“You’re getting curious about me,” he accused in a husky scold.
She couldn’t help it, despite her qualms. Her palms grew damp and she lowered her gaze to the nearly invisible golden hairs lying flat against the warm skin of his chest where it was exposed by his open collar.
This was a disconcerting experience, being pursued and wanting back. Saying no had always been easy because she had never felt drawn to the men who propositioned her. Suddenly she was susceptible to her own inner weakness and that scared her.
“There’s curiosity and there’s high-risk behavior,” she managed to toss out, retreating a hasty step as a nervous lump formed in her throat. “I’m actually quite choosy. More than you, if the rotation of women on your arm is anything to go by.” She kept her tone slightly jaded so he wouldn’t guess how genuinely put out and intimidated she was by the extent of his experience.
As she pretended to deliberate between French éclairs and honey-soaked baklava, he came up behind her and requested, “Two of each,” from the heavyset baker.
Rowan never allowed herself those sorts of treats, but she couldn’t contradict him. Her whole body was paralyzed by the brush of his body against hers.
He waited until the plump woman turned away before saying quietly in English, “And yet I keep getting the impression you’ve chosen me.”
Her knees nearly unhinged. It was too fast, too much of an assumption.
“My hormones might have, but I’ve given up more than just alcohol and parties. I didn’t like not being in control of myself—”
Big mistake. He leaned forward to exchange a few bills for the box of pastries and cut her an eloquent look rife with the anticipation of a challenge.
Her heart took a heavy swing and a dangerous dip. “I’m trying to act like an adult rather than follow silly impulses,” she defended. “That should impress you.”
“This isn’t an impulse. It’s an inevitability.” Nic couldn’t help putting his hand on her again, finding the spot just above her tailbone where her jacket had ridden up.
Her buttocks tensed and a tiny shudder rippled through her before she started back toward the car. Rowan wasn’t a fidgety person, but Nic was getting a distinct impression of skittishness. Was it because what she was feeling was stronger than what she thought she could control?
His mind went into a meltdown of smugness and desperation. He’d be damned if he’d admit it was the same for him, though. Part of him already felt defeated at the way he’d let things progress this far, this fast. He told himself he was playing her at her own game, but he was succumbing to exactly what he’d called it: inevitability. A tight coil of desire held him in its grip and all his focus had shifted to having her.
It was a weakness he could only bear if Rowan felt the same. If she didn’t … A barbed hook caught at his chest, giving a merciless yank. To reassure himself he set his hand on her thigh once she was seated, stroking lightly to part her knees and press her to make room between her boots for the bag of groceries.
Rowan’s leg jerked reflexively and she let out a subtle hiss, her eyes lifting to reveal pupils that went black as a hole in the universe.
Nic deliberately shifted his touch to a gentle caress of her knee. “Did I bump a scrape?” he asked silkily, but with genuine concern. He picked up her hand. “I see the bandages are off.” He turned up her palm to see the crosshatched skin was red and tender, but healing. “Looks better. That’s good.”
Rowan’s fingers trembled revealingly before she quickly tugged from his grip.
“Men are so predictable,” she said with an exasperated shake of her head. “You think you hear a dare and now your ego demands you prove something. I’ve been pressured too many times into doing things I didn’t want to do. I won’t let you bully me.”
“Of course not,” he said, oddly affected by how vulnerable she seemed all of a sudden. Beautiful, stubborn, and hesitantly anxious behind a wall of determination. A protective feeling flickered through him, but the fire was still there, always there, raging unceasingly. He let a smile touch his lips as he very gently smoothed her hair behind her ear, taking his time so they could both enjoy the quiet, deliberate caress.
A pretty flush gathered under her cheeks and her lashes fluttered with confusion while her lips seemed to bloom into a plump pout.
“Don’t worry, Ro. I understand a woman’s need for foreplay. I’m not going to rush you.” He almost went for a kiss, but remembered how public they were.
Straightening, he let the wind slice through his shirt and cool his scalp for a moment before noticing the sky was gathering for another downpour. They might outrun it. He was certainly motivated to hurry back.
Nic’s stark promise kept replaying in Rowan’s head. Foreplay. Was that why he grazed his knuckles against her thigh as he shifted gears? And played that music with the sexy Latino beat that echoed the thick pulse of her blood and put a soundtrack in her hips?
He had almost kissed her before he’d rounded the bonnet and climbed in on the driver’s side, and despite her plucky talk about holding him off all she could think about was hurtling back to Rosedale. Quiet, secure, private Rosedale. Where they might kiss.
And do more? She didn’t know—literally didn’t know—what to do.
He pulled up unexpectedly beneath the sprawl of a huge olive tree.
Rowan swung a wary glance at him, both relieved by the reprieve and mildly terrified that he had changed his mind about going home.
“It’s starting to rain.” He stepped out of the car and pulled his seat forward. “Didn’t you notice?” he taunted lightly.
She had no choice then but to offer a vague look into the olive grove and murmur, “Oh, look—puppies.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Sure I am.” She left the car and pulled her own seat forward to help him retrieve the removable side windows and canvas top. Her reflexes felt clumsy as she helped him snap and button everything into place, her whole being intimidated by the easy mastery with which he moved.
The patter of rain on the budding branches above them increased as they finished, bouncing through to hit them in fat dollops. They slammed themselves back into the car as the sky opened up. The drumming became a wild rush of sound.
As the windscreen blurred with heavy rain Rowan glanced at him, expecting him to start the car and pull out. In the muted light his blue eyes were charcoal, his body a mass of gathered energy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I can’t wait.” He leaned across, one hand cupping her cheek as he slanted his mouth in hot possession over hers.
Rowan gasped, parting her lips. Nic took devastating advantage, thrusting past the games and hesitations of their past kisses and slamming them into a new reality of raw seduction. His arm came behind her shoulders, gathering her up and providing a pillow as she yielded. So much had changed between them in the last twenty-four hours Rowan couldn’t do anything but give herself over to the flood of desire.
When his tongue touched hers lust struck with blinding ferocity, lighting a fire of aggression in her that made her kiss him back with equal fervor, lashing at his tongue with her own, fueling the blaze of need expanding around them.
She was dimly aware of a soft growl in his throat, that his fingers moved in a gentle caress of her jaw and throat, but she wouldn’t give up their kiss. Her hands went into his hair, holding him so she could harden the press of their mouths, inhibitions demolished by how instantaneously he inflamed her. She needed this more than air.
With another feral sound he