One Wild Wedding Night_ Runaway - Leslie Kelly [5]
“What?” she murmured, shaking her head to clear it even as she blinked once, then again, trying to figure out if she was awake or not. Because if this wasn’t a dream, then she really was half lying across the lap of an incredibly sexy man eyeing her with speculation and visible hunger.
He appeared tall, broad in the shoulders, with thick arms that flexed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his pristine white dress shirt. His light brown hair had streaks of gold that caught the low amber light in the car, reflecting it back in a series of dazzling glints. Those intense eyes, locked solidly on her, were a vivid green, widely spaced and heavily lashed. Seeing everything. Revealing nothing.
Sporting a light five o’clock shadow, his square jaw was slightly swarthy, but perfectly matched his tousled hair, loosened tie and open collar. And the cords of muscle in his neck hinted at the power of the rest of his body, made so obvious by the firm thighs beneath her.
He was utter male perfection. A man right off a movie screen or a magazine page…masculine, devastatingly handsome, overpoweringly male.
And she had absolutely no idea who he was.
A dream. Just a dream. But I don’t really want to wake up. “Well? Are you going to name a price?”
Those words convinced Leah she was not dreaming. Jerking straight up and scrambling off his lap to her own seat, she stared at him. Her jaw hung open, her heart pounding so loud he could probably hear it.
“I never do this, but your ploy worked. I’m hooked.” The man straightened in his seat. Dropping his elbows onto his knees, he leaned forward—close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and inhale the most deliciously masculine scent she’d ever experienced.
“I want you,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering.
Leah continued to stare, too shocked to even think right. Her pulse beat wildly in her throat, she could feel it, and her audible breath provided the only sound in the otherwise silent car. The car. Whose car? “Where are we? Whose car is this?”
Where was Bridget? “Come on, you don’t have to pretend. Your plan worked—you climbed in here and waited for me, laying yourself out like an irresistible appetizer on a banquet table.” He almost growled as he added, “And it worked. You’ve aroused my…appetite.”
Leah gulped. The man was devouring her with his eyes. As if knowing he was looking at her like a wolf eyeing a sheep, he glanced away. “You looked so peaceful in your sleep that I told my driver to cruise around for a while.” He smiled, his teeth glittering in the semidarkness. “While I figured out what to do with you.”
Do with her? His tone said he wanted to do everything with her. While she should have immediately panicked, wondered if he was a serial killer who wanted to do crazy, psycho things to her, she knew what he really meant.
He wanted to have sex with her. Wild, uncontrolled, body-rocking sex. And he thought that was what she was offering by stowing away in his car.
Everything suddenly made sense. She’d been so focused on getting out of the cold that she’d assumed this limo was the correct one. What were the chances of two black stretches being parked outside a raucous club on a dark, snowy night? Though she’d sensed something was wrong at first, her fatigue and the drinks hadn’t let her think too much about it.
“Uh, listen…” she began to explain, not even sure what she was going to say. Then, suddenly, his original question returned to mind, bringing with it new implications as she reevaluated the situation. “How much?”
He thought she was a prostitute?
“How much do you want for the night?” he murmured. He reached for her, lifting a hand to her hair and pushing it back, the tips of his fingers brushing against the pulse in her temple. Leah shivered a little, though not from cold. She was suddenly hot…absolutely on fire. Though she got naked in front of men every night of the week, it had been months since one had touched her intimately. Seductively. Wickedly.
“The