Page 13 of Bound by a One-Night Vow

He took control of the kiss with a bold stroke of his tongue across her lips, entering her mouth and calling her tongue into a sexy tango that made every knob of her vertebrae tingle like fairy dust was being trickled down her spine. She pressed herself closer, linking her arms around his neck, her fingers delving into the thickness of his hair. She stretched up on tiptoe so she could feel every delicious hard ridge of him against her body, the friction revving up her desire like bellows in front of a fire. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and she was suddenly aware of their sensitivity, as if they were already anticipating the stroke of his hands, the glide of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth.

She whimpered against his mouth, wanting more, needing more, aching for more. His mouth was still crushed to hers, his tongue playing with hers in a kiss that mimicked the erotic caress of his thigh against her. Sensations sparked and fizzed like fireworks in her body. Sensations she had not felt with a partner before. She could do this alone but never with a partner. She’d always had to fake it rather than admit her failure.

But Andrea had unlocked her sensuality in a way no other man had. The tension in her core grew and grew, the sensitive nerves tight and tingling. Her legs, her thighs, deep in her body the tingles ran up and down and around and around until she was unable to process thought. He increased the friction of his thigh as if he was reading every nuance of her body. She couldn’t possibly be feeling like this...how could it happen so easily? How could he have so much sensual power over her to reduce her to a quivering, whimpering wanton? She gasped as the wave rose and rose inside her, the little ripples growing, swelling, burgeoning until they broke over her in a massive rush, shattering her senses into thousands of pieces like confetti fluttering through her blood.

Izzy opened her eyes and then closed them, squeezing them tight against the smug expression on Andrea’s face. Oh, God, why had she allowed him to reduce her to this? To a reckless, shameless wanton who hadn’t enough self-control to withstand the temptation of his touch. Why hadn’t she resisted him? Where was her willpower? Damn it. Where was her pride? Why had she allowed him to prove his point with such embarrassing, devastating accuracy?

He wasn’t the one who couldn’t control himself.

She was. And he had proven it.

Izzy hadn’t thought it possible to hate someone so much for bringing her such amazing pleasure. If this was what his hard thigh could do to her, what on earth would making love with him be like?

Andrea lifted her chin, his eyes gleaming with triumph. ‘What did I tell you? Dynamite.’

Izzy summoned what was left of her pride. She pushed him away and schooled her features into a mask of cool indifference. ‘How do you know I wasn’t faking it?’

He studied her for a beat or two. ‘You don’t have to feel ashamed of how you respond to me. It will make our marriage much more satisfying.’ He pressed the button to get the elevator going again. ‘For both of us.’

The doors opened on his floor and he ushered her out of the elevator with a hand at her elbow. Izzy knew she should move away from the warm, gentle cup of his hand but somehow couldn’t bring herself to do it. He opened his penthouse suite with his key card and turned to her. ‘Shall I carry you over the threshold?’

Izzy shot him a glare so lethal it could have blacked out the lights. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

CHAPTER FIVE

IZZY STEPPED INTO the suite, the sound of the door clicking shut as Andrea came in behind her making her heart give a little stumble and her legs tremble.

She was his wife.

He was her husband.

They were alone.

Inside his hotel suite.

Her body was still tingling from the shocking intimacy he had subjected her to. Intimacy she should have put a stop to but somehow hadn’t. Why not? Why had she allowed him to prove how much more she needed him than he needed her? The power balance was all out of kilter.

Izzy drew in a shaky breath and glanced around the suite. The décor of the suite was stunning but not in an over-the-top way. The crystal chandeliers, ankle-deep dove-grey carpet and grey-blue velvet-covered sofas with stylish scatter cushions gave the room a welcoming, restful feel. Lamps were turned down low to give a muted glow that highlighted the private, sanctuary-like atmosphere of the suite. It was a masculine suite and yet it had softer touches such as vases of fresh flowers and cashmere throw rugs draped elegantly on each of the sofas. The curtains were the same blue-grey as the sofas and were drawn back from the windows to showcase the view.

Izzy moved through the suite, stopping to look at the artwork on the walls—originals, not prints, of course. There was a dining area off the main sitting room and the master bedroom and en suite bathroom through another door. She peered inside the master bedroom, her eyes going straight to her overnight bag positioned on the velvet-covered luggage rest. No doubt it had been delivered while she and Andrea were in the elevator. She closed the door and turned and looked at him. ‘Where’s the other bedroom?’

‘There isn’t one.’ He shrugged off his jacket and laid it across the back of one of the sofas. ‘You’ll be sharing mine.’

Izzy’s stomach dropped so far it bounced and knocked her heart into her throat. ‘What? What sort of penthouse is this if it only has one bedroom?’

His expression was inscrutable. ‘Is that going to be a problem for you?’

‘Of course it’s a problem.’ She stalked as far away from him as she could get, sending him a glare so blistering she was surprised the paint didn’t peel off the walls. ‘I told you I’m not sleeping with you. I want my own room.’ She folded her arms and planted her feet. ‘I want my own suite.’

Andrea casually loosened his tie, his gaze still meshed with hers. ‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’

‘But you own the flipping hotel!’ Izzy’s voice was so shrill she thought it might shatter the chandeliers. She knew her outraged virgin reaction could be considered a little inconsistent given her reputation, but she couldn’t possibly share a bedroom with him. Sharing a bedroom meant sharing a bed. She’d shared an elevator with him and look how that turned out.

Andrea’s tie landed alongside his jacket and he reached up to undo a couple of the buttons of his shirt. His calm demeanour and his slow and methodical movements as he released the buttons were in stark contrast to how she was feeling, which made her even more furious with him. ‘Precisely,’ he said, his eyes so dark her insides gave a little flutter. ‘Which is why you’re sharing this suite with me. I will not have my domestic staff think this is not a genuine marriage.’

Izzy began pacing the floor in case she was tempted to undo the rest of those buttons for him. She forced her gaze away from his tanned and toned chest with its dusting of crisp masculine hair. She had to get a hold on herself. She was meant to be standing up to him, resisting him, not gawking at him like some kind of sex-starved spinster.

He was enjoying every second of her panic. He was so cool. So enviably, damnably cool. He reminded her of a cat who had cleverly cornered a mouse. He was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment when one of his velvet-covered paws would strike his hapless prey.

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