Bella wasn’t sure what he was asking. She licked her dry lips and looked at his mouth, that sensual, wicked mouth that could make her feel things she had no right to be feeling. She wanted to feel that mouth on hers again. She wanted to feel that mouth on her body, on her breasts, on her inner thighs, on the very heart of her desire. ‘You don’t love me,’ she said, running a fingertip over his bottom lip, her soft skin catching on his evening stubble.
‘You don’t love me either,’ he said. ‘If you did, you wouldn’t be promising to marry someone else, now, would you?’
She sent her fingertip over the contour of his upper lip this time. ‘Would you want me to love you?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s not what I want at all.’
She stilled the movement of her finger and looked up into his eyes, her heart beating double time at the smouldering look in his blue-green gaze. ‘Then what do you want?’ she asked.
He cupped her bottom with his hands, bringing her in close to the heated trajectory of his erection. ‘Do you really need to ask that?’ he said.
Bella felt her breath hitch in her chest as his head came down in slow motion towards hers. She had the chance to step away. She had the chance to say no. She had more than enough time to tell him she had no intention of making love with him.
But she didn’t.
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