applied pressure to a piece of cotton wool over the wound for a long moment, and looked at him warily. Colour had come back into his cheeks and his eyes were now glittering into hers.
He arched an incredulous brow. ‘Knitting?’
She smiled weakly. ‘It’s a hobby. Something I took up to pass the time backstage at the shows.’
‘Reading would have been too boring, I take it?’ His tone was as dry as toast.
She smiled again. ‘And smash the stereotype that all models are thick?’
A glint of humour passed between them, and suddenly Kate became very aware of the fact that Tiarnan was lounging back, lean hips resting on the table, shirt open, impressive chest bare. In a surge of awareness, now that the panic was gone, she unthinkingly applied more pressure, making Tiarnan wince.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, lifting the cotton wool to check if the bleeding had stopped. To her relief it had, and it didn’t look as if the needle had gone too deep. But now all she could think about was the fact that she was right between his splayed legs. The material of his trousers was pulled taut over firmly muscled thighs. His belt buckle glinted and a line of dark silken hair led upwards over a hard flat belly, like an enticement to his chest, which was covered with more dark hair. She had a sudden burning desire to know what it would be like to have her bare breasts pressed against his chest …
She grew hot again as she busied herself cleaning the wound and getting a plaster to hold it in place. Her hands didn’t feel steady, and she prayed that Tiarnan wasn’t noticing her meltdown.
What Tiarnan was noticing was the tantalising display of her breasts, just visible as she moved, in the vee of her shirt. From what he could see she wore a plain white bra, and her breasts looked soft and voluptuous. Perfectly shaped. He could remember how they’d felt, crushed against his chest. Her soft, evocative scent wafted up from her body as she moved. Her legs looked impossibly long in the faded jeans. He shifted on the table as she bent down and unwittingly came closer to where he was starting to ache unmercifully. The pain of where the needle had lanced him faded in comparison. The incongruity of finding that she’d been knitting in the first place—not a hobby that he associated with a woman like her—had faded too, in the heat of his arousal.
If she looked down … He gritted his teeth, trying to control his body, a muscle throbbing in his jaw as her soft small hands worked. Her hair slid over her shoulder then, and whispered against his belly. Everything in him tightened, and he couldn’t help a groan. Immediately Kate looked up with wide, innocent eyes, inflaming him even more.
‘Did I hurt you?’ He shook his head. She was finished putting on the plaster. He could hear the tremor in her voice when she said, ‘There—all done.’
He reached out and held her elbows, dragging her imperceptibly closer, and closed his legs around hers slightly. He could see her widening eyes, pupils enlarging, and it had a direct effect on his arousal levels. She was tantalisingly close to where his erection strained against his trousers. But not close enough.
His voice felt as if it was being dragged over gravel. ‘Not all done yet … I think you should kiss it better.’
Kate’s insides seemed to be melting and combusting all at once. She was unable to look away from Tiarnan’s gaze. It held her like a magnet. Time stood still around them. She was so close now. One little tiny step and she’d be right there, captive between his legs, and she would be able to feel … She had to stop this madness. She had to remember that he’d deliberately set out to get her to Madrid to seduce her—had to remember her vow to be strong, resolute. She couldn’t let this happen. She struggled to swallow.
‘Tiarnan, you’re not four years old …’ Her voice sounded pathetically weak and feeble.
‘You stabbed me with your knitting needle,’ he growled. ‘The least you can do is kiss me better.’
What they were saying should have had a thread of easy humour. But humour was long gone. This was deadly serious.
Kate’s heart was pumping so fast now she felt sure he would be able to hear it. His hands on her elbows were strong, rigid. He wasn’t going to let her go, and she didn’t even know if she would have the strength to step away without falling down. This was the most erotically charged moment she could ever remember experiencing. Her throat was as dry as sandpaper.
‘One kiss and then you’ll let me go?’
Without taking his eyes from hers, he nodded.
Kate pulled away slightly and Tiarnan let go—cautiously. He leant back a little farther and rested his hands behind him on the table. It made him appear vulnerable and even more sexy, his torso long and lean, shoulders broad. Kate looked down at where the wound was. She put her hands behind her back, as if she couldn’t trust herself not to run her fingers over the ridges of muscles that rippled over his belly. She felt weak inside—hot and achy.
She bent down over his chest, and down further, her mouth hovering over where the plaster was. His skin was dark olive, taut and gleaming, begging to be touched, kissed. She imagined it to be hot to the touch, and pressed her mouth just above the plaster. Without having consciously intended it, her mouth was slightly open. She could feel and hear his indrawn breath. Acting on pure instinct, Kate darted her tongue-tip out for the tiniest moment. His skin was warm, and slightly salty on her tongue. Lust coiled through her like a live flame. She could smell the musk of arousal and didn’t know if it was hers or his. She wanted with a desperate urgency to explore further, to press herself close and feel if he was aroused …
With every atom of strength Kate possessed, she managed to straighten up and look Tiarnan in the eye. Her hands were still clenched tight behind her back. She felt feverish. His eyes burned into hers, and suddenly Tiarnan’s hands gripped her upper arms and he pulled her right into him. Caught off balance, she fell forward. He caught her full weight, and her hands came out automatically to splay across his chest. Desire flooded her belly and between her legs with traitorous urgency.
‘Your wound …’ she gasped.
‘Will be fine.’
She was desperate now. As desperate for him to keep holding her as she was to get away—and that killed her. ‘You said one kiss.’
He looked at her for a long moment. Kate felt her breasts crushed to his chest and, worse, felt his arousal hard against the apex of her legs. She was right in the cradle of his lap, unable to save herself from falling headlong into the fire. Her whole body was crying out to mould into his, to allow it to go up in flames.
She repeated herself, as if that might change the direction things had been taking since he’d walked up to her on that stage in San Francisco.
‘You said one kiss.’
Tiarnan snaked one arm around her back, pulling her in even tighter. The other went to the back of her head. She was his captive, and she couldn’t move even if she wanted to.
‘I lied.’
CHAPTER FOUR
TIARNAN’S mouth came down onto Kate’s with all the devastation of a match being put to a dry piece of tinder. Ten years of build-up exploded inside her. Her hands curled into his chest and he pulled her so close to his body that all she could feel was rock-hard muscle and his arousal. Kate could feel moisture gather between her legs and she moved unconsciously, as if she could assuage the need building there.
With a move she wasn’t even aware of Tiarnan shifted them, so that Kate was now sitting on the table and he was leaning over her. Eyes closed, Kate could only feel and experience, and give herself up to the onslaught on her senses. Tiarnan’s hands were in her hair, around her face. His mouth was relentless, not breaking contact, his tongue stabbing deep—and she was as insatiable as he.
Her arms wound up around his neck, clinging, hands tangling in his short silky hair. She finally broke her mouth away for a brief moment, sucking in harsh breaths. Her heart hammered as she felt Tiarnan’s