The movie premiere 3

More than likely it was going to be sooner.

“All right, maybe I was scared, just a little bit,” she admitted. “It could have been a bear out there, or a patient escaped from a mental institution.”

“At least that would be someone you could identify with,” he said testily, then yelped when she yanked on his ears and pulled his head onto her lap. “Hey, that hurt.”

“Be still and keep quiet.”

He closed his eyes on a grimace, tolerating her ministrations. The light from the chandelier hardened his features, sharpened his tightly held jaw and firm mouth. Bella thought he had the fierce look of an outlaw being led to the gallows.

“How did you get here so fast, anyway? Oh, that’s right,” she said sweetly. “I forgot they called you Flash. I hope that doesn’t extend into all areas of your life?.”

He gave a low growl as he started to sit, but she cupped his face in her hands and forced him to be still. A coarse, day’s growth of beard rasped against her palms and sent currents of electricity up her arms. She felt disgusted with herself. She’d wounded the man, now she wanted to jump his bones.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she did belong in a mental institution. Sighing heavily, she touched her fingers to his temple. “Now lie still and let me look.”

And she did, though not at his head. Her gaze dropped to his bare chest, and though it was hardly the time, it was impossible not to admire his physique, the strong masculine angles of solid muscle, sprinkled with dark, coarse hair. Her hands itched to slide over that broad expanse of sinew and feel the touch of his skin under her fingertips. Her attention dropped lower, to his flat, hard stomach, then lower still, to the unsnapped top of his jeans. Heat flooded through her, and she jerked her gaze away, thankful that Miguel’s eyes were still tightly closed.

The back of his head was nestled across her thighs, his cheek and ear pressed against her stomach. Soft ribbons of heat curled from her waist downward. She willed her hands not to tremble as she lightly skimmed her fingers through his thick hair and over his scalp.

He sucked in a breath when she touched a rising knot on top of his head. “Oops.”

He frowned. “What, oops?”

“Well, the good news is, there’s no blood. The bad news is, you’ll have a bump the size of a Rolls Royce.”

“Gosh, I’m so glad you gave me the good news first,” he mumbled, but the edge of anger that had been in his voice a moment ago was gone now. She felt the tension in his shoulders ease as he relaxed his head on her legs.

Bella knew she should move away. They were both half-naked, lying on the couch with the darkness surrounding them. She in her tank top and boxers, Miguel wearing only a pair of jeans. Her fingers moved restlessly through his hair, though they both knew she’d already found the damage she’d inflicted.

And still she couldn’t stop herself.

Nor did he stop her.

Her fingernails lightly scraped over his scalp, and he relaxed under her touch. She was certain he could hear the heavy beat of her heart.

“Did you see anyone outside?” she asked quietly. “Or anything?”

He shook his head, inadvertently rubbing against her belly. She had to remind herself to breathe.

He still hadn’t opened his eyes, and she took advantage of the opportunity to explore his face. She discovered a small, jagged scar over his left eye and a long, razor-thin scar under his chin. A dark shadow of a beard covered his strong, square jaw. Transfixed, she stared at his mouth, and just the thought of running her fingers over those firm lips made her hand tingle.

This was dangerous, she knew. As dangerous as it was foolish. She should get up, or at least move away.

She didn’t.

“Something was out there.” She did her best to focus on what had frightened her, instead of the sensations washing through her body at the moment. “Or someone. I didn’t imagine it.” the hotel was built like a guest house, each rooms are separated by blocks.

“Well, whoever or whatever it was, is gone now. Unlike the bump on my head,” he reminded her.

“I’ll get some ice.”

She started to rise, but he reached up and circled her wrists with his hands.

“No.”

It was not a request, but a command. He opened his eyes and stared at her. She couldn’t breath. Couldn’t think.

The intensity of his dark gaze excited, yet terrified her at the same time. Her previous fear suddenly seemed like nothing compared to what she was experiencing now. She tried to speak, to laugh this craziness off, but her throat felt like cotton. The tension between them felt like a living, breathing creature, an animal coiled and ready to spring from the darkness.

She was hardly a woman of the world when it came to sex, but she wasn’t a virgin, either, in spite of her Stepmother's’ determination that she remain celibate her entire life. She had been successful deterring her suitors until she’d escaped to college, and by that time she’d been much too curious to delay the experience. She’d chosen her first lover carefully, but with her head instead of her heart, and the relationship was doomed from the start. Bianca always snatched whoever came for Bella.

Not wanting a repeat of that situation, she’d decided not to settle, and had waited for the fireworks she’d heard so much about. And waited and waited.

And now here she was, a regular Fourth-of-July explosion going on inside her, and it was all wrong. He was all wrong.

He brought her hands to his mouth, pressed feather-soft kisses on each palm. Her heart slammed in her chest.

“Miguel,” she gasped as his tongue caressed her wrists. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“It’s not.”