She laid her drink on the table next to her and lifted her arms over her head.
Damn. She wore tiny little khaki shorts and a halter top. Said top pulled against her breasts as she arched her back, her nipples outlined against the light-colored material. Dalton stilled, not wanting her to move from that position.
The curve of her body was perfect. If she was naked, an artist would paint her in that pose. He wanted to move to her chair, trace the line of her hips and waist, down her legs and back up where the side of her full breast peeked out from the halter. He’d bet all the money he had that her skin felt like buttery silk.
She chose that moment to turn her head and gaze at him, offering up a knowing look.
Dalton’s entire body tightened, heating in a rush of lust and overpowering sensation. His cock roared to life and he could do nothing to stop the raging pulse of his libido.
Isabelle’s lips parted expectantly, the invitation obvious. All he had to do was take what she offered.
His breathing shortened, his circuits going haywire as his body centered on one thing. Woman. Flesh. He wanted to kiss her, to see if she tasted as good as she looked. But he didn’t want to stop there. His thoughts went deeper. Being inside her, moving against her, feeling her yield underneath him. How long had it been? He didn’t even remember the last time. All he knew was he wanted this. Right now. With Isabelle.
But he held firm, the revelations from tonight stopping him. They were too much alike; there was more at stake than just a joining of the flesh. He wasn’t even certain what would happen if the two of them. .
No. He wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t sure he could even handle it. His mind warred with his body, the struggle intense as he fought against what he wanted more than anything, but knew he shouldn’t have.
Finally, he swallowed and turned his gaze to the sea.
He heard her soft sigh, knew he’d insulted her, but couldn’t figure out what the hell to say or do to fix it.
“I think I’ll turn in for the night,” she said after a few moments of anguished silence. “It was a long day and I want to get a head start in the morning.”
He heard her, but didn’t trust himself to look at her again. Whether it was embarrassment at his hesitation or his lack of trust in the raging beast inside him, he didn’t know.
“Sure. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He heard her walk down the hall, then the door close to her room. Only then did he exhale, lean forward, and drag his hands through his hair.
Fuck. He hadn’t been prepared for this. Everything else, yes. This, no.
He stood, trying to shake off the effects that lightning bolt of sensation had caused.
He’d had Isabelle all set up, primed, relaxed and ready. With a little coaxing, he could have gotten what he wanted.
And maybe an unexpected bonus.
But that wasn’t what he was here to do.
He walked to the side of the yacht, his fingers curling tight to the rail as he tilted his head back, searching the heavens for answers to his dilemma.
Could he really do this assignment? Even if it meant taking that next step with Isabelle, knowing what he was, what he was capable of?
It was his job. He had to do his job, no matter what it entailed.
Even if his job included succumbing to the most sinful, sultry temptation.
He’d walked down that road before, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like the result could be any worse than the last time he’d chosen hell over heaven.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After last night’s oh-so-clear rejection, Angelique had done her best to steer clear of Ryder. She had gone straight to bed, and spent the entire next day going about her business and ignoring him. Not that she really had any business to do. She was stuck in this house with a man who had no desire to be there with her.
Though that wasn’t true. At least the desire part. Evidence of said desire had been quite clear last night, yet he’d still pushed her away-which both insulted and intrigued her.
Fine. That wasn’t the purpose of their being together anyway. It would mean complications neither of them wanted or needed, so he’d been right to put a stop to it. He’d been the levelheaded one; she’d been all gooey and emotional and passionate. She’d have pressed on, and that would have been a mistake.
Thankfully, one of them had common sense. Her mother had always told her that her passion and curiosity would land her in trouble, that she was too open, too willing to give her heart. That she should be more wary. But that just wasn’t Angelique’s nature.
She should probably start remembering her mother’s advice and save herself some heartache.
Something about Ryder sparked her, though. She’d been attracted to men before and never done anything about it. So what was it about him that made her so stupid?
She rolled her eyes and looked out the kitchen window. Ryder was outside talking on his cell phone. Frowning. News, maybe? Should she even bother to care?
She’d had breakfast, lain by the pool the better part of the day until her skin had turned prunish, then taken a shower and fixed dinner. Just a salad with some leftover chicken that Ryder had barbecued the night before. She supposed she could wander out there and let him know it was ready.
