Jesus, she was in so much trouble.
He quietly led her across the room to stand in front of the tall screen.
“Great,” Laurence said. “Just be natural. Pretend we’re not here.”
Seriously? She could feel the eyes of every person in that room on her, onthem. Her senses were so sharpened, she could hear their inhales, smell the clean notes of Laurence’s Tom Ford aftershave. And if she glanced around, she’d glimpse the curiosity his team tried to hide behind their professionalism.
“Look at me,” Cain murmured, low enough that it only carried to her ears. Unlike before when he’d issued orders, she couldn’t help but obey. She lifted her gaze to his. “Your choice, Devon.”
Her choice. He was giving her what had been stolen from him by her father and her, or so he believed. And yet, he was offering a choice to her when he could just take.
A longing so deep it verged on pain filled her. A longing for the impossible. For time to reverse itself and all the events that had occurred—her father’s interference, this forced engagement—to have never happened. That the impromptu meeting in the garden had been the impetus for a true romance and this moment they shared right now was genuine instead of a phony prop for an equally phony relationship.
But even God couldn’t undo what was. They couldn’t go back. She couldn’t have that fairy tale. Still... Maybe she could have an element of that fantasy. A kiss. A bit of romance. A little tenderness. It wasn’t too much to ask—too much to take.
She nodded.
Heat flashed in his eyes like dry lightning, lending his wolf eyes an almost eerie glow. And in that instant, she identified with prey. But instead of running away, she edged closer, tipping her head back. And if she resembled a creature exposing its vulnerable neck? Well, she credited it to the surreality of this moment.
Cain lifted his hand, but instead of cupping her face as she expected, he gripped the knot of hair twisted behind her head and tugged. Before the gasp could leave her lips, he’d freed the heavy, long strands. Shocked, she stared up at him, unable to contain her shiver as his blunt-tipped fingers dragged over her scalp then tangled in the wavy mass.
“I’d wondered,” he murmured, echoing the same sentiment she’d uttered to him back in the garden when she’d first seen his eyes.
“You wondered what?” she whispered.
His inspection shifted from his hands buried in her hair to her eyes. The unfiltered desire in his gaze punched her in the chest and, reeling, she grasped at anything to steady herself in the wake of it. Him. His waist, to be more exact. Her fingers dug into the firm flesh that seemed to sear her through his white dress shirt. Instead of snatching her hands away from the heat, she burrowed closer. Clung harder.
He didn’t answer her, but his hold on her thick strands tightened, and he pulled, tugging her head back farther. She shouldn’t like that tiny pricks danced across her scalp. Shouldn’t have loosed that low, needy sound that telegraphed exactly how much she liked it. But she did both, and when Cain’s eyes narrowed, lust flaring brighter, hotter, she couldn’t regret either.
She anticipated a conquering, passionate onslaught when the kiss came. But he surprised her again. He brushed his lips over hers. A gentle caress. A tender pursuit. Andoh God. How she wished he’d overwhelmed her with lust. It would’ve been less confusing. Less devastating. She could’ve chalked up a hungry siege to lust and anger. Could’ve responded with the same. But this? She sighed. Or maybe whimpered. Either way, she melted. Her lips parted, and she couldn’t resist the lure of the mouth that could appear so hard and cruel, but in truth was so incredibly soft. And sensual. And beautiful.
Canting her head to the side, he molded that gorgeous mouth to hers, his tongue sweeping in, questioning even as he invited her to dance. And she did. No hesitation. With that decision, that surrender, the hunger she’d initially expected followed.
Now she understood why he’d gentled her first.
To prepare her for this.
He was a carnal marauder. A conqueror. And she, the willing captive. His for the seizing. And as he drove deep, licking, tangling and sucking, he razed a path of destruction through her senses. Through any past experience of what a kiss was or should be.
And she wanted more.Neededmore.
“I think I have what I need.” Laurence’s voice, thick with amusement, penetrated the dense fog of lust that enshrouded her.
She stiffened, and Cain went rigid against her.
Mortification and despair roared to life within her, chasing away the passion that had blinded her to the fact that they had an audience. Mortification because she’d lost herself in his arms, had laid out her desire for him and in turn, offered him a tool to use against her. A damn novice’s mistake. And in this game, she was far from a novice.
And despair because even now, anger crystallized his light gaze. At her, at himself—she didn’t know. Not that it mattered. His remorse and disgust were plain for her to glimpse, and for a foolish instant, she mourned the loss of the tender, sensual stranger who had drawn both hunger and wonder from her with his kiss.
“Are we finished here, then?” Cain asked, stepping away from her. The cold rushed in, wrapping her in its chilly embrace.
Pride constrained her arms at her sides, refusing to let her wrap them around herself in protection.
“Yes,” Laurence nodded, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents of tension running between her and Cain. Or maybe he just interpreted it as sexual, considering the display they’d just put on. “I think you’re going to be very pleased with the photos, Mr. Farrell.”
Cain spoke with the photographer as he and his crew packed up, negating the need for her to engage in conversation. Thank God. Because she couldn’t string two sentences together right now if she’d wanted to.
She glanced at Cain, scanning his tall, wide-shouldered frame, the powerful chest, flat stomach and long, muscular thighs. A sizzling coil of desire unfurled within her, and she raised her hand to her mouth, touching her trembling fingers to her tender lips.
