Page 28 of Lela's Choice

“How very rational of you.” His effect on Lela wasn’t rational; it was ... disturbing.

“You don’t like lawyers.” He paused at the top of the Grand Excelsior’s eighty-nine steps. “How very irrational of you.”

“That’s not what I said.” She came to a halt. How had they moved from mutual attraction to her opinion of lawyers? “I know quite a few lawyers.”

He remained silent.

“I appreciate that you ...” Lela corrected herself, "that lawyers generally have to develop a thick skin, a studied neutrality to show you have an open mind, so you can take on any case that’s presented to you.” If she’d blundered, she might as well finish. “I find it comes across as fake, a superficial veneer of interest, of pleasantness that’s required in your professional life and unfortunately seeps into personal encounters.”

“Don’t worry about my feelings.”

“We just finished agreeing I tell you things I shouldn’t.”

He took a step closer, while she took a step back into the shadows of the entrance gates, and found the stone pillar cool against her back.

“Tell me, Miranda”—his nickname for her emerged on a soft growl, sending tingles down her spine—“whether you think I have a slick, superficial persona that’s seeped into my personal encounters?”

“Hamish? MacGregor? Shouldn’t we start down the steps?”

“I like it here. In the night-dappled light.” He rested his hands at her waist, held them there while his eyes asked a wordless question. She raised her hands to his forearms. Satisfied with her answer, he simply gathered her in. As if she were a precious object he wanted to hold. “Malta has rules. It’s mandatory to kiss by moonlight,” he murmured, before dropping his head to find her mouth. His kiss—a gentle exploration laid siege to her soul.

She blamed the moonlight. She wrapped her arms around him, needing the solid feel of him when her body went into freefall. Heat pumped through her, scattering reason, so that in deepening the kiss he also soothed her, arousing and easing her rising need.

Defying logic.

I don’t want logic.

Her body trembled with pleasure. She craved the taste of him, man mixed with the sweetness of their after-dinner liqueur and pungent black coffee. Her senses filled with him, and she found flavour, more than taste. The heady concoction scrambled her brains, releasing inhibitions she’d relied on as unbreachable protection.

“I always follow the rules,” she murmured.

“No, you don’t.” Gently, he traced the line of her jaw, his touch intimate, springing a lock on her closely guarded heart. With her resistance melting away, she reached for him again, drawing him closer, until she was sandwiched between him and the pillar. Want, surrounded by need, while her blood bubbled and sparks shot through her. She surrendered to the thrill of the unknown.

When he released her mouth, she moaned her loss, rising on her toes to recapture his, sliding her tongue over his lips—to tease, to tempt his plunder. His mouth opened, and he took them both under. Admiration and liking hadn’t prepared Lela for this moment when every tendon in her body strained towards him.

“More please.” Lela welcomed his hands sliding over her shoulders, one binding her to him, while the other traced her breast, stroking, arousing. Floating, while simultaneously grounded in the moment, feather-light wonder and grinding need.

Yearning to touch skin she knew would be warm, she slid her hands under his shirt, gasping at the first touch of smooth, hard flesh. Her fingers trailed across his taut midriff. His indrawn breath satisfied a primitive need in her to arouse in return.

Why didn’t my girlfriends tell me desire is so empowering?

Dazed—dazzled—she sank limply against him, relying on his strength to keep her upright, them both upright. Her limbs were heavy, at once languid and wanton.

“I want more too.” A husky plea against her ear, the bulge of his cock nestled between them.

Stunned, Lela drew back, her breathing shallow. His hands steadied her, and his gaze held hers for long moments. Neither of them moved, as if movement would snap the control he was exercising, the control she was seeking.

He took her hand to descend the final flights of stairs. “I think we can agree the attraction’s mutual,” he said softly.

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LELA WELCOMED THE SHAFTSof light slipping through the slit of not-quite-closed curtains. The dawn heralded a new day, permission to slide out of bed and do something other than chase her thoughts as she had for the last few hours. Thoughts, dreams or fantasies, they sent licks of delight through her, energising her.

Confusing me.

A smile curved her lips when she caught sight of herself in the large mirror opposite the bed. Raising a hand to her mouth, she traced a finger over her lips, as Hamish had. The surge of heat through her mimicked the arousal he’d enticed from her.A woman desired. She did a little dance on the spot.

In his arms she’d stopped thinking, a weakness she rarely allowed herself. Sophie’s well-being had been her focus for more years than she could remember.

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