Page 7 of Seven Night Stopover

She desperately sifted through her vocabulary to find the words.

Hungry.

Predatory.

Carnal pleasure beyond reason.

He wanted it all from her.

And Leia was pretty damned sure she wanted to give them all to him.

Right here, right now.

3

Noah wasn’t sure which part of the woman standing across the bar captivated him the most.

All he knew was that he was staring, a stunned shudder charging through his body at the combination of assets. Jesus, whoever had put her together had done one helluva job. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but her face was captivating enough, with a touch of rebellion that intrigued him, to put her in a sphere of her own.

Dark reddish-blonde hair had been pulled over to one side of her face in a careless tumbling heap that reached the middle of her back. From this distance, he couldn’t see the exact color of her eyes, but her makeup gave them a smoky and hypnotic allure. Long lashes quivered with the need to blink. She denied that need and maintained bold eye contact.

There was something daring yet innocent in the way she stared at him that made his cock stiffen. Or, hell, it may have been because she had one of the most sinful mouths he’d ever seen. Plump, wide, and paintedsuck-mered, it was so damned potently sexy, he forgot his own name for several seconds.

He’d spotted her the moment she’d walked in behind the blond guy who looked like he wanted to devour her whole.

With her attention caught by the spectacular ceiling display of the Ozone Bar, Noah had taken a moment to study her, his drink frozen halfway to his mouth.

Her side crop, shaved in a swathe that exposed the delicate shell of her left ear, had surprised him. There was something bold and declaratory about it, but also sexy, in a way that made Noah, who had never given much thought to such things, stop to appreciate the sexiness of it.

He’d watch her stumble. Watch the valet catch her and crack a joke. Her smile had made liquid go down the wrong way. Noah had barely stopped himself from coughing up his lungs and wheezing like a frickin’ hormonal teenager.

He stared some more, a part of him silently terrified that if he blinked, she would disappear.

To think he’d almost given up finding someone to take the edge off his hunger. He’d intended to finish his whiskey and return to his suite. Alone. Because of the six single female guests he’d met in the bar so far, none even came close to tweaking his interest. The thought of settling on a willing female just to get himself off had made bile rise in his gut.

But now…

Jesus, when was the last time he’d felt this excited justlookingat a woman?

A woman who returned his stare without turning away, as mesmerized with him as he was with her. A look that portrayed nothing but naked interest.

He discarded the glass and approached her.

She raised her glass of champagne a fraction, as if to take a sip. Or it may have been a tiny toast to what was happening between them. It paused just below her lips, drawing his attention again to the fullness of her glossy mouth. The cornerstilted upward in a saucy curve that just begged to be tasted, and his breath fractured as he imagined doing just that and a whole lot more.

Need pounded through him as he rounded the bar. Vaguely, he saw her valet’s gaze swing toward him and back to her.

A dark emotion fizzed through his veins at the thought of the other man laying any sort of claim on her. “Excuse us,” he said, without taking his eyes from hers.

The blond guy cleared his throat. “Umm, sure. Have a good evening, Miss Michaels.”

Irrationally, the thought that this guy knew her name and Noah didn’t irritated the hell out of him. Noah compelled her not to look at the other guy. Not to look at anyone but him.

Her lips parted, but no words emerged. His irritation abated a little when the valet took the hint and walked away. Her scent drifted in to Noah, a mixture of crushed lilies and designer perfume. He breathed in deep and felt his pulse thunder.

He closed the gap between them until he could see the color of her eyes.

Grey, with a touch of blue. So wide. So alluring. He’d always thought that only soppy morons confessed to wanting to get lost in a woman’s eyes.

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