Did she aim to play him for an easy mark, as her mother had targeted Piers?
The realisation stilled his impetuous need to taste her. Yet he couldn’t draw back. He was trapped by a hunger sharper and more potent than he’d known in years.
That infuriated him even more than the missing money. He burned with it, the fire in his belly white hot with a virulent mix of lust and self-disgust at his weakness.
Keeping one arm around her back, he released her hand and let his fingers drift. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move, her eyes daring him to do his worst. Because she thought herself immune or because she assumed he wouldn’t rise to her challenge?
His fingers brushed her soft, high breast and moulded automatically to that sweet ripeness. The hard nub of her nipple pressed into his palm and arousal seared his groin. A spasm of something like electricity jerked through his body.
For a breath-stealing moment she stood rigid as if about to lambast him for groping. Her eyes widened in shock, then dropped in heavy-lidded invitation. Her lips parted on a silent sigh. A moment later she shifted, melting against him.
‘Tell me to stop and I will.’
He prayed she wouldn’t.
She opened her mouth but no sound emerged.
The weight of her in his palm, the press of her body, the heady sense of promise thickening the air between them, sapped his resolution.
He was ready to take her up on her unspoken invitation. His body was rock hard with a hunger that was all the stronger for being unexpected. Why not take a little something for himself after she’d taken so much from him? Clearly she expected it, wanted it, if the tremors in her pliant body were any indication.
But that smacked of history repeating itself. The little thief would think he kept his brain between his legs, as his father had when he’d run off with her mother, leaving his responsibilities behind.
Jonas couldn’t let Ravenna enjoy the illusion of triumph. He had too much pride.
He was nobody’s gullible mark.
As she’d learn to her cost.
Gently he squeezed her breast, just enough to elicit a delicate shudder in her fine-boned body and a throaty sigh of delight.
The hairs on his arms prickled and his blood rushed south at the sound of her pleasure. But he refused to respond to the urges of his suddenly intemperate body.
‘You like that, do you, Ravenna?’
Slitted now, her eyes had a glazed look that told its own story. She swallowed convulsively, drawing his attention to the slim length of her pale throat. The collar of her dark jacket sat loose, giving her an air of fragility at odds with the pulse of vibrant life he felt as she arched against him.
He’d pull back soon. In a moment. When he’d allowed himself a single taste...
Cinnamon and feminine spice filled his nostrils as he dipped his head, nudging aside her collar and nipping gently at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. She shook in his hold, her hand grasping his between them as if for support.
‘No. Please I—’
Her words cut abruptly as Jonas laved the spot, drawing in the sweet taste of her warm skin.
Too late he realised his error, as he angled his head hungrily for a better taste, pressing kisses up her arching throat, past the throbbing pulse to the neat angle of her jaw.
She was addictive. Scent or taste or the feel of silky soft flesh, or perhaps all three, had Jonas ignoring the voice of reason and losing himself in the moment. In the luxury of caressing Ravenna.
He’d never come across a woman who tempted him so easily.
Her free hand cupped his neck, holding him close, and he pulled her tight against him, enjoying the slide of her body as she bowed back to give him free rein.
He stroked his tongue along the scented skin behind her ear and had to tighten his hold when she slumped against him as if her knees had given way.
She was so responsive, inciting a surge of arousal that swamped all else. Blood roared in his veins, primal instinct taking over. His focus blurred, his mind racing frantically with the practicalities of getting her horizontal as soon as possible.
He nipped lightly at her ear lobe and she turned her head restlessly as if seeking his lips.
Triumph hummed through him as he pressed a kiss to the corner of her lush mouth.
One quick taste then he’d find that preposterous gilded sofa and treat them both to sexual release so intense it would shatter them. Already he was hard as a rock. Carrying her across the room would be torture but he wasn’t letting her go till he’d had his fill. Till they were both limp and the urgent hunger gnawing at his vitals was appeased.
His ears rang with the force of his blood rushing. He ignored it and tilted his head to take her mouth.
Except her eyes were open now and that dreamy expression had faded. Stark horror flared instead in those dark gold depths.
Jonas frowned. She wanted him. He knew it. He felt it with every muscle and sinew as she pressed herself against him. Yet—
The ringing sounded again. This time he realised it came from somewhere outside his head—the front door.
‘Let me go.’ Her voice was so hoarse he read her lips rather than heard her. Jonas blinked, trying to make sense of the abrupt shift in mood.
She pushed against him with both hands. ‘I said, let me go!’ Her gaze slid from his as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. Because he’d made her forget her little game of temptation? Because she’d been the victim of unexpected lust this time instead of the temptress?
Something soured his belly. Memory. Disillusionment. The realisation that despite his vaunted immunity he’d fallen hard and fast for what she offered: hot sex with a gold-digging opportunist.
Just like his father before him.
He released her so quickly she wobbled and he reached out a hand to steady her.
‘Saved by the bell,’ he murmured and watched heat flush her cheeks. Not for the life of him would he let her see how she’d knocked him for six. That was his private shame.
She knocked his hand away, rubbing her palm over the place he’d held her as if to erase his touch. But he wasn’t fooled by her show of antipathy. She’d lost control too. It was that latter truth that cut him to the core, tapping the long-dammed reservoir of fury so it finally broke free.
He watched her spin away from him, her steps uneven as she headed for the foyer. With each step he cursed himself for his weakness. He’d seen what she was. She’d told him. Yet he hadn’t been able to resist her.
‘If that was you being unaffected,’ he drawled, ‘I look forward to seeing what you’re like when you put a little effort into sex.’ He drew a slow breath, watching her stumble to a halt. ‘I was willing to test the waters to see how far you’d go. And I wasn’t disappointed.’
Her shoulders hunched but she didn’t turn around.
For a moment something like sympathy hovered. Jonas had a ridiculous urge to cross the room and pull her close to comfort her.
He shook his head.
What was it about Ravenna Ruggiero that got under his skin despite what she’d done?
Was there a family weakness after all? Something in the Deveson genes that made them putty in the grasping hands of the Ruggiero women?
He gritted his teeth against a howl of fury and, worse, disappointment that now he’d never have her in his arms again. He couldn’t trust himself with her. How sick was that?
He buried the knowledge behind a wall of disdain.
‘Do