‘I never said I was an angel.’ As he said it, his mouth tipped up in a twisted, devilish smile. She tried to give him a disapproving look but failed miserably and instead huffed out a sigh of resignation. How could she condemn him when she found him irresistible? And nothing was quite such a turn on as someone making it clear that they wanted you too. Conor’s direct gaze turned her inside out and when he began to rub his thumb over the soft skin of her inner wrist with slow insistent strokes, she wanted to cross her legs. Each pass over her skin seemed to send a signal direct to her rapidly overheating core.

‘Would you like another drink?’ The husky question seemed to vibrate through her.

‘No,’ she said, with a touch of desperation that brought a satisfied nod.

They both knew where things were headed and Hannah had reached a point where she didn’t see the need for any further delay. She was the sort of person that, once she’d decided on a course of action, she’d see it through. She might dither before coming to the decision, but once made she was a woman of her convictions. She wanted to sleep with Conor and she couldn’t for the life of her think why on earth she’d been fighting it.

As soon as they left the pub, Conor curled his hand into hers as they half ran and half walked back to the Land Rover. As he unlocked the doors, he snagged her hand and pulled her back towards him for fierce, quick kiss.

‘Conor,’ she laughed up at him, feeling a heady punch of power. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. ‘At this rate we’ll never get back.’

‘True,’ he said and with another one of those naughty smiles, bundled her up into her seat and slammed the door before hurrying around to the driver’s seat.

He drove with one hand on her leg, as if he had to keep touching her.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Yes.’ Hannah swallowed. ‘I’m sure. Are you?’

‘Oh yes. I just wanted to give you a chance to change your mind, if you wanted to.’

‘I’m not going to change my mind,’ she murmured, as his fingers massaged her inner thigh.

‘Just don’t want things to go off the boil on the way home,’ he teased, in a low, throaty voice.

‘You are a chef. I’m sure you’re quite adept at keeping things simmering.’

‘Oh, I am,’ he agreed, his hand inching a little higher.

‘Don’t you think you should concentrate on the road?’ she squeaked.

‘Where’s the fun in that?’

‘Staying alive is always good.’