His fingers loosened and she pulled her hand free. Her heart was beating so fast she felt dizzy. Maybe it wasn’t tonsillitis that he had. Maybe it was the flu and she’d caught it just like that. She felt as hot as he looked.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror hanging on the wall as she hurried to the door. Yes, the colour in her cheeks was definitely more than the usual. And her eyes looked huge.
The nurse was at least fifty and looked like a total grandma with her specs and cardigan and knitting needles poking out of her bag. She talked like a grandma too—incessant, interested and caring but with an underlying thread of steel.
Sophy smothered her smile as the woman began her no nonsense fussing over Lorenzo. Definitely time to make a move. She needed some space to examine that moment again too.
‘I’ll phone later,’ she said to the nurse.
‘Aren’t you going to talk to me?’ A growl from the sofa.
‘You’re going to be asleep.’ Sophy went even warmer inside when she saw the put out look flash on his face.
But then he started shivering again and the nurse turned to him. ‘We need to get you into bed, don’t we? I’ll go and put some nice fresh sheets on it. No, don’t worry, I can find them. You just lie back and relax. Medicine, some painkillers, something nice and warm to drink. We’ll have you better in no time.’
Sophy watched the woman bustle off, finding her way around the place by some kind of special nursing sixth sense. She looked back at Lorenzo; he was looking at the nurse with such loathing that Sophy had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing. At her movement his head whipped round and he glared at her. Oh, boy, definitely time to go.
‘Sophy.’
Halfway across the room she hesitated.
‘Come here.’
Sick as he was, it was a command. And Sophy felt a scarily overwhelming urge to do as he bid. How pathetic—it wasn’t as if he could do much if she refused.
‘Come here.’ Softly spoken again, but it wasn’t just a thread of steel in there—it was a whole core. And his magnetism wasn’t something she could ignore.
She walked over to him. Even though he was the one lying down, even though she was the one who could leave, somehow the balance of power had changed. In those few minutes when she’d been crouched next to him, stroking him, something had changed completely.
She stopped a little distance away, met the deep, dark gaze a little nervously.
‘I want to thank you,’ he said quietly.
‘It’s not necessary.’ She felt the blush rising in her cheeks. Sorting out others was her speciality. She had a family of geniuses who could barely organise what they wanted to make for dinner every night. This was nothing.
He was still looking at her so intensely she wondered what it was he was trying to read. His focus dropped, to her mouth. She swallowed—determined not to give herself away by licking her suddenly desperately dry lips. Her pulse thumped in her ears.
‘I’m kissing you. Can you feel it?’
Sophy blinked. Had she just dreamed that? Was that a fantasy moment? Had he really just said that? Like that—a purring whisper?
Mind sex. Was that what this was? Because she had to admit she was feeling it—and was desperate to feel more. Okay, she was delirious. She really was. Definitely burning up. She licked her lips, not realising she was ’til she was done and they were still tingling with the need for touch—his touch. His kiss.
Suddenly he was smiling—that absolutely brilliant smile that had disarmed her so completely yesterday.
She snatched in a breath—her lungs felt as if they were eating fire. ‘Get better soon.’ And she ran, his low chuckle hard on her heels.
Every time Sophy thought of the expression on his face as she’d left she blushed bodily. And it wasn’t without a few nerves that she walked up to the second floor three days later. Lorenzo was back on deck—Kat told her as soon as she arrived. And he was waiting for her in his office. She was to see him as soon as she got there.
Sophy had the feeling it was going to be interesting. He hadn’t liked her seeing him so vulnerable. Certainly hadn’t liked the way she’d handled it. If she’d learned anything about him from their brief meetings so far, he liked to be the boss. Only she’d overruled him. She suspected he was going to make her pay for that—only the burning question was how? In the devastatingly direct way that he’d reclaimed the power in his apartment? By using his way-too-potent sensuality? She totally shouldn’t be hoping so. Lorenzo Hall had playboy commitment-phobe stamped all over him—in permanent ink. She took a breath and knocked on his door.
‘Just a moment.’
She waited, her nerves stretching tauter with every tiny tick of her watch. What was this pause about—did he want to force her to break point? Because he knew, didn’t he? Was all too aware of his effect on her—and on any woman. Why, he’d used it to his advantage in his apartment—a look, a very few words and she was practically in a puddle at his feet. Then she heard him.
‘Okay, you can come in now.’
She opened the door and stopped on the threshold. Gaped.
He was standing by the window, had turned to watch as she came in. He was in jeans. But still no shirt. From behind him the light touched his body like an aura giving it a golden glow. It didn’t need the emphasis. It was blindingly gorgeous already.
It was as if she were two feet from a launch tower that had just sent a rocket into space—the heat from the blast nearly eviscerating her.
His torso was bronzed, no sheen from sweat this time, but she wanted to see it wet again. Her fingers wanted to slide through the slickness, they wanted to torment him to slickness.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Since when did she have rabid sexual fantasies about a virtual stranger? Such uncontrollable, lusty urges? She blamed it on the sight of all that beautiful skin.
‘The first time was a mistake,’ she muttered. ‘The second you couldn’t help.’ She opened her eyes and stared some more, watching as he slowly walked until he stood ten inches too far within her personal space. ‘This time—’
‘Was entirely deliberate.’
ALL Sophy could hear was the thud, thud, thud of her heart. ‘Deliberate?’
He smiled. Such a slow, amused smile she wondered whether the word had actually emerged from her mouth or whether it had just been some sort of scared-animal squeak.
‘You seemed to like it,’ he said quietly, tiny twin lights dancing in his otherwise incredibly dark eyes.
Like it? Oh, that was the understatement of the century.
She
