The Heiress Bride. Laurey Bright

but for the decidedly womanly curve of her hip, and the glimpse of a cleavage afforded by the skimpy top she wore.

      Her expression was absorbed, the jade-green eyes half hidden by long lashes, her lips innocent of makeup and slightly parted. He watched her tongue briefly touch the upper one as she turned a page, and his body tightened and stirred.

      He remembered the taste of her mouth, remembered how despite her maddening refusal to allow her rigidly held body to accept his embrace, that mouth, which had mocked and defied and flicked him on the raw, felt soft and sweet and incredibly seductive. A contradiction.

      Looking at her body now, Chase’s mouth curved in self-mockery. He could have sworn that when he first kissed her she’d almost opened up to him, at least physically, and then she’d stalked off without a word. Banged down the shutters in his face. And, but for an occasional brief, unwitting chink, she’d kept them down ever since.

      If she thought he’d back off she could think again. She’d thrown out a challenge and he’d never refused one in his life. One day he’d make her acknowledge that this unsettling desire to touch, to explore, to know, wasn’t all on his side.

      She might the boss’s daughter, heiress to Kingsley’s little kingdom, but she’d learn that sex was the great leveler. When it came down to it, a naked princess was like any other woman without her clothes.

      Alysia turned another page. A shadow fell across it and Chase’s deep voice said, “Hi, there.”

      “Chase!” At first she couldn’t see him properly against the sun as she scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing here?”