Janelle Denison: Tempted

“You lied,” she said, the accusation low and husky.

The mug stopped halfway to his lips. The very notion that he might have deceived her about something unsettled him. For all of his faults, he valued honesty, demanded it, in himself and others. It was a personal trait he’d insisted upon after that crisis in his life eight years ago.

“I did?” His confusion was evident in his voice.

“Yep.” She nodded slowly, seriously, though there was a twinkle in her blue eyes that softened her complaint. “I thought you said you and your friends would be gone before we got up.”

Relief coursed through him, and he grinned. “My intentions were honorable, I swear. But we got in after midnight, and I had no idea that the guys would be slow-moving in the morning.”

She strolled over to the table and surveyed the baked goods, selecting the chocolate French cruller he’d picked specifically for her. “Wild evening at the lodge?”

“We had a good time.” He took a long swallow of coffee, then shrugged, knowing he could have had a better time, if he’d been in the right frame of mind. If his mind hadn’t been on Brooke. “Dinner was decent, and they’ve got a great band in the bar. What did you girls do last night?”

“Talked and relaxed,” she said vaguely, then took a bite of her doughnut. Her eyes closed for a brief moment. Sheer enjoyment etched her features, and a tiny moan curled up from her throat.

Her tongue darted out to catch the chocolate at the side of her mouth, and he experienced an overwhelming urge to lick the icing off himself and nibble at the smear on her bottom lip.

Marc’s gut clenched tight, his reserve of willpower quickly dwindling. She had no idea just how erotic she made eating a French cruller seem, and her lack of self-consciousness or inhibition made him wonder about her response in bed, beneath him, with him sliding deep inside her—

Whoa. He cut off those intimate, forbidden thoughts, but the image lingered vividly in his mind.

On a satisfied sigh, she blinked her lashes open, saw him staring at her, and a becoming shade of pink colored her cheeks.

He leaned a hip against the counter, his gaze lingering on her damp lips. “It looks good.” He had first-hand knowledge that her lips, and the heated depths of her mouth, tasted equally sweet.

“It’s wonderful,” she admitted. “You remembered that I liked French crullers.”

Lifting his gaze to her eyes, he allowed a rogue grin to grace his lips. “How can a man forget something that brings a woman such pleasure?”

The twist in his words wasn’t lost on her. Her eyes widened at his sexy innuendo, but surprisingly, she made no attempt to counter his brazen comment. Finally, she drew a deep breath and looked away, breaking that irresistible, tantalizing pull.

He was flirting, crossing that invisible line he knew he ought to respect even though she was no longer married to his brother. They were both bound to get tangled up in the sensual web he was spinning if he didn’t stop this madness. He tried like hell to rein himself back, to dismiss the attraction that intrigued and enticed him beyond reason or his better judgment.

He took a sip of his coffee. “You plan on skiing today?” he asked, striving for innocuous conversation.

She smiled, seemingly grateful for the change in subject. “Stacey and I are heading to the slopes in about an hour. Jessica doesn’t ski, so she’ll stay here.” She took another bite of her doughnut, this time careful not to display her enjoyment of the pastry.

“I could give her a few basic lessons.” Pushing off the counter, he slowly crossed the small space separating them. “She’d be skiing in no time.”

Wariness reflected on her face as he approached, and she smoothly slipped around him and went to the sink to wash the sticky icing from her fingers. “Thanks, but I think Jessica prefers to just hang out in the cabin.”

Lifting the lid on the bakery box, he grabbed a glazed buttermilk and bit into it, contemplating Brooke’s sudden skittishness. “I noticed that the other snowmobile was gone. Who’s using it?”

“Shane and Stacey went out for a morning ride.”

“They’ve seemed to hit it off well,” he said, guessing from the various comments Shane had made the previous night that he wouldn’t mind pursuing something with the other woman. “In fact, I think my friend likes your friend.”

“What’s not to like?” Brooke asked, rinsing her coffee cup. “She’s got a great personality, a perfect body, and she’s naturally sensual.”

He tilted his head, and let his gaze take stock of her attributes. “You’ve got a great personality, a perfect body, and you’re very sensual.”

She rolled her eyes at that, clearly disbelieving him.

Obviously, his brother hadn’t appreciated what an enticing wife he’d had. “It’s all in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.” He finished off his doughnut, and sucked the glaze from his fingers, then shrugged. “I happen to think you’re very sexy. Always have.”

A wry grin quirked the corner of her mouth. “Interesting, considering my packaging didn’t hold your brother’s attention for long.”

And judging by the guarded look in her eyes, she believed she couldn’t hold his attention for long, either. Though his short-lived relationships verified her unspoken opinion, he found himself unjustifiably annoyed that she’d lump him into the same category as his brother.

He started toward her, and she automatically skirted to the side again, away from him and back toward the table. He turned to face her, and jammed his hands on his hips, his exasperation mounting. “You’re acting as though you’re afraid I’m going to pounce on you…or kiss you again.”

There, he’d said it, finally brought the forbidden kiss out into the open so they could discuss it, and move on.

She seemed just as relieved to be offered an opportunity to talk about what had so obviously caused tension between them. “About that kiss—”

“Something happened between us, didn’t it?” he asked, stepping toward her from the side, so she couldn’t bolt around him.

“Yes, but I think it’s best if we chalk it up as a mistake.” Her chin lifted as he neared. “A casual kiss that accidentally flared out of control.”

Like wildfire. “No, I don’t think it was a mistake or an accident,” he refuted, trapping her against the solid oak table so that her bottom hit the edge. His body crowded her from the front, but didn’t touch her…yet. “I think we both knew what we were doing, but then you panicked.”

“I came to my senses,” she argued, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him from coming any closer. One more inch and they’d be more intimate than he’d been with a woman in too many months to count. One more inch and she’d discover just how badly he wanted her, despite the dozen reasons why he shouldn’t.

“Marc, this is all so complicated.” She shook her head, confusion clashing with the wanting in her gaze. “If it was anyone but you…”

The honorable intentions he’d vowed earlier, to leave her alone, dissolved in that moment. Suddenly, he had a point to prove.

She gasped as his hands clasped her hips, then lifted her a fraction so her bottom slid onto the flat surface of the table. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

She frowned at him and his bold move, but the arousing shade of her eyes contradicted her prim attitude and countered the silent reprimand in her gaze. “It wasn’t meant to be a compliment, or an insult. It’s the truth.”

He grinned lazily and flattened his palms on her slender thighs. She sucked in a swift, shocked breath, and before she could guess his next intent, he pushed her legs apart and moved in between so her knees bracketed his hips, leaving her no possible escape.