She could feel his burgeoning erection between them, and another unwanted thrill raced through her.
She glared at him for turning what should have been a simple dance, an uncomplicated dare, into something far more tempting. “You don’t play fair,” she said, conveniently dismissing the fact that she was just as much at fault for provoking him.
He had no qualms about reminding her. “Oh, and you do?” he asked wryly.
Her chin lifted mutinously as her heart rate finally calmed. “You started all this, not me. I would have been satisfied kicking your butt in a game of darts.”
Fleeting humor etched his expression, and he gradually eased them back into dancing to the song the band was currently playing, this time, in a more platonic manner. “At least we finally proved one important thing.”
Curious, she took his bait. “And what’s that?”
“How compatible we are.” His tone was husky and soft, his gaze serious. “And that you want me as much as I want you.”
She rolled her eyes at that, grasping for levity and a believable fib. “We’re hardly compatible.” She found it more difficult to deny his second claim, so she didn’t even try for fear of him disputing her in sexy, tantalizing ways she wouldn’t be able to fight. “We’re complete opposites, Mitchell, and if it wasn’t for the sake of this charity contest, we wouldn’t be together right now.”
“Mitch,” he said unexpectedly, his voice vibrating with a tinge of frustration. His gaze turned equally intense. “For once, call me Mitch.”
The sudden change in him startled her, but also made her more determined not to give into his demand. “Mitchell suits you much better.” She fingered the collar of his red knit shirt. “Responsible, respectable and much too strait-laced for me.”
Her blithe comment was meant to point out their vast differences and establish much-needed distance between them, but only served to spark a fierce, steely determination in the depth of his eyes.
Without preamble, he grabbed her hand firmly in his and pulled her through the crowd still enjoying the reception. He nearly dragged her down the dark, secluded path toward the beach, his long-legged strides easily eating up the distance while she had to use quick double-steps to keep up with him in her heeled shoes. Her head was spinning when he finally stopped where the walkway ended at one of the small shacks used during the day for guests to borrow beach towels.
Abruptly, he turned around to face her. Silver moonlight cast shadows over his lean, handsome features and made his eyes glitter with purpose. He was unadulterated male magnetism, raw and untamed, and a trifle dangerous. But it wasn’t him she feared; rather it was her own electrifying response to all that strong-willed aggression.
Excitement and apprehension mingled. She’d met her match. She shivered at the thought, aware that they were very much alone. She could hear the faint, faraway voices of the people at the mixer and the crash of the waves on the shore behind her—or was that the frantic pounding of her heart against her chest that was echoing in her ears?
He stepped toward her, and she took a hasty step back—and found herself pressed up against the locked door of the shack. He moved closer and, before she could side-step him, he flattened his hands on either side of her shoulders, trapping her between hard, rough wood and his unyielding length. He didn’t touch her physically, not yet anyway. But she could feel the simmering heat of his body and see the predatory light in his stare. While everything within her urged her to duck beneath his arm and bolt, she stood her ground.
She’d never been afraid of confrontation or conflict—she’d experienced plenty of both through her childhood and her one-sided relationship with Jonathan. She refused to retreat now, no matter how much this man continually evoked varying degrees of emotions from her. At the moment, wicked desire was most prominent.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, and wished her voice sounded more convincing, instead of so breathless.
He bent his head and skimmed his mouth along her cheek to the delicate shell of her ear, a riveting touch all the more erotic for what it promised. “I’m about to prove I can be just as reckless and daring as you,” he said, his voice a ragged kind of velvet as dark as the night around them.
Her pulse quickened as she watched his full, sensual lips descend toward hers to make good on his word. She prepared herself for a wild, outrageous kiss—the kind of frenzied joining that would reflect their tempestuous relationship so far. Her posture stiffened, ready to divert his domination with some kind of defiant response.
She couldn’t have been more wrong in her assumption.
With lazy deliberation, he brushed his mouth along hers, throwing her off-kilter with his featherlight, velvety strokes designed to soften her demeanor. Warm, delicate kisses to coax an ultimate surrender. And despite knowing she ought to do something to stop his slow seduction, her lashes fluttered closed and she rewarded his sensuous efforts with a sultry moan that was pure pleasure, without a trace of any protest.
Mitch knew the moment that Nicole was his for the taking, and experienced a surge of supreme satisfaction. This woman, for all her impudence and stubbornness and sass, couldn’t refute the undeniable craving between them. Her warm, fragrant breath fanned his lips, intoxicating him with the ambrosial scent of sweet apricots and chocolate, a rare delicacy he had every intention of sampling deeper. Very, very soon.
Threading his fingers through the thick, silky strands of her hair, he smoothed his thumbs beneath her jaw to keep her face tipped up and her mouth poised right below his. Holding her slumberous gaze, he closed the distance between their bodies, gradually easing his hard length against her ultrasoft curves until he’d imprinted her from breast to thighs with scorching heat and pulsing awareness.
This time, it was him that groaned, at the rightness of this woman in his embrace, and the primitive need that gripped and consumed him. Done tormenting them both, he settled his mouth over hers. His tongue flicked out to taste and tease and gather the exotic flavor that was uniquely hers, and her lips parted on a breathy sigh, giving him the invitation he sought.
Tipping her head just slightly, he slanted his mouth across hers. His tongue delved deep inside in a slow, thorough invasion that was as sensual as it was possessive. He kissed her languidly, and with consummate, insatiable patience, until she grew pliant and just as needy as he.
He swallowed the raw whimper that rumbled in her throat, but there was nothing he could do to stop the restless way she moved against him. Not that he wanted her to stop, but she was making him harder and more aroused than he could ever remember being. She raised her hands, sliding them between their bodies—not to push him away, but to press her palms to the flat planes of his belly, explore along his waist, and caress the slope of his back. Her open and honest touch kindled a fever in his blood, caused his heart to beat a heavy cadence, and spurred him to higher levels of desire.
Their kiss turned hungry, rapacious—deep and wet and every bit as sexual as the currents arcing between them. Loosening the fingers of one hand tangled in her hair, he glided his palm down the smooth column of her throat and swept his thumb over the rapid pulse at the base. She shuddered and parried her tongue with his, leaving him aching with anticipation and overwhelmed with need.
Wanting to experience more of her, as much as she’d allow, he continued his downward journey and cupped the lush softness of her breast in his hand. She groaned and arched and offered more. He felt her nipple tighten and bead against his palm, and guessed that she was wearing a very flimsy bra—one of those
