Fiona Brand - Marrying Mccabe

He was aroused.

The shock of the discovery sent a spasm of heat through her stomach, tightening her nipples in a rush, so that they pushed achingly hard against the soft cotton of her bra. For a long moment, time seemed to stop, become suspended, along with her breathing, while she struggled with that knowledge.

Awareness flashed in those cold wolf’s eyes, shivered down her spine. He held her gaze, seemingly unconcerned that she knew he was aroused.

One part of her wanted to back up a step, confused. After all, they’d been fighting on and off ever since they’d met. But another part of her was irresistibly drawn, attracted and curious. She wondered what it would be like to step up to McCabe and rub herself against him, bury her face in the curve of his neck and taste his skin, wind her fingers in his hair, then reach up and press her mouth against his.

A little shudder ran through her. Dangerous, she decided.

Her brothers had been wild when they’d been single, and they’d run with a wild bunch. Apart from his brief marriage, McCabe had always been in there.

‘‘Did you tell Gray how you felt about the shooting?’’

For a moment Roma had trouble grasping that, despite his sexual arousal, McCabe had coldly switched to bodyguard mode and wanted to talk about the shooting again.

‘‘He knew I was scared.’’

Ben studied Roma’s expression, the defensive way she clasped her arms across her chest to hide the jut of her nipples. Her breasts were round and full against her slim figure. The contrast of feminine lushness with sleek, firm muscle made his mouth water. He wanted to reach out now and cup her breasts, weigh them in his palms, rub his thumbs over her tight little nipples, then have them in his mouth. The mere thought of having her naked breasts in his hands, then sucking her nipples until she moaned, made him achingly hard.

Not that anything like that was about to happen. He was already walking a knife’s edge with his client, and when she heard what he was about to say, it was more likely she would slug him than allow him to touch her in any way.

‘‘There’s just one more thing,’’ he said softly. ‘‘You can’t have that room.’’

Her eyes narrowed. McCabe watched her closely, reluctantly fascinated by every nuance of expression. He knew Roma’s brothers as well as if they were his own family. Gray and Blade were both big, male, muscled—capable of pounding most other men into the dirt without breaking a sweat. Not that they brawled; they didn’t need to. Gray and Blade had always fought with intellect and technical skill as much as with the physical power of their bodies; they were warriors in every sense of the word.

Idly, he wondered how Roma would fight. Dirty, he decided—suppressing a grin. He could see her temper now, simmering just below the surface. Her skin had taken on a luminous glow, and her eyes flashed, dark and slumbrously exotic, as if she would go for the kill in a deceptively lazy feminine way that would flummox most men. They wouldn’t know she’d sunk the knife in until hours later, maybe days.

Then again, maybe not…

Suddenly he could see the resemblance to her brothers in her cheekbones, the strength in the line of her jaw, that fierce Lombard pride.

His lids lowered. No, Roma Lombard wouldn’t bother with manipulation or veiled insults, or even that female version of brawling, a sissy slap. An unholy excitement pulsed through him. She would just out and out slug him.

She didn’t bother to hide her incredulity. ‘‘Did you just say,’’ she said slowly, ‘‘that I can’t have this room?’’

‘‘You heard right.’’

‘‘Which room can I have?’’ she enquired with icy politeness.

He felt like saying ‘‘Mine’’ but pulled back from that precipice. ‘‘You can have the one through the adjoining bathroom. It’s more secure. This bedroom’s wide open in terms of access, with the terrace doors, and the doors leading into the bathroom and living area.’’

For long seconds she didn’t move, didn’t respond in any way, but instead of exploding as he expected her to, her expression smoothed out, becoming as controlled and remote as it had been at the airport. ‘‘All right.’’

She met his gaze coolly, although her cheeks were flushed, then astounded him by running her gaze down over his chest, his belly, stopping at his groin. He felt as though she’d just run her hand over him.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.