Risky Pleasures. Brenda Jackson
of furniture and it was plain to see everything in the house spoke of wealth.
And then there was this breathtaking view of the ocean through the large floor-to-ceiling window. She could stand there looking out at that view for hours, but she didn’t have that much time to spare, she thought, glancing at her watch. The five-minute wait time had stretched to seven, and a part of her refused to be kept waiting any longer. Besides, each and every time she was reminded of what she had seen of her neighbor yesterday made goose bumps form on her arms. What if he walked into the room wearing something as skimpy as the swimming trunks he’d had on yesterday? Or, worse yet, what if he was bold enough to walk into the room wearing nothing at all?
Vanessa felt her face flush at the thought and immediately decided maybe coming here hadn’t been a good idea after all. She should have waited until their paths crossed on the beach or something. Sighing, she was about to turn around when she heard a deep husky voice behind her.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Vanessa went still. She knew that voice. She knew that sensual texture, that smooth timbre, that silky reverberation. Her throat immediately tightened around the gasp that formed in it. She felt heat flow up her arms as a tingling sensation swept through her at the same time that realization streamed all through her. It was highly unlikely that two men could produce that same sexy sound. It was a voice she’d always thought was meant to seduce, and it could only belong to one man.
She quickly turned around and her gaze clashed with dark eyes, the same dark eyes she often fantasized about at night in the privacy of her bedroom. Before she could utter his name in shock and disbelief, she watched as a small smile touched the corners of his lips right before he spoke.
“Hello, Vanessa. Welcome to my home.”
“Your home?” Vanessa snapped the words as she fought the intense anger that was coursing through her, consuming every part of her body. If this was somebody’s idea of a joke, she wasn’t at all amused. She closed her eyes, hoping this was a bad dream. There was no way Cameron Cody could be here when he was supposed to be in Charlotte. But seconds later, when she reopened her eyes, he still stood across the room, staring at her. She could feel her blood pressure rise.
Her gaze swept over him. His head was clean-shaven, his eyes deep and dark. An angular jaw with a cleft in the chin completed an outrageously handsome face. This was the first time she’d seen him wearing anything other than a business suit or tux, but the jeans and pullover shirt looked good on him. He appeared tall, solid, rugged and impenetrable. And just as yesterday, when she had seen him from a distance, his mere presence denoted some sort of masculine power.
“Yes, my home,” he said, breaking into her thoughts and stepping into the room.
She narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “And just when did you buy it?”
“A few days ago,” he replied in a low, controlled voice, a sharp contrast to hers. She was livid and her voice reflected her emotion.
“Please don’t tell me that you bought this house when you found out I was coming here.”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and met her narrowed gaze. Instead of showing any sign of wilting under her angry stare, he simply said, “Okay, then I won’t tell you.”
Vanessa heard her own teeth gnashing and wondered if he heard it, as well. Angrily, she strode to the center of the room to stand in front of him. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”
“I prefer to know your thoughts instead, Vanessa. You tell me who you think I am.”
She tried not to notice the sexy drawl in his voice when he’d said her name, or the intense look in his eyes. She threw her head back and tilted it at an angle. “I think you are the most ruthless, uncaring, callous, hard-nosed and unfeeling man that I know.”
He nodded slowly and then said, “If you believe that, then it means you really don’t know me very well, because I’m considerate, compassionate, loyal and passionate. I can prove it.”
Of the four qualities he’d named the only one she could believe he had in his favor was passion. “I don’t want you to prove anything. You being here and buying this house only show how far you’ll go to get something you want, something you intend to possess. What is it about me that has become an obsession to you, Cameron? Is it because the Steele Corporation was the one company you couldn’t get your cold, callous hands on and now you’ve decided to go after me for revenge?”
“My wanting you has nothing to do with revenge, Vanessa. It has everything to do with the intensity of my desire for you.”
A part of Vanessa wished he hadn’t said that one word, a word she’d been battling since meeting him. Desire. Cameron Cody wasn’t a man a woman could ignore—at least not a woman with any degree of passion in her bones. There was something about him that grabbed you, snatched your attention the moment he walked into a room. It was something that went beyond just a handsome face and a well-built body. There was something perilous about him, something downright lethal. She was convinced that beneath his civilized side there was a part of him that could be downright ruthless, unrefined and plain old raw. Some women were drawn to such men, but she wasn’t.
“I care nothing about the intensity of your desire for me,” she finally said. “I just want to be left alone.”
“I’ve left you alone long enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I’ve left you alone long enough,” he drawled smoothly and in a way that had those same goose bumps reappearing on her arms. “I’ve given you more time than I’ve given anything I’ve ever wanted.”
Fire flared in Vanessa’s eyes. She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. “And should I feel grateful about that?”
Cameron moved a step closer. “It’s not gratitude I want you to feel. Right now I want you to feel something else altogether.”
Before she could blink, he stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. His mouth descended upon hers, snatching her next breath. For some reason that she didn’t understand, instinctively her lips parted at the same time she felt strong hands wrap around her. Before she could register anything else, before she could regain total control of what was happening and stop it from going further, Cameron inserted his tongue into her mouth.
The moment she sampled his taste, just as bold and daring as the rest of him, she gasped. Then she moaned deep in her throat when her pulse rate escalated. Suddenly, she felt a spine-tingling sensation race through her body, along with an intense need to put all she had into this kiss.
The kiss was everything she’d hoped it would not be, the kind of kiss that drew her to him like a magnet. It was the kind of kiss that did more than give her a sampling of his taste. It was feeding her in a way she had never been fed before. His invasive tongue was doing things a male tongue had never done in her mouth before, making it an art. With other men, she had considered kissing a chore, something that was expected of you.
But Cameron was taking the art of French-kissing to a whole other level. It was downright scandalous, all the things he was doing. But a part of her didn’t want him to stop. And he was getting her to join in the erotic byplay, something she had never done before.
She felt herself drowning in his sensuality, getting smothered in the passion. And she knew if she didn’t put a stop to this madness now, he would claim a victory; the same way he did with anything else he went after. And she refused to become another one of his claimed possessions.
With more strength than she’d thought she had, she pushed herself out of his arms and inhaled deeply to regain control of her senses. She felt flustered and knew she probably looked it, as well. But to her way of thinking, he maintained a calm demeanor, looking totally in control, programmed and completely at ease. His coolness made her even angrier. It also proved what she’d said earlier. The man had no feelings.
“That should not