Page 60 of One Time in Paris
Springing into action, Aiden peeled off his shirt and covered the hair dryer with it, then took a step toward the wall and yanked the cord from the outlet.
“What the hell was that?” Isla asked with wide eyes.
Aiden put his hand on the small of her back, concern in his face. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, I think.” She touched her cheek, her skin still stinging from the spark.
Aiden leaned closer and examined it, then touched a section of her hair. “Looks like you managed to escape without burning your hair. This skin here is a bit red.”
As he lowered it, she caught sight of the redness of his own fingers and reached for his hand. “Aiden, you burned your fingers.”
“It’s nothing.” His fingers intertwined with hers. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She wet her lips, stepping closer to him. “Aiden...”
God.
Why did they keep ending up like this? The attraction was tangible, even if they both had tried to resist it. It felt as though whatever had drawn them together that night in Vegas had been real, even if they hadn’t been in the right headspace.
Maybe she’d refused to let herself see him this way before, but now that they’d opened that door, there was no going back. He was handsome. Sexy.
And they clearly had chemistry.
She reached for him, and his arm encircled her waist, drawing her closer to his bare, muscular chest. As she stood on her tiptoes, his mouth crashed down on hers, their kiss hot, raw, and filled with desire.
Isla slid her arms around his neck, letting her weight sink against his as she kissed him back, a soft moan of pleasure leaving her.
His tongue slid against the seam of her lips, and she parted them for him. As one of his hands tangled into the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her close as his tongue clashed against hers, robbing her of breath.
And sanity.
God, this is incredible.
And incredibly stupid.
Yet she didn’t want to pull away. Didn’t want to stop. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms, pressing against him, feeling him harden like this.
Then Aiden’s hands slid to her waist, and he lifted her, setting her on the vanity and stepping between her knees.
Fuck, yes.
They were really doing this, weren’t they?
A deafening, shrill alarm pierced the quiet of the room.
Isla and Aiden yanked themselves free from one another, glancing around for the source of the noise. The smoke alarm, a few feet over.
“Oh shit,” Isla breathed, hopping down from the vanity. Her lips still throbbed, wet from their kiss. She drew a deep breath, then started to climb the dresser to reach the smoke detector.
Aiden was steps behind her and caught her by the waist, lowering her to the floor. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to turn it off.”
“Not sure we can do that in a hotel, darling.”
A knock sounded on the door, and they exchanged a look. Aiden grabbed his suit jacket from the nearby chair and held it out to her. “Here, put this on.”
Isla shrugged into it, catching the subtle scent of his masculine cologne clinging to the collar, then she crossed to the door and opened it.
