Marion Lennox - Forbidden Desires - A Debt Paid in Passion / An Exception to His Rule / Waves of Temptation

“A friend from school.” Sirena turned from the mirror, a wicked slide of excitement careening through her as she took him in.

He wore jeans and a button-down shirt open at his throat, cuffs rolled up to his forearms. He was the man who always made butterflies invade her middle.

“You dress like this for a woman?” His gaze made a slow, thorough study of her from collarbone to ankles.

“This is all that fits. I can’t show up in my sweats and trainers. Or do you mean I look like a pile of socks pushed into a leg of tights? Should I change?” Her hand went to the zip of her skirt.

His expression was dumbfounded. “Yes. No,” he insisted. “You look fine. Excellent. Beautiful. You’re not meeting a man?”

“Because my dating profile of ‘unemployed new mum with custody issues’ is so irresistible? No. I’m meeting a girlfriend. I wish you would quit calling me a liar.”

“I called you beautiful,” he said with a raking glance of masculine hunger, his frown both askance and...not critical, but not pleased.

She curled her toes in her shoes, disconcerted by how admiring and possessive he seemed. “I wasn’t fishing for flattery.”

He barred the door with his arm.

An uncomfortable silence stretched as her stepmother’s voice did a number on her again, cataloging the extra pounds and shadows under her eyes and lack of a manicure, but as Raoul skimmed his gaze down her figure once more, and his expression reflected nothing but male approval, she felt quite beautiful.

The swirling sensation in her abdomen redoubled and little sensors in her body began reaching out toward him, tugging her with magnetic power toward him.

She forced herself to stand still, but he dropped his arm and stepped forward until he was standing right in front of her, towering despite her heels. His gray eyes shone with a startlingly warm regard as he scanned her face and hair. Strong hands came up to frame her face with disconcerting tenderness.

Her breath stalled in her lungs as he started to bend his head, his gaze on her mouth.

“What are you doing?” she managed, pressing against his chest.

He paused, gaze smoky with intent. “Reminding you that if a man comes on to you tonight, you have one right here willing to satisfy your needs.”

He began to lower his head again but she leaned away.

“Don’t smudge my lipstick,” she argued shakily, the best protest she could rouse when her whole body wanted to let his take over. Her breasts ached for contact with the hardness of his chest and heat pooled between her thighs. A fine trembling invaded her limbs, making her weak. Her arms longed to reach out and cling to him.

At the last second, he veered to bury his lips against her neck. His light stubble abraded her skin while his open mouth found a sensitive spot on her nape that took out her knees.

“What are you doing?” she cried, melting into the arms that caught her. Her nipples sharpened into hard points as he applied delicate suction, marking her.

She should have stopped him, but she was held not just by his strength, but by a paralysis of physical joy. Her mouth ached for the press of his while her mind became a turmoil of unconscious thoughts, processing only the sensations of knowing hands skimming her curves as he laid claim to her hips and bottom. He was hard, ready, so tempting—

“You make me lose my mind,” he growled, steadying her before he released her. “Do not start anything with anyone tonight. The car is waiting. That’s what I came to tell you.” He walked out.

* * *

Raoul didn’t resent Sirena taking a night out, but he didn’t like having no right to question her comings and goings and suspected the reason was old-fashioned jealousy. Not an emotion he’d ever experienced, and definitely unwelcome, but she was so hot. As sexy as a year ago, but less buttoned-down and professional. With her hair loose and her full breasts brimming her top, he’d seen what every man in London would see: a beautiful woman.

And he wouldn’t be there to warn them off with a don’t-even-try-it stare.

He shouldn’t have kissed her, but he hadn’t been able to resist imprinting her with the knowledge he wanted her. She’d been skittishly avoiding him since their kiss outside Lucy’s bedroom and he’d been trying to ignore how badly he craved her, but his hunger grew exponentially every day.

It was frustrating as hell, but no matter how uncomfortable they both were with each other, they were equally devoted to Lucy. He couldn’t countenance anything more than a few hours of separation from his child, so he kept coming back to sharing his house with her mother.

Disgruntled, still smelling of her perfume, he waited in the foyer to watch her leave, arms folded.

Sirena appeared, checked her step and flushed. Ducking her head, she opened her pocketbook. “I have my phone if Lucy needs me.”

“We’ll be fine. Do you have David’s number?” he asked, mentioning his London driver.

“Yes, it’s programmed—” She swept her thumb across the screen and frowned. “Oh, I missed this from Amber. She’s sick. That’s disappointing.”

More like devastating, if her body language was anything to go by. Raoul was disgustingly relieved, but as he watched her shoulders fall and the pretty glow of excitement extinguish from her expression, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

She tempered her sad pout into a resigned quirk. “All dressed up and no place to go,” she said wryly. “Sorry to drag you all the way to London for nothing. I guess it’ll be sweats and trainers after all. I’ll just let her know I got the message...” She ducked her head to text a reply.

“You were really looking forward to this,” he commented as she finished.

She shrugged. “We chat online, but it’s like with my sister. Sometimes I want to see her and it’s frustrating when I can’t.” She blinked and he thought he glimpsed tears, but she started back to her room.

“Sirena.”

She stiffened, not turning. “Yes?”

He’d surely regret this, but there was something about the brave face she was putting on and hell, she looked amazing. He couldn’t let this butterfly crawl back into her shapeless cocoon.

“Come have a drink with me.” He jerked his head toward the unlit lounge.

“What? No. Why? I’ll be feeding Lucy later. I can’t.”

How many shades of refusal was that, he wondered with a twinge between amusement and exasperation.

“We’ll stick to the plan,” he countered. “Have the glass of wine you were planning to have with your friend and I’ll feed Lucy a bottle when she needs it. Going out was obviously something you were anticipating.”

“It wasn’t the wine.” She rolled her eyes. “I wanted to see my friend.”

“So come tell me why she’s so special to you.” He herded her toward the lounge and suspected she only let him because she was trying to pull away from contact with his palm against the small of her back.

“I don’t understand why you’d want me to.” She scuffed her spiky heels as he crowded her into the room with the sunken conversation area and the wet bar in the corner. He gave up trying to steer her and walked ahead of her, turning on a lamp on the end table before he brought the track lighting over the bar up to half power, keeping the mood soothing and intimate.

“You keep accusing me of not taking time to ask about your life. And...” He gestured at where her leg peeked from the slit in her skirt to the ruffles that framed her cleavage. “I can’t stand the idea of this going to waste. I’d take you out, but unlike you I haven’t arranged a sitter. Here. Have a seat and tell the bartender about your day.”

He held one of the high stools and she hesitated before warily scooting her hip onto it. He let his gaze linger on the curve of her pert backside as it flowed into the slope of her lower back. Damn, but he wanted to stroke and claim.