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How cliché, but damn, how true.
Because every instinct in him growled to capture, cover, take…bite. He wanted her. Wanted her to be his. As the strength and certainty of the thought echoed inside him, he neared her. Close enough to glimpse the delicate line of her jaw and the vulnerable nape of her neck. To inhale the heady, sensual musk that contained notes of roses, and warmer hints of cedarwood and amber…or maybe almond. Tonight's mission would be to discover which one. For yet another time this evening, he murmured, "Excuse me." But in this instance, he wasn't trying to escape someone. No, he wanted to snare her. Keep her. At least for the next few hours. Look at me. Turn around and look at me. The plea rebounded off his skull, and the seconds seemed to slow as she shifted, lifting her head and meeting his gaze. His gut clenched, desire slamming into him so hard he braced himself against the impact. But it still left him reeling. Left his body tense, hard.
A long fringe of black hair swept over her forehead and dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, but neither could hide the strong, regal lines of her face, the sharp cheekbones, the chocolate eyes or the lush siren's call of her mouth. Damn, that mouth. He dragged his fascinated gaze away from it with a strength that deserved a gold medal. But nothing, could cleanse his mind of the acts those curves elicited. Acts that left him throbbing and greedy.
She turned. "Did you need a glass of champagne?" she asked, lowering her eyes to the tray she held. No, keep your eyes on me. The order rolled up his throat and hovered on his tongue, but he locked it down. Damn, with just a few words uttered in a silk-and-midnight voice, he'd devolved into a caveman. Once more, a warning to walk away clanged inside him, but-like moments earlier-he ignored it. Nothing else mattered at the moment. Nothing but having that sex-and-sin voice stroke his ears. Having those hands slip under his clothes to caress his skin. And those oval-shaped eyes fixed on him.
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