‘I—I can’t breathe,’ she stammered, her teeth rattling.
He yanked off his cap and the bold, unfathomable blue of his eyes fixed on her face.
‘What’s wrong?’
You’re what’s wrong, she wanted to yell, but couldn’t say the words. She had to stop shaking first.
He bent his head. ‘Relax, darlin’.’ One calloused palm settled on her neck.
Her breath hitched painfully as he traced his thumb along her chin and then sank his fingers into her hair.
She tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a choked moan. His hand rested on her nape, holding her steady. ‘How about we try this?’ he coaxed, his lips so close she could taste the minty scent of his breath.
Then his mouth slanted across hers.
The second those firm lips touched hers, her pulse went haywire—as if she’d been plugged into an electric socket. Shock and something much more potent rocketed through her. Then his tongue slid over her bottom lip and a staggered groan escaped.
She should push him away, her mind screamed. But when her palms flattened against his T-shirt, the muscles quivered beneath her fingers and her hands slid down the hard plane of worn cotton. Her lips parted and his tongue plundered. Fire flashed through her, pulsing in her sex, hardening her nipples—and incinerating the last semblance of coherent thought.
He established a primal rhythm as her mouth opened wider to accept him. Then her tongue duelled with his, tentatively at first but getting bolder as the fire raged at her core. Strong, insistent fingers explored, slipping under her T-shirt, fanning her ribcage and making her buck against him as they caressed over-sensitive skin. Then she felt it. The thick ridge pressing into her belly.
She struggled, trying to wrestle back control of her traitorous body, and he broke away.
‘Whoah. That was something else.’ His ragged breathing matched her own as he rested his forehead on hers. ‘We’d best stop, before things get out of hand.’
Juno stiffened and shrank back as reality returned, dousing the last of the passion like a bucket of ice water.
What had she done? After six years of contented celibacy, she’d snogged a complete stranger in the middle of Heathrow Airport. A stranger she didn’t even like.
‘Please, could you move your hand?’ she said, brutally embarrassed as his thumb continued to rub lazily across her ribs, perilously close to the underside of her breast.
He drew his hand down, rested it on her hip. ‘How about we find somewhere we can continue this in private?’
She fumbled with her T-shirt, frantically tucking it back into her jeans as blood surged into her cheeks. Did he think she was a prostitute or something?
He put his finger under her chin, tilted her head back. ‘Is there something the matter?’
Of course something’s the matter. A nymphomaniac just hijacked my body.
She jerked free. ‘N-nothing’s the matter,’ she stammered.
‘You sure?’ His brows lowered. ‘You’re acting a bit strange.’
You don’t know the half of it.
‘I have to go.’ She had to get away from those prying eyes and that harsh, too handsome face, before the nymphomaniac returned.
His hand clamped on her wrist. ‘Now wait a minute,’ he said with irritating calm.
She tugged, but the warm manacle only tightened. ‘I really have to go.’
‘You don’t kiss a guy like that and then just walk off,’ he said, not sounding the least bit perturbed by what they’d just done. ‘And what about the extremely important thing you had to discuss with me?’
She opened her mouth to demand he let her go instantly. And then snapped it shut again.
Oh, no. The wedding invitation.
How could she have forgotten about Daisy’s wedding? And her mission?
‘Please, l-let go of my wrist,’ she stuttered, the words trapped behind the boulder of guilt stuck in her throat. ‘I have something for you.’
He released her, a sensual smile on his lips. ‘I think we already established that.’
Her blush intensified—and her nipples tightened. Damn him. How did he have that effect on her? ‘I’m not talking about sexual favours.’ She grabbed his wrist and slapped the envelope into his upturned palm. ‘It’s an invitation to your brother’s wedding.’
He tensed and the smile vanished as he stared at the invite.
‘It’s from my best friend, Daisy, your brother’s fiancée,’ she added.
His gaze lifted and she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. But it disappeared so quickly she was sure she’d imagined it.
‘I don’t have a brother,’ he replied, crushing the envelope in his fist.
That was one scenario she hadn’t even considered. ‘Of course you do,’ she blurted out, wondering what on earth had happened between this man and Connor.
He looked completely unmoved. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t beg, but after what she’d just done a little begging didn’t seem like such a big deal any more. She took a deep breath. ‘Please. You have to go. It’s really important.’
‘Not to me it isn’t,’ he said with enough arrogance to make her bristle. He lifted the invitation. ‘So you can give this back to your best friend and tell her I’m not interested.’
‘How can you be so callous?’ she asked, before she could think better of it.
‘How come this is any of your business?’ he shot back, a bitter smile twisting his lips.
She stiffened, stunned by the cold, emotionless tone. ‘I told you, Daisy’s my friend,’ she said, hating the defensiveness in her voice.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘So was the kiss her idea or yours?’
Juno’s mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. ‘You know perfectly well that kiss was your idea.’ What exactly was he accusing her of? ‘You know what, Mr Brody.’ Forget begging, she’d had about enough of Mac Brody and his titanic ego. ‘Just because you’re rich and famous it doesn’t give you the right to treat your family like dirt. Daisy and Connor are wonderful people—and they deserve a lot better than you.’
‘Is that right?’ To her fury, he chuckled. ‘So if you think I’m such a low form of life, why did you kiss me, then?’
If he didn’t stop talking about that damn kiss she was going to slap him. ‘I didn’t know you then. I do now.’
His lips quirked, apparently immune to the insult. ‘But you’ve yet to encounter the best bit.’
The vivid memory of his arousal had the blush burning in her cheeks. She thrust her chin out, refusing to acknowledge the strange sensation low in her belly. ‘I think you overestimate your charms, Mr Brody.’
He laughed. ‘But you’ll never know for sure now, will you?’
She didn’t dignify that with a reply, but she couldn’t help hearing his taunting laughter as she marched off.
Of all the arrogant, oversexed, thoughtless jerks.
Juno fumed all the way to the exit doors, her heart pumping in time with her angry strides. She’d been absolutely right about Mac Brody. He didn’t deserve a family as wonderful as Daisy and Connor and their beautiful baby boy, Ronan. Thank goodness he wasn’t coming to the wedding. What a relief