“Ellie,” he said. “Someday you're going to have to face the fact that you want me.”

She looked up in surprise. Had he somehow read her mind?

“Shall I prove my point?” he murmured. Charles rose to his feet and advanced upon her. “What do you feel when I do”—he reached out and brushed his fingertips lightly across her cheek—“this?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, suddenly quite rooted to the spot.

“Really?” His smile was slow and lazy. “I feel a great deal.”

“Charles…”

“Shhhh. What do you feel when I do”—he leaned forward and captured her earlobe between his teeth—“this?”

Ellie swallowed, trying to ignore the way his hot breath caressed her skin.

He let one of his arms snake behind her, pulling her closer to the raw heat of his body. “What about”—he cupped her backside and squeezed—“this?”

“Charles,” she gasped.

“Charles, yes,” he murmured, “or Charles, no?”

She didn't say anything, couldn't have made a sound if her life depended upon it.

He chuckled. “I'll take that as a yes.”

His lips claimed hers in a hungry movement, and Ellie found herself clinging to him for support. She hated the way he could do this to her, hated herself for loving these feelings so. He was the worst sort of womanizer and had all but admitted that he planned to carry on affairs throughout their marriage, but he only had to touch her and she melted faster than butter.

It was, she supposed, why he had been so successful at womanizing. He had told her that he wanted to be faithful, but how could she believe him? Women must fall into his bed like dominoes—she herself was a perfect example. How could he resist them all?

“You taste like honey,” he said hoarsely, nipping at the corner of her mouth. “You taste like nothing else, like no other.”

Ellie felt herself tumbling to the bed, then felt his hard body upon hers. He was more than aroused; he was wild for her, and her feminine heart soared with the knowledge and power of it. Tentatively, she reached out and laid her hand against the strong cords of his neck. His muscles leaped under her fingers and she moved away.

“No,” he gasped, pulling her hand back to him. “More.”

She touched him again, marveling at the heat of his skin. “Charles,” she whispered, “I shouldn't be…”

“You should,” he said fervently. “You definitely should.”

“But—”

He silenced her with another kiss, and Ellie let him. If she couldn't speak, she couldn't protest, and dimly she realized that she didn't want to protest. She arched her back, instinctively moving toward his warmth, and gasped when she felt her breasts flatten against him.

He spoke her name, murmuring it over and over. She was losing herself, losing her ability to think. There was nothing but this man, and the things he was making her feel, and…

Ellie's ears pricked up.

…and a sound at the door.

“Charles,” she whispered. “I think—”