lips kiss darkened, his eyes glassy with intoxication. “Don’t deny you wanted that,” he rasped. “You’ve wordlessly begged for it since we met.”

Air left her lungs in a mass evacuation. He’d hit her right where it hurt, and without thinking she responded with one of her own. A physical one, where her hand slapped across his cheek with enough force to make both of them gasp.

He stiffened at the impact. She was traumatized herself. She’d never raised a hand to anyone before. Never even thought of it… Well, that was a lie. Anyone who knew Mason Lynch would attest to envisaging bodily harm against the egotistical lead singer. But this was different. This was Ryan.

Ryan possessed by liquor.

His cheek turned a dark shade of pink, the evidence of her carelessness seeping under his beard. Seconds passed in the measure of panted breaths. They stood staring at one another. Both of them in shock. Both of them blinking in slow succession.

She’d anticipated that a kiss between them would be devastating. Yet, none of her fantasies were this unforgiving. None of them tore her apart and left her to wither and die under his stare. Her imagination had always included the man who used to bathe her in compliments. Not this person who inflicted suffering on others in the hopes of lessening his own.

“Listen to me,” she whispered. “You crossed a line. A phenomenally inappropriate line. Don’t ever do it again. Do you hear me?”

He winced and for a second she glimpsed the real Ryan. The man who was kind and charming and sweet. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” She slid along the wall, not daring to make physical contact as she fled for the hallway.

“Leah, wait.”

Hell, no.

She headed for the door, her steps clipped, her chin standing at a height that spoke of determination even though she was dying inside. Coming here was a mistake. Cataclysmic.And it wasn’t because of her job, or his, or the impending divorce. Her monumental stupidity came from the incessant beat in her chest and the rolling tumbles of her belly that cemented the knowledge that one kiss had changed her forever.

One kiss had destroyed her.

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