Трейси Вульф – Pursued (страница 2)
What was wrong with her?
Besides the fact that her libido had obviously overpowered her brain? she asked herself viciously. But as she stood there, watching him watch her, she figured she’d better find a way to get her brain functioning again. Because the man obviously wasn’t going anywhere until he got a response…even if she had no idea how she was supposed to respond to his observation that she was thirsty…
Eventually, though, her brain, and her sense of humor, kicked in. Thank God. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.” It wasn’t the wittiest comeback, but it would do.
“Were you?” His mouth curved in a crooked grin that did something strange to her stomach. “Well, you wouldn’t be wrong.” Then he lifted his own glass of champagne to his lips and took a deep drink. She watched, mesmerized, for long seconds before she managed to shake herself out of it. Jeez! How far gone was she that even watching him swallow was turning her on? Maybe she should just walk away now and cut her losses while she still could.
Even as the thought came to her, she knew she wouldn’t do it. Partly because she wasn’t sure her knees would hold her if she tried to walk away and partly…partly because in that moment there was nowhere she’d rather be than right there, smiling up at this charming, beautiful man—and having him smile back at her.
“I’m Nic, by the way,” he said, after he’d watched her take a slow, steadying drink from her own glass.
“I’m Desi.” She held out her hand. He took it, but instead of shaking her hand as she’d expected, he just held it as he gently stroked his thumb across her palm.
The touch was so soft, so intimate, so not what she’d been expecting, that for long seconds she didn’t know what to do. What to say. A tiny voice inside her whispered for her to let go, to step back, to walk away from the attraction that was holding them in thrall. But it was drowned out by the heat, the attraction, the
“Would you like to dance, Desi?” he asked, taking the glass from her other hand and depositing it on a passing tray.
She should say no. She had a million things to do here tonight and none of those things involved getting swept onto the dance floor by some hot, rich guy who had probably forgotten more about seduction than she’d ever known. But even as the thought occurred to her, even knowing that she might very well get burned before the night was over, she nodded. Then she let him lead her gently toward the center of the room. Playing with fire was a cliché for a reason.
The band was playing a slow song—of course it was—and he pulled her into his arms, started to move her across the crowded floor. He held her closer than was necessary or expected for a first dance between strangers. One hand on her lower back, his fingers curving over the soft swell of her hip. His other hand continuing to hold, continuing to stroke, her own. His hard, strong chest brushing against her own with each step they took. His thighs doing the same.
Deep inside, Desi felt herself melting. Felt herself falling a little more under his spell. She knew it was stupid, ridiculous,
She wasn’t that girl, had never been—and never wanted to be—
The gleam in Nic’s eyes as he looked down at her was as obvious as his rock-hard pelvis pressing against her own. Instead of offending her, it aroused her. Instead of making her scurry for cover, it made her clamor for more.
One night never hurt anyone, after all. And neither did one kiss. Or at least that was her story for this evening and she was sticking to it.
Which was why, after taking a deep breath, she tightened her hand where it rested against the back of his neck and pulled him forward. Pulled him down, down, down, until their bodies were meshed together and his lips met hers.
She was delicious. It was the only thing Nic Durand could think as his lips met those of the beautiful blonde in his arms. Desi, she’d said her name was, he remembered as he fought to keep from getting completely lost in the feel of her soft hands on his neck and her lush body pressed so tightly against his own.
It was a lot harder not to get lost than it should have been. A lot harder than it had ever been. He’d met—and charmed—a lot of women in his life, but never had he been so affected by one. Never had he come so close to forgetting who and where he was when he was with one—even one as gorgeous, and amusing, as Desi. But here he was, attending his first charity gala since he and his brother had moved the headquarters of their diamond company to San Diego earlier that year, and all he could think about was getting his hands and mouth all over a woman he’d just met.
As second in command of Bijoux, he was in charge of marketing, advertising and public relations. It was his job to come to these ridiculous galas, his job to schmooze and donate pieces to the silent auction in an effort to continue building the philanthropic reputation of the business he and his brother, Marc, had poured their hearts and souls into ever since they’d taken over more than a decade before. The fact that he’d rather just give all that money straight to charity meant nothing. After all, experience had proved that buying seats at boring, trumped-up galas like this one always earned his company good PR. And good PR was the name of the game, especially when you were one of the new kids. And not just any new kid, but one determined to shake up the old system and make things happen. It was the best way to gain access. He’d come here tonight with an agenda—people to meet, business to do—but all it had taken was one look at Desi, one conversation with her, one feel of her pressed against him while dancing, to make all of that fly out the window.
And he didn’t give a damn.
It was odd. Crazy, even. But he wasn’t going to fight it, he decided as he slid his hand down her spine to rest against her lower back. Not when a simple kiss with her was hotter and more exciting than anything he’d done with any other woman.
With that thought in mind, he put a little pressure on her back, pressed her forward…and more tightly against him. She moaned a little at the contact, her mouth opening with the sound, and he took instant advantage by licking his way across the little dip in her upper lip, then across the soft fullness of her lower one. She gasped a little, her hands sliding up to clutch at his tuxedo shirt. It was all the invitation he needed.
Delving inside her then, he swept his tongue along her own. Once, twice, then again and again. Teasing, touching,
Despite her sharp cool looks—all platinum-blond hair and ice-blue eyes, striking cheekbones and long, slender body—Desi was heat and spice. Cinnamon and cloves, overlaid by just a hint of the crisp, sweet champagne they had shared. The warmth of her seduced him, drew him in—drew him under—until all he could think of, all he could want, was her.
Sliding his other hand into her hair, he tangled his fingers in the silky strands and tugged gently. Her head tilted back in response, giving him better access to her mouth. And he took it without a thought to anything but how much he wanted her.
Sucking her lower lip between his teeth, he bit down gently, then soothed the small hurt with his tongue before once again licking inside her mouth. This time, he slid his tongue along her upper lip, toyed gently with the sensitive skin then delved deep into the recesses of her mouth.
Desi moaned, burrowing even closer as he licked his way across the roof of her mouth before tangling his tongue with hers. She tasted so good, felt so good, that he wanted nothing more than to stay right there forever.
But at that moment someone jostled him. The jolt broke the spell and he came back to himself slowly, became aware of their surroundings and the fact that he was about two seconds from undressing her in the middle of one of the most important social events of the Southern California season. He should be embarrassed, or at least shocked that he’d let things get so far out of hand. But he didn’t care about that, didn’t care about any of the people milling around them or what they must be thinking.