Janelle Denison: Too Wilde to Tame

It was so odd seeing Mia this way-so calm and compliant. He was still amazed she hadn't put up a fight when he'd carried her out of The Electric Blue, which was so unlike her. He was used to dealing with a feisty, impetuous woman-like when she'd pressed her hand against his cock in the bar's back hallway.

He swallowed back a groan. Just remembering how she'd brazenly stroked and squeezed his shaft through the tight denim confining his erection made him hard all over again. Such a predictable and unwelcome response when it came to Mia, yet he couldn't stop wanting her, no matter how hard he tried. There was no blocking the lust that kicked up his adrenaline whenever she was near. No shutting out the recurring fantasy he had of burying himself deep inside her soft, lush body and hearing his name on her lips when she came.

He shook his head hard to dispel that erotic image. God, this woman was going to be the death of him, he was certain. No doubt he was going to expire from the excruciating, all-consuming sexual tension driving him slowly insane.

She stirred against the seat and then her lashes slowly drifted open, revealing her smoky gray eyes that looked soft and dreamy. "Hi," she said, a slight rasp to her voice.

"Hi, yourself." He searched her face, wondering if she was still feeling tipsy, or worse, woozy from the drive. "Are you doing okay?"

A slight, knowing smile hitched up the corner of her mouth. "I'm not going to get sick all over your fancy car if that's what you're worried about."

She obviously knew him better than he would have given her credit for. "I'll admit, the thought did cross my mind."

"My stomach is fine." She shivered delicately and rubbed her bare arms with her hands. "I'm just a little cold from this wet top."

Yes, definitely cold, he agreed, and dragged his gaze away from her full breasts and the twin points pressing so enticingly against her shirt. "I'll give you something warm and dry to sleep in. Can you make it into the house on your own?"

She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, suddenly looking distressed. "I don't know. I'm feeling so… light-headed," she murmured and then cast him a forlorn glance. "But if I have a big, strong man like you to lean on, I could probably manage."

He couldn't tell if she was exaggerating or not, but he wasn't about to take any chances. So he got out of the car, went around to the passenger side, and helped her out. With one of his arms tucked around her back and her arm draped over his shoulder, he navigated the way into the house and down the hallway with her swaying on her high-heeled shoes by his side.

He still couldn't believe she'd entered that wet T-shirt contest and spoke without really thinking. "If your brothers had any idea what you've been up to tonight…" As soon as he felt her stiffen beside him, he let the rest of his comment trail off, sensing he'd hit some kind of nerve.

"They'd what ?" she demanded.

Oh, yeah, he'd definitely broached a sensitive subject with her. The defensive note to her voice was unmistakable, and as he turned the corner and escorted her into the guest bedroom, he chose his words carefully. "They certainly wouldn't have applauded your efforts during the wet T-shirt contest, and I'm sure they would have limited your alcohol intake."

Abruptly, she pushed away from him, surprisingly steady on her feet. Standing beside the bed, she braced her hands on her hips. "Between my brothers and cousins, and now you , you'd think I'm some kind of helpless female in need of constant protection."

"Your actions tonight, not to mention your drinking, was pretty damn irresponsible. If I hadn't been there, who knows what might have happened." He sliced a hand in the air between them. "Don't you think those guys out in the crowd wouldn't have tried taking advantage of you and what you were offering up on that stage? Mix in the fact that your inhibitions are dulled from alcohol-"

She cut off his statement with a sound of disgust. "I am so not drunk."

He snorted in disbelief. "Sure. Whatever you say."

"Watch closely, sugar." To prove her point, she stood on one high-heeled shoe, closed her eyes, dropped her head back, and touched the tip of her nose with her finger without so much as a waver-a difficult feat for most people with all their wits about them.

Once that was done, she straightened and met his gaze, silent laughter glimmering in the depth of her eyes. "See? I had one and a half drinks. And they were pina coladas at that. It's not like I consumed hard liquor cocktails. I wasn't the slightest bit tipsy at any point tonight."

The truth was like a slap in the face. Cameron stared at her, stunned that she'd deliberately duped him. Then again, it was so like Mia to scam him and enjoy every moment of it. No wonder she'd been so damn obliging.

What he didn't understand, though, was her reasoning behind this elaborate ruse she'd concocted. "Then what's with this act of yours?"

Her chin lifted a fraction, showing a hint of her stubborn personality. "You automatically believed the worst, so I figured why not give you exactly what you expected?"

He clamped his jaw tight. She'd got him there. He had assumed the worst about her condition right from the beginning, but what was he supposed to think when she'd deliberately given him that impression?

He narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing her more closely. "So you entered that contest sober?"

"Yep." She crossed her arms over her chest, which plumped the upper swells of her breasts and added to her already eyecatching cleavage. "If you want the truth, I entered that wet T-shirt contest because I wanted to see you squirm a little bit."

He lifted a brow in a challenging manner. "What makes you think that would make me uncomfortable?"

"I'm not talking about uncomfortable, as in making you embarrassed," she said sweetly, which contradicted the sinful, taunting light in her eyes. "I'm talking about making you restless, as in hot and hard. And we already proved back at The Electric Blue that I have that effect on you."

His entire body tightened at the recollection, and renewed awareness sliced through him, sharp and intense. He struggled to keep a tight rein on his desire and knew it was tenuous at best. "Give it up, Mia. We're so not going there." Because to do so would undoubtedly lead them down a path of no return this time around.

"Why not?" She shook her hair away from her face and strolled toward him, hips swaying gracefully, seductively. "Do I intimidate you? Or perhaps I'm too much for you to handle?"

She was back to doing what she did best-goading him. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, refusing to rise to her bait.

Stopping in front of him, mere inches away, she slid her hands up along his shoulders and around his neck, searing him with the exquisite feel of her breasts brushing against his chest. "Or maybe, just maybe, you're afraid of letting go, losing that precious control of yours, and liking it?"

She'd just pegged his deepest fears when it came to her, that a sober, clear-headed Mia was much more dangerous to his body and senses than an inebriated one. She knew exactly what she was doing, knew the risks she was taking, and was ready and willing to accept the consequences of her direct and calculated actions. Cameron suddenly realized he was in big, big trouble.

It was a potent combination he was hard-pressed to resist.

"Come on, sugar," she whispered against the corner of his mouth, teasing him with the promise of everything he'd denied himself for much too long. "I know you have it in you, and I know you want me as much as I want you." She nipped at his bottom lip and then soothed the slight sting with the soft caress of her tongue. "Maybe it's time we did something about this attraction of ours…"