A Hint of Scandal. Tara Pammi
sure no other parts of their bodies touched.
Her eyes flew shut the moment she felt his breath upon her mouth. Tilting her head to the side, she touched her lips to the corner of his mouth, aiming for minimal contact. Every good intention vanished like a puff of smoke as the taste and feel of him singed her. Primal need spiraled through her, leaving a trail of agony in its wake. A groan she couldn’t control escaped her. Her hands locked on his chest between them. Their legs were in a tangle. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the wild scent of his arousal, fighting to control her own.
“Say yes,” he rasped near her ear.
Oh, how she wanted to find his mouth again with hers, to run her hands all over his corded strength. Swift on the sinful thought’s heels guilt shot through her, paralyzing every nerve ending, flushing her with shame from within. Contrary to the fact that the media frequently portrayed her as a poster child for scandal, there was a line Olivia wouldn’t cross.
Not again.
She pushed him back with a grunt, frustration and disgust vying within her. “No.” She pressed her fingertips into her arms, finding a perverse satisfaction in her painful grip. Trying to regulate her breathing, she offered him a smile. “I mean, not tonight. I’m really tired.”
He shot her a hard look, coating the very air between them with a chilly frost. “You taste like scotch and the ocean. And yet Kim can’t stand even the smell of alcohol.”
She twisted around so quickly that her head spun. His mouth was set into an unforgiving line and his gaze lanced her, the force of his contempt a live wire between them. He knew it was her.
She launched at him, outrage giving her much-needed momentum. “You know.” His arms between them warded off her blows with little effort. She didn’t care. “You know and you still forced me to kiss you. You bastard.”
Her words fell off him like waves pushing at the sand. His face hard as granite, he grabbed her wrists. “I wanted to see how far you would go.” His mouth tightened and his words were a quiet, menacing whisper. “Color me surprised to discover even Olivia Stanton has some morals.”
She didn’t think. She fisted her hand for a punch. Only his right hand gripped her wrist, his movements quick and agile. She struggled, remembering how hard she had found it to pull herself back from the temptation of his body. And the arrogant jerk had been testing her!
If she hadn’t pulled back when she had...if she hadn’t found that last ounce of sanity...to think how low she would have fallen....
A sob built inside her. His hands held hers down at either side. He could have easily twisted her arm behind her and hurt her. She wouldn’t have blamed him. He didn’t. A moan escaped her as he flipped her easily, sandwiching her facedown between the sand and his hard body.
Hating her complete loss of restraint, she wiggled to be free. The silky sand shifted and glided beneath her until his hard body slipped and covered hers in a sinuous whisper that made her mouth dry. His body slammed into her from behind with just enough force to still her.
“Stop it, Olivia.”
His breath sounded choppy and disjointed as he raised himself away from her. But it was too late. The incredible caress of his erection against her backside was etched on her body forever.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
He already had. Olivia breathed in and out, sand flying into her mouth, hating the gnawing sensation in her stomach. Why would Alexander King’s opinion have the power to hurt her? She gave that power to no man, not anymore—not since she’d realized she was only asking for more heartache.
She raised her head and turned around. She could do nothing about the trembling in her stomach, but she filled her words with scorn. “I kissed you because I was pretending to be Kim. And, yes, for some unfathomable reason I’m attracted to you. But the whole world knows I’ve the worst taste in men. What’s your excuse?”
* * *
He didn’t have one.
Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he had been so aroused, felt so out of tune with his own body. He usually had no problem controlling his needs as it suited him. Yet in that moment he’d had to summon the last ounce of his self-discipline to stay still. Adrenaline pumped through him, begging for release. He sucked a breath in and counted to ten. His muscles burned. He clenched his teeth.
He loosened his grip on her wrists. Her skin was smooth against his fingerpads. Greedily he drank in the luscious temptation she presented. His thighs shook with the need to lean back into her so that he could feel the inviting cradle of her butt against his erection. Desire rattled through him. He moved his fingers up her arm toward the delicate arch of her neck. She gasped. He jerked back as though burned.
What the hell was he doing? He needed to find out where Kim was, get on a flight to Paris... Instead, he...
He moved to his knees and pulled himself away from her, his mind whirring. “What you provoke in me is a physical reaction—purely animalistic. Temporary insanity fueled by six months of abstinence. There’s nothing more I despise in the world than a man or a woman who can’t control those impulses.”
As though the fight had left her, she sagged into the ground, careful to move her body away from his. “Please, Alexander. Let me go.”
Shifting back, he stared at her, unwilling to touch her even to pull her up.
She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, her movements jumpy, her willowy body trembling. His gaze fell to the impressions on her wrists. He sank back to his knees with a silent thud, feeling an invisible punch to his gut. Dear God, he had done that to her. Even in the silver light of the moon there was no mistaking the light red marks on her wrists.
Whatever she had done, however much she had provoked him, there was no excuse. Everything he hated within himself, everything he kept tightly bound, had snapped free in a matter of seconds. Shame spiraled through him, cooling his desire, drenching him in a cold sweat—a familiar sick feeling that greeted him like an old friend.
To use brute strength to control...it was the lowest he could sink to.
He pulled her hands into his and cursed when she pulled back like a frightened cat. “We should run some cold water on your wrists.”
She stood up, dusting away the sand from her body, her gaze pointedly looking away from him. “I’ve had worse. This is nothing.”
He hated the clawing need to explain that he wasn’t that man. But he wouldn’t be able to look at himself if he didn’t. “You probably don’t expect better from the men in your life.” He ignored her gasp. “I expect better of myself.” He tilted his head, seeking again the proof of his boorish behavior. “I apologize, Olivia. Nothing justifies my behavior.”
Her gaze studied him, disbelief pouring out of her stiff shoulders. “I provoked you. I—”
He shook his head. “That’s the pathetic excuse of a weak man.”
She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off.
Stepping back from her, he fisted his hands by his side. “Get dressed. I’ll see you inside.” His words were clipped, his anger at himself coating his throat. “And don’t even think of leaving.”
CHAPTER THREE
IF ALEXANDER HAD assumed that he would be less distracted with her dressed, he was wrong. Just as he stepped into the huge open-plan kitchen Olivia entered through the high archway, covered in his white robe, the one Kim had borrowed from him two days ago, her honey-gold hair gleaming wet, her skin glowing pink.
He pulled his gaze away from the vee of the robe and poured himself a drink from the bar. The sounds of her puttering around the kitchen beat a tattoo in his head. His patience running dangerously thin, he guzzled down his scotch. The erotic reminder of how it had tasted on her was forever imprinted