No Apologies. Tracy Wolff

than enough left to give her what she wanted?

      Refusing to be a coward—she’d done nothing wrong, after all—Annalise slowly lifted her head and let her blue eyes meet his nearly black ones across the dining room. Sparks leapt between them, as they had every day since they’d first laid eyes on each other three months before.

      She’d been having dinner with some friends at a trendy La Jolla restaurant and he’d been involved in yet another business meeting. She’d brushed past his table on her way to the ladies’ room and had fallen instantly in lust. Not that any sane woman could blame her. The man was yummy—with a capital

       Y. Beautiful mocha skin covering incredible muscles. Dark, sexy eyes that promised more pleasure than it should be possible to feel. And those strong, work-roughened hands that had delivered on all the promises his eyes had made and many more to boot.

      They’d spent the first two days of their acquaintance in his bed, and she’d come so many times in the first twenty-four hours that she’d lost count some time after number twelve. Much of their subsequent acquaintance had been spent in bed as well—at his place and hers.

      Taking a long, cool drink of water, she smiled sassily at him. Tried to appear unaffected by the rage sizzling—hot and dangerous—in his eyes. It was setting fire to the very air around them until she felt like she could barely breathe, the oxygen trembling in her suddenly shaky lungs. Anger, possession, lust—and other emotions she couldn’t begin to name—shot across the room from him to her. Her nipples—already pressed against the thin silk of her dress—tightened to the point of pain. She knew he could see them, but she was too far gone to care. It took all her control not to spread her legs and beg for it.

      But she refused to back down—even if the prize was the hot and satisfying sex he was the absolute best at providing. Besides, they’d get there eventually. The attraction between them wouldn’t allow anything less.

      Leaning back in her chair, Annalise let her head drop back and ran her hands through her long black hair. The action thrust her full breasts forward, making her erect nipples even more obvious. She stretched, a long, feline movement that inched her dress farther up her thighs and revealed the lace tops of her thigh highs and the smooth, pale skin above them.

      Angelo let out a long, low whistle as he dropped off her second glass of wine. “You’ll have him whimpering in a second, babe,” he whispered in her ear. But a searing look from Gabe had him hightailing it back into the kitchen before she could answer.

      Need shivered through her—hot, aching, alive—and she pushed away from the table before she lost it completely. Grabbing her skinny purse with one hand, she ran the thumb from her other hand over an aroused nipple. Once, twice, in plain view of anyone who cared to look. She didn’t care who else saw as long as Gabe was watching.

      As she turned toward the bathroom, the heat skating up her spine assured her that he was indeed watching her instead of concentrating on whatever his clients were saying. She wasn’t the least bit sorry.