going to think w-we—’
‘Agnes is not paid to think,’ Leo cut in arrogantly and moved off to pour another brandy while Natasha sank weakly back down into the chair.
‘Here, take this…’ Coming to squat down in front of her, he handed her another glass. ‘Only this time try drinking it instead of throwing it at me,’ he suggested. ‘It is supposed to be better for you that way.’
His dry attempt at humour made Natasha flick him a brief guilty glance. ‘I’m sorry I did that. I don’t even know why I did.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Leo’s smile was sardonic. ‘I am used to having my face slapped in car parks and drinks thrown at me. Loathsome guys expect it.’
He added a grimace.
Natasha lowered her eyes to watch his mouth take on that grimacing tilt. It was only as she watched it settle back into a straight line again that she realised it was actually a quite beautifully shaped mouth, slender and firm but—nice.
And his eyes were nice, too, she noticed when, as if drawn by a magnet, she looked back at them. The rich, dark brown colour was framed by the most gorgeous thick, curling black eyelashes that managed to add an unexpected appeal to his face she would never have allowed him before. That pronounced bump in the middle of his nose saved his face from being a bit too perfect. A strong face, she decided, hard hewn and chiselled yet very good-looking—if you didn’t count the inbuilt cynicism that was there without her actually knowing how it was there.
OK, so he was a lot older than her. Older than Rico by eight years, which made him older than her by a very big ten. And those extra years showed in the blunt opinions he had no problem tossing at people—her especially.
But as for his looks, they weren’t old. His skin was a warm honey colour that lay smooth against the bones in his face. No age lines, no smile lines, not even any frown lines, though he did a lot of frowning—around her anyway.
Unaware that she was taking short sips at the brandy as she studied him, Natasha let her eyes track the width of his muscled shoulders trapped inside the smooth fit of his jacket, then let them absorb the fact that his torso was very long and lean and tight. When standing up, he was taller than Rico by several inches and his dark hair was shorter, cut to suit the stronger shape of his face.
She was asking for trouble, Leo thought severely as he watched that lush, pink, generous mouth adopt a musing pout while she looked him over as if he were a prime piece of meat laid out on a butcher’s slab.
‘How old are you, Natasha?’ he asked curiously. ‘Twenty-six—twenty-seven?’
Her spine went stiff. ‘I’m twenty-four!’ she iced out. ‘And that is just one more insult you’ve hit me with!’
‘And you’re counting.’ His eyes narrowed.
‘Yes!’ she heaved out.
With her blue eyes flashing indignation at him she looked pretty damn fantastic, Leo observed as he knelt there, trying to decide what to do next.
He could leap on her and kiss her—strangely enough she seemed to need him to do that. Or he could gently remove the glass she was crushing between her slender fingers, ease her down on her knees in front of him, then encourage her to just get it over with and use his shoulder to have a good weep.
Something twisted inside him—not sexual this time, but an ache of a different kind. Did she know how badly she was trembling? Did she know her slender white throat had to work like crazy each time to swallow some of the brandy and that her hair was threatening to fall free from its knot?
‘I th-think I w-want to go home now,’ she mumbled distractedly.
To the apartment she shared with her sister? ‘Drink the rest of your brandy first,’ Leo advised quietly.
Natasha glanced down at the glass she was holding so tightly between her fingers, then just stared at it as if she was shocked to find it there. As she lifted it to her mouth Leo watched her soft lips take on the warm bloom of brandy and the ache inside him shifted back to a sexual ache.
The doorbell rang.
Rico called her name out.
Natasha’s head shot up, the brandy glass falling from her fingers to land with a thunk on the carpet, sending brandy fumes wafting up.
‘Natasha—’ Leo reached out to her, thinking she was going to keel over into a faint.
But once again Natasha Moyles surprised him. He did not need to pull her to her knees because she arrived there right between his spread thighs with her arms going up and over his shoulders to cling to his neck, those vulnerable blue eyes staring up at him with a helpless mix of pleading and dismay.
‘Don’t let him in,’ she begged tensely.
‘I won’t,’ Leo promised.
‘I h-hate him. I never want to see him again.’
‘I will not let him in,’ he repeated gently.
But Rico called out her name again hoarse with emotion and Leo felt her fingernails dig into the back of his neck while the two of them listened to his housekeeper make some stern response.
‘My heart’s beating so fast I can’t breathe properly,’ Natasha whispered breathlessly.
A spark of challenge lit Leo’s eyes. He should have contained it—he knew that even as he murmured the challenging, ‘I can make it beat faster.’
If he’d said it to distract her attention away from Rico, it certainly worked when her mouth parted on a surprised little gasp. Leo raised a ruefully mocking eyebrow, feeling the buzz, the loin heating, sex-charging, challenging buzz.
And he leant in and claimed her mouth.
It was like falling into an electrified pit, Natasha likened dizzily as not a single part or inch of her missed out on the high-voltage rush. She’d never experienced anything like it. He crushed her lips to keep them parted, then slid his tongue into her mouth. The sheer shock feel of that alien wet contact stroking across her own tongue made her shiver with pleasure, then stiffen in shock. He did it again and this time she whimpered.
Leo murmured something, then slid his arms around her so he could draw her closer to him and deepen the kiss. The next few seconds went by in a fevered hot rush. She felt plastered against his muscled torso. She could hear Rico shouting. Something hard and ridged was pushing against her front. The wildly disturbing recognition of what that something was sent her deaf to everything else as her own senses bloomed with an excited sparkle in response.
It was crazy, she tried telling herself. She didn’t even like Leo Christakis yet here she was drowning in the full on power of his heated kiss! In all of her life she had never kissed anyone like this—never felt even remotely like this! It was like throwing herself against a rock only to discover that the rock had magical powers. His hand skated the length of her spine to her waist, then pressed her even closer, at the same time that he increased the pressure on her mouth, sending her neck arching backwards as he used his tongue to create a warm, thick chain reaction that poured through her entire body like silk.
Natasha heard
