Mr. Temptation. Rachael Stewart
prided herself on knowing her own mind, for heaven’s sake—why was he making that so hard?
‘Yes, I do,’ she said, placing the jug back on the drainer, grateful that her voice gave away none of her internal wrangling and feeling her resolve swell.
You’ve put the idea out there, you can bloody well follow it through.
Turning to look at him, she leisurely travelled his entirety, taking in his sheer beauty, his continued silence and bemusement, and her tummy gave the smallest little flutter. Was he going to turn her down?
Hell, no.
‘Unless, of course...’ she said the words softly, teasingly, her legs moving of their own volition to close the distance between them ‘...you don’t want to?’
He didn’t budge, his body seemingly fixed in place as he watched her approach, a telltale pulse ticcing in his jaw as he no doubt worked to gauge her intent.
He didn’t have to wait long, not in this confined space.
Once she was within touching distance she reached out, her fingers hooking over his belt buckle with daring provocation. The move bold and quite unlike her. Yet it felt completely natural, instinctive with him, as did the words that slipped from her lips. ‘Unless, of course, you don’t fancy a bit of fun together?’
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