Page 60 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

Curiosity shifted inside her. She bit back a desire to ask himwhathe was feeling. She wasn’t sure she’d know how to handle the answer.

“Would you get off me?” She asked, becoming alarmed by how turned on she was.

“Not until we come to the bottom of this.” His voice was deep and gruff, his accent mysterious. Greek, she gathered, from the string of curses she’d first heard. “How can you prove to me that you’re related to Benji?”

“A stand off?” She asked, pulling at her wrists and almost exploding with sensual heat when his grip only tightened. She had no idea she was so turned on by being dominated.

“Or a lie down,” he responded quickly, so her stomach twisted hard. She ground her teeth and tried to move, only so she could feel his body tightening against hers, grinding her into the ground. Eyes challenging his, she moved, just her pelvis, from side to side, as if issuing a silent, unmistakable challenge. His breath hissed from between his teeth, and she knew he felt every iota of attraction she did.

“Benji’s afraid of clowns.” The words were weakened by her awareness of him. “His mother organized one for his tenth birthday. It jumped—,”

“Out of the kitchen and he freaked out.”

“Actually, he almost wet his pants,” she finished with a small half-smile. “He’s always hated them. I don’t know what Aunty Alison was thinking.”

He was still, and then, as if recognizing that she was telling the truth, he jack-knifed off her abruptly, leaving her instantly cold and bereft, craving the contact of his body all over again.

The thought, her weakness, was enough to have her pushing to sit, and then moving to stand. Only she pressed her weight into her damaged ankle and cried out sharply as fresh pain radiated through the small space.

“Damn it!” Tears filled her eyes.

“You’re hurt.”

“Not by you,” she responded, staring down at her ankle with a sense of betrayal. “Though that’s better luck than management.”

“Hey, you’re the one who was armed with—what the hell was that, anyway?”

She was glad the lights were out and that he wouldn’t see her full sheepish expression. “The first thing I could find.”

“Which was?” He asked, lifting his fingers to the side of his head and rubbing, his silhouette powerful in the dark, so she longed to see more of him, to see all of him.

“A rolling pin.”

She put all her weight on one leg and hopped to the door, flicking on the light switch then spinning around. It was a mistake.

In the dark, she’d been intimately aware of his strength, power and muscular frame, but she’d been able to imagine that perhaps he had two noses or four chins, instead of the man who stood across the laundry from her, hands on hips, looking completely regal and devastatingly handsome. If there was a more perfect specimen of masculinity, she’d yet to see it. There was no single feature that stood out, rather, each of them was noteworthy, from piercing dark eyes to long, curling lashes, a straight, patrician nose, high cheekbones, a square jaw, wide mouth, a confident brow and thick, lush hair that made her fingertips tingle with an ache to reach out and feel it.

She pressed her back against the wall—a mistake, for it reminded her of how connected their bodies had been.

“Ah. That would be this.” He reached down and scooped up the offending object, his shirt separating from the waistband of his pants to reveal an inch of tanned skin so her temperature spiked.

“I was baking,” she muttered.

“At one in the morning?”

“Better than skulking about outside someone’s house,” she responded. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as it would have been if you stood a foot taller.”

She ground her teeth together. She’d never been sensitive about her height. In her line of work, a diminutive stature was an advantage, but she didn’t appreciate him pointing it out.

“I wasn’t expecting to be woken by an intruder in the middle of the night. If I’d had a little more notice, I could have worked out a better attack plan.”

“Then I’m grateful you had no notice.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

He turned away, reaching for her crutches, but not before she saw the tightening of his features and recognizing, instinctively, that she’d landed on something sensitive, something he was hesitant to discuss.

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