Taming Clint Westmoreland - Brenda Jackson [40]
It was late and chances were he was in bed asleep by now. At least she hoped so. She opened her bedroom door and, as expected, the entire house was quiet. She appreciated the night-lights that lined the hallway as she made her way from her wing toward the one where Clint’s office was located. As far as she knew, they were the only ones living in the main house. Chester lived a few miles away in a house on land Sid Roberts had willed to him.
Alyssa slowly opened the office door and found the room empty. She quickly moved across the room to Clint’s desk. Kim’s words had put her on edge. She was still fuming while waiting for the computer to boot up.
She turned when a knock sounded on the door. She went still when Clint walked in. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it.
Alyssa tried not to let her focus linger on his dark eyes, but when she moved her gaze to his strong jawline and kissable lips she realized she was in trouble looking there, too. She returned her gaze to his.
“I thought you were asleep,” she said when she finally found her voice.
A smile touched the corners of his lips. “As you can see I’m very much awake.”
Yes, she could definitely see that. She could also see in his nonchalant stance against the door just how perfectly his jeans fit his body, and with his chambray shirt open past the throat, she got a glimpse of his hairy, muscular chest. But what really caught her attention was the area below the belt. Not only was Clint very much awake, he was very much aroused, as well.
The thought that he wanted her was enough of a reason for her heart to pound and her pulse to drum. If that wasn’t bad enough, her lips began tingling from remembered kisses. She already had a number of them tucked away in her memory bank.
She swallowed deeply as desire began to thrum through her and felt her body automatically respond to his. “Is there a reason why you’re here?” she asked, hearing the slight quiver in her voice.
“Yes,” he said in an arrogant tone as he moved away from the door and slowly strolled toward her.
From the glow of light off the computer screen she was conscious of every single thing about him, including the dark pupils in his eyes and the faint growth of stubble on his chin.
When he reached the edge of the desk he placed his hands palms down as he leaned closer and brought his face mere inches from hers.
“Tonight,” he whispered against her lips, “I want to teach you another version of Playing with Fire.”
Alyssa slowly backed away. She then tilted her head and looked up at him. “You agreed,” she reminded him in an accusing voice, one she could barely force past her lips.
“I agreed not to seduce you into my bed, Alyssa,” he said. He momentarily released her gaze to glance around the room. “There’s not one bed in here,” he said.
She tilted her head a half inch higher. “You don’t need a bed to do what you want to do. You’ve said so yourself,” she said defiantly.
He smiled. “Yes, I did say that and it’s true,” he said in a husky voice. “To make love to you I don’t need a bed. But you’ll have to be willing, Alyssa. I would never force myself on you.”
She believed him. But she also knew it wouldn’t take much coercing on his part right now. He had become her weakness.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. Come play with me,” he said throatily. “Trust me,” he added as he offered her his hand.
The look in his eyes stirred her in a way she would not have thought possible and without realizing she was doing so, she began leaning toward him. And when she reached out and placed her hand in his, she knew she had literally sealed her fate.
Clint Westmoreland was demanding more of her than she had ever shared with any man. She was taking a risk, opening her heart up in a way she had never done with Kevin. And as she continued to gaze into the turbulent darkness of his eyes she suddenly knew why. Not only