Page 40 of Playing with Seduction

Even now, she could feel the gentle tug between them. So why couldn’t she just say what they were obviously both thinking?

“Wes…” Bree reached out to straighten his tie. “I’m not ready for our night to end.”

“We could grab dessert. Maybe go dancing—”

“No.” She stepped closer, their eyes meeting. Her heart beat faster. “I want you. Here. With me. I know you want that, too.”

“I do.” He sighed heavily. “But we’ve been over all the reasons this is a terrible idea. Nothing’s changed.” He pushed a few strands of hair from her face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Bree. And I don’t want to jeopardize the friendship we’ve been building.”

“Neither do I.” Her eyes met his, her voice soft. “And we won’t.” Stay calm. Sound confident, not desperate. “I don’t expect anything more than tonight. No promises, no obligations. Just…us.”

Bree slipped her arms around his waist, her gaze trained on his as she tried to read him, hoping he’d say yes.

CHAPTER 12

Wes was trying to do what was in Bree’s best interest, but she wasn’t making it easy.

Then again, neither had he. Dinner overlooking the sunset? What the hell was he thinking?

This trip was supposed to be about getting better acquainted with the State of North Carolina. Instead, they’d been reminded of all of the reasons they’d gotten on so well together that night in London. The reasons they seemed perfect together.

“I want you, Bree. You know that, but—”

“You’re not looking for anything serious.” Her tone was sexy, teasing. She leaned in closer. Her soft, sweet scent teased his nostrils. The heat radiating from her body raised his temperature. “Neither am I.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. A lie he wanted desperately to believe.

Wes gripped her shoulders, drowning in her soft gaze. Thoughts of Bree occupied every available space in his brain. Distracted him from what he should be focused on right now—the tournament.

And yet…he wanted this. He wanted her.

The thud of Wes’s heartbeat grew louder, his desire for Bree building. He leaned down and slipped his fingers into her hair as his mouth met hers.

A soft sigh escaped her mouth as she pressed her hands to his back and pulled him closer, melding the warmth of her body to his. He pinned her against the door as he captured her mouth in an intense kiss that made him ache for her.

His tongue delved inside her warm mouth. She welcomed it. Glided her own tongue along his as she gripped his shirt.

The voice in his head that was screaming at him not to do this was drowned out by the thud of his heart, his raging pulse and his feverish desire for her.

The elevator dinged, interrupting them as it had the night before. Wes pulled himself away, his eyes studying hers. This time, he couldn’t walk away. He extended his palm, his eyes not leaving hers.

Bree dug out her key card and placed it in his palm. There was a hardened edge to her expression, belied by the slight trembling of her hands and her shallow breathing. Wes ushered them inside her room and wrapped one arm around Bree’s waist, tugging her body against his.

He trailed kisses down her neck, inhaling her enticing scent. He pressed a soft kiss to her earlobe, then whispered in her ear, “Mixing business and pleasure is always a risky move.”

Bree slid one hand up his chest. Her eyes blazed with passion, desire and a bit of defiance. She had no intention of backing down. At this point, neither did he. “Don’t worry. I’m worth it.”

The edge of his mouth curled. It wasn’t the response he’d expected, but it was a sentiment he shared.

She captured his mouth in a greedy kiss that allayed any doubts about whether this was what she truly wanted. About whether she could accept his terms for engagement.

Good. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Wes lowered his hands to the swell of her curvy bottom, swallowing her soft murmur in response. His body ached with his need for her. A need that’d been simmering since the night they met in London. But now it was at a full-blown boil.

Bree was responsive to his touch as his hands glided along her body—a perfect blend of feminine curves and athletic muscle. Her desire was a living, breathing, palpable thing that demanded satisfaction. He wanted nothing more than to give it to her.

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