The Unexpected Millionaire. Susan Mallery

sighed. “That’s a new one. Can you say it again?”

      He backed her up until she was trapped between him and the wall. She felt his body—and his arousal—pressing against her.

      “I want you,” he said in a low growl. “I want you naked and begging and desperate. I want to bury myself inside of you until you forget who you are. But you’re a fool if you take me up on that. This is not a fun trip to the dark side. If you expect anything of me, you will be hurt. I’m going to walk away, Willow. I can walk away now or later. It’s your choice.”

      She saw the truth reflected in his eyes. Once again the sensible part of her brain pointed out that the guest room was the best option. Only Willow had never met anyone like Kane before and she was unlikely to ever again. He claimed to be incredibly tough and maybe he was, but she had a feeling there was more to him than he wanted her to see.

      Walk away? Not possible. Maybe he would hurt her, but maybe he wouldn’t. She was willing to take the risk. She had to. There was something about him that called to her.

      Besides, the guy could make her quiver with just a look.

      “For a man so intent on insisting he doesn’t care, you’re going out of your way to warn me off,” she said. “Maybe you should stop talking and kiss me instead.”

      “Willow.”

      “See? You’re doing it again. I understand the rules, I’m willing to play by them and you’re still talking. You know what? I think it’s all an act. I don’t think you have any real intention of doing anything at all. I think—”

      He grabbed her and kissed her. There were no preliminaries, just him wrapping his arms around her as he claimed her mouth with his own. He kissed her deeply, passionately, with no pause for breath or social niceties. He took, sweeping past her lips to stroke her tongue, circling her, claiming her. His possessive acts thrilled her and she freed her arms so she could hang on for the ride.

      There was no fear, she thought as her body heated and her muscles lost their ability to support her. However much he threatened, he still held her gently. His hands moved up and down her back, exploring her, touching her, but there was nothing harsh about the contact.

      She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. His body supported hers. The combination of hard muscles and warmth thrilled her. She tilted her head and closed her lips around his tongue so she could suck.

      He stiffened, then took a step back and stared at her. There was shock, pleasure and need in his eyes—an irresistible combination.

      “I don’t scare easily,” she said with a shrug.

      He shook his head, then bent down, gathered her in his arms and carried her down the hall.

      They moved into a bedroom illuminated by a single lamp on a nightstand. Here the design was totally masculine with large pieces of dark furniture lining the walls. The bed could sleep twenty, and suited Kane completely.

      He set her on the mattress and looked at her.

      She felt the challenge of his gaze and refused to look away—even when he began unfastening the shirt he wore. When he’d removed that, he pulled off a T-shirt, exposing his bare chest.

      Her breath caught. He was as muscled as she’d first thought, but there were also scars…dozens of them. Small irregular circles and long, jagged lines. Scars from surgeries and from wounds that made her ache inside.

      What had happened to this man? Who had hurt him and why?

      But there was no time for questions. He pulled off his loafers, then his socks. Trousers quickly followed, along with dark briefs.

      And then he was naked. Beautiful and hard and ready. His body should be immortalized in marble, she thought. A master should sculpt him. Not that Kane would ever agree to pose.

      He put his hands on his hips and stared at her. “You can still run,” he told her.

      “Not with my ankle.”

      “You know what I mean.”

      “Yes, I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

      He took a step toward the bed, then stopped. “Dammit, Willow,” he began.

      She pulled her sweater up and over her head, then tossed it onto the floor. “So what, exactly, does a girl have to do to get your attention?”

      He made a sound in his throat that was part growl, part groan. Then he was on the bed, on top of her, rolling with her so that she ended up sprawled across him. He tangled one hand in her hair and claimed her with a kiss that made her toes curl.

      She parted for him, welcomed him. Their tongues danced. He stroked her bare back, his fingers moving slowly over her skin. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he slipped his hands over the curve of her rear and squeezed.

      She could feel his arousal pressing into his stomach. Her skin was hot and hungry for his touch. She wanted his hands everywhere, touching her, taking her, claiming her.

      He shifted so she was on her back. His dark eyes stared into hers.

      “You are so beautiful,” he whispered before reaching behind her to unfasten her bra.

      His words delighted her, but they weren’t nearly as thrilling as his mouth on her bare breast. One moment there was fabric, then a whisper of cool air followed by the warm, wet sensation of lips and tongue.