“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, holding my gaze, and I gasp as he begins flicking his thumb over my clit, side to side, then up and down. His fingers curl inside me, and I suppress a moan as he hits a spot that sends an even sharper pang of sensation to my nerve endings. A tension begins to coil inside me, the pleasure gathering and intensifying, and with shock I realize I’m on the verge of orgasm.

My body, usually so slow to respond, is throbbing with aching need at the touch of a man who scares me—a development that both astonishes and unnerves me.

I don’t know if he sees it on my face, or if he feels the tightening in my body, but his pupils dilate, his pale eyes darkening. “Yes, that’s it.” His voice is a low, deep rumble. “Come for me, beautiful”—his thumb presses hard on my clit—“just like that.”

And I do. With a strangled moan, I climax around his fingers, the hard edges of his short, blunt nails digging into my rippling flesh. My visions blurs, my skin prickling with heated needles as I ride the wave of sensations, and then I sag in his grasp, held upright only by his hand in my hair and his fingers inside my body.

“There you go,” he says thickly, and as the world comes back into focus, I see that he’s watching me intently. “That was nice, wasn’t it?”

I can’t even manage a nod, but he doesn’t seem to need my confirmation. And why would he? I can feel the slickness inside me, the wetness that coats those rough male fingers—fingers that he withdraws from me slowly, watching my face the whole time. I want to close my eyes, or at least look away from that penetrating gaze, but I can’t.

Not without letting him know how much he frightens me.

So instead of backing down, I study him in return, seeing the signs of arousal on his strong features. His jaw is clenched tight as he stares at me, a tiny muscle pulsing near his right ear. And even through the sun-bronzed hue of his skin, I can see heightened color on his blade-like cheekbones.

He wants me badly—and that knowledge emboldens me to act.

Reaching down, I cup the hard bulge at the crotch of his jeans. “It was nice,” I whisper, looking up at him. “And now it’s your turn.”

His pupils dilate even more, his chest inflating with a deep breath. “Yes.” His voice is thick with lust as he uses his grip on my hair to drag me closer. “Yes, I think it is.” And before I can reconsider the wisdom of my blatant provocation, he lowers his head and captures my mouth with his.

I gasp, my lips parting from surprise, and he immediately takes advantage, deepening the kiss. His hard-looking mouth is surprisingly soft on mine, his lips warm and smooth as his tongue hungrily explores the interior of my mouth. There’s skill and confidence in that kiss; it’s the kiss of a man who knows how to please a woman, how to seduce her with nothing more than the touch of his lips.