“Lily, what in bloody hell are you doing?”
Her head came up and she leaned into him, ignoring his tone and allowing him to hold her wrists but now pressing her chest tantalisingly against his.
“I’m making you talk,” she explained with a jaunty grin.
“I’m sorry?”
Without warning, her head bent to the middle of his chest where she’d managed to get his shirt unbuttoned. He felt her tongue on his skin and fire swept through him.
He jerked her back by her wrists.
“Lily, Natasha is in the next room.”
Her grin turned devilish.
“Then you better talk quick before I ravish you.” She leaned in again and ran her lips along the underside of his jaw and he felt his body’s immediate reaction even as he bit back a smile.
“Ravish me?” he said, amusement in his voice.
His hands loosened on her wrists and she put them to good use, pulling his shirt free of his jeans.
“You think I can’t do it?” Her head came up with her challenge and the midnight had nearly taken over the pale blue of her eyes.
He slid his hand into her hair at the left side of her head and gently fisted it at the back to hold her face tilted to his. His head descended and softly, against her lips, he said, “Oh yes, darling, I think you can do it.”
He felt, rather than saw, her smile and that feeling stole through him roughly.
“Tell me why you wanted to talk to me,” she coaxed, her hands edging lightly up the skin of his back.
He wasn’t proof against her playful mood and he gave in. “Tell me why you were smiling.”
His eyes were less than an inch from hers and he saw hers turn confused as her brows knitted.
“I’m smiling because you just admitted I could ravish you –” she began.
He shook his head and kissed her lightly then let his lips slide down her cheek to her ear, “Before, in your office, when you saw me in the door.”
She moved back and looked at him, and there it was, that knowing look in her eye, the smile twitching her lips.
“That?” she asked.
He nodded. “That.”
The smile deepened and, if it was possible, her eyes warmed further.
The she explained. “Remember when we first met, after Victor brought me back to his house and I was coming down the stairs when the police were there?”
Of course he remembered. He remembered like it happened only an hour earlier.
“Yes.”
“Well, you were leaning against the wall like the hero in a romance novel then and you were doing it again just now. And I remembered when you did it then and how much… how you…” she stopped for some reason and started again, “how I so very much wanted you to notice me when I saw you leaning against the wall like a romantic hero. And, well, and then you did, er… notice me that is.”
Her comment took him outside the playful mood, her words shaking him and he stilled.
“I’m sorry?” he queried.
She smiled at him, her eyes both alluring and dancing. “You’re just like the hero in a romance novel. I should know, I’ve read hundreds of them. So has Maxie, you can ask her. I promise, she’ll agree with me.”
Before he could reply, she pulled away, brought her hands up between them and started counting things, things about him, things that made his stomach clench, his chest ache and his throat close.
At the same time he felt all this, conversely, he also felt like bursting into laughter.
“First, you are inconceivably, impossibly handsome,” she began, “and you lean very well.”
“I lean well?” he asked incredulously.
She nodded vigorously. “Very well,” she assured him as if leaning well was a trait akin to honesty, integrity, diplomacy and generosity all rolled into one. “And you’re tall and dark and narrow-hipped –”
“Narrow-what?” Nate interrupted her but Lily ignored his interruption.
“And you’re very clever, beyond clever, you’re brilliant. And you’re hard-working. You’re virile and fierce –”
“Lily –”
“And rugged –”
He couldn’t help himself, he started laughing.
Rugged?
“Lily –” He tried interrupting her again but she stopped ticking off her hilarious list and put her hands on either side of face and what she said next made all amusement flee.
“You’re everything I ever wanted. You’re exactly what I wished for when I was fourteen years old. Exactly. You can ask Fazire, I told him what I wanted and then, years later, there you were. And you were perfect. I knew it the minute I laid eyes on you. I knew who you were and I knew I wanted you and I knew you were mine.”
Nate stiffened, his body going stock-still, and he shook his head, pulling away from her, putting distance between them and he felt his shields go up. He didn’t put them up, they went up automatically.
Softly, as a warning, he told her, “You have no idea who I am.”
She didn’t allow him to retreat. She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on tightly.
“I know exactly who you are.”
He shook his head again, once, a definite negative but she kept talking, this time her voice was fierce and there was an iron edging her words.
“You’re Nathaniel McAllister, you’re my lover, you’re the father of my child, you take care of your family, you’ll never let us go without again and you’ll never let me go again.” She flattened herself against him and lifted her lips against his. “Nate, you’re mine, you belong to me and I belong to you.”
He felt her words tear through him.
If she knew about him, her words wouldn’t be so fervent, so determined. He lifted his hands to either side of her face.
“You’re right, Lily, I’ll never let you go but you’ve no idea who I am.”
She kissed him silent and then said softly, “You can have your secrets, I don’t care about them. You can tell them or you can keep them. But Nate, I know who you are. I may just have learned your favourite colour but I know you’ll never let me hurt again. And you wouldn’t have done it before if you’d thought it was within your power.” Her gaze, which had been intent, lightened and she finished, “By the way, Jeff doesn’t lean. He slouches.”
At her quick change in topic, her tone moving from impassioned to playfully informative, unusually, Nate lost track of the conversation.