More Than A Vow. Michelle Reid

of them beautifully stoic in the face of her mother’s death. Most significantly, sly moves were happening behind the scenes. Roman’s customers were being offered exorbitant discounts if they signed exclusively with Gautier. False promises were being made about the performance of the most recent Gautier product, and dishonest warnings were circulating about Roman’s.

      A fresh rush of hatred had encompassed him a moment ago as he’d looked at a photo of her with her father. Grim anger coiled through him that Melodie had anything to do with the man. He wanted her to be real, not a weapon her father was wielding. Not a willing foot soldier against him.

      And he hated himself for being susceptible to her. He’d fallen for Anton’s lies once and was edging dangerously close to being taken in by Melodie’s. It was intolerable.

      He’d learned all her weak points, though. Her father might have insulated himself very thoroughly, but she was wide-open. All his plans were in motion. With a tap of a key, he had ensured Ingrid would pick up his email insisting she fire Melodie, and with another ensured Melodie would have no home to go back to in Virginia. The rest of the false front she’d built would collapse like a row of dominoes over the next hours and days.

      All while she continued to look at him with those Bambi eyes soft with invitation, a hint of irreverent humor in her smile.

      “How well do you usually know the women you’re attracted to when you first meet them?” Melodie asked, pulling him back to the present moment.

      Touché. He snorted, privately admitting that physical attraction was typically the reason he set out to learn a woman’s name. Ironically, he had learned more about Melodie before he’d kissed her than he’d ever learned about most women he’d slept with.

      Of course, he’d been more attracted to Melodie at first glance than he’d ever been before. He’d only become more intrigued as each minute had passed. And now, despite everything he knew, despite already taking steps to crush her plans, he could barely take his eyes off her breasts, rising and falling in a shaken tremble that was utterly fascinating.

      The basest male in him wanted to kiss her again. Feel her under him. Be inside her and see how high the flames would fan.

      “Do you think I’m not struggling with this, too? I don’t kiss strangers. I don’t...” She offered a helpless palm, averting her face so he only saw a look of confusion and longing in the profile she turned to the water.

      The rest of her was pure temptation, nipples peaking in excitement beneath the tiny red bikini top. Her legs went on forever and his hand itched to find the skin beneath the drape of that oversize, yet completely inadequate, shirt. He was hardening at the thought.

      “I just keep wondering how else you get to know someone except by spending time with them?” Her gaze came back to his, earnest and unsure.

      He shook his head, amazed by how good an actress she was, relieved on some level that she wasn’t genuine because he would have to do some serious soul-searching before involving himself with such a multifaceted yet sincere woman. He wasn’t cut out for relationships with a future. That was why he was careful how and when he fell into the loose ones he did enjoy.

      Fortunately she was a huckster peddling a shell of such relationships, amazing him with her tenacity and smooth attempts to manipulate him, her mouth trembling in a struggle to smile as she offered a hesitant, “Of course, if it’s not a mutual thing, I’ll...”

      She took a few steps closer, gaze drifting to the patio below, lashes lowering and brow pulling together in a wince of rejection.

      He didn’t move. How could she be this good? How could he be feeling like this? He didn’t want anything to do with her, but he wanted to understand why he was this easily taken in so he could guard against such things further down the road.

      “What do you really want from me, Melodie?” he asked in his deadliest tone, willing her to come clean.

      “Just, um... Honestly?” She blinked up at him, practically virginal with her defenseless gaze, her mouth working to find words. “For you to kiss me again,” she said, her voice a thin husk. “To see if...” She licked her lips, leaving an expectant silence.

      “Come and get it, then,” he said gruffly, trying to scoff, telling himself he was only seeing the extent she’d go to in this industrial espionage of hers, letting her demean herself when he had every intention of rejecting her.

      But it didn’t happen that way.

      She absorbed his command with a small flinch, then lifted her chin as though gathering her courage. As she stepped up to him, her hands opened on his rib cage in a feathery tickle that made his entire body jerk in reaction. His nipples hurt, they pulled so tight. She was tall enough that when she lifted on tiptoes, her mouth easily met his.

      She pressed pillowy lips to his. He told himself to shove her back and tell her—

      The rocking of her mouth parted his lips. He caught the first damp taste of her and his tongue shot out instinctively, greedily plunging into her mouth the way he wanted to plunge into her body. He closed his arms around her, pulled her into him with a strength he barely remembered to temper, and slanted his mouth to take full possession of hers.

      She opened to him, arched and pressed into him and moaned capitulation.

      Rational thought evaporated in a groan of craving.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      MELODIE HAD JUST wanted to see, that was all. See if he really did make her feel like this. See if something special existed between them.

      But, oh, things raced out of control quickly. As their lips met and the kiss took hold, she stopped thinking, only vaguely aware that no man had ever run his hands over her skin like this. Such strong hands. Such an amazing feeling to be petted and shaped, firm fingers digging in as he pinned her tightly to his naked chest, then explored her with a touch like velvet.

      Her body’s reaction was a study in biology, skin growing so sensitive his touch was almost abrasive, yet inciting at the same time. She could feel the scrape of his chest hair through the light shirt she wore, could feel the burn of his body heat, and even though she could barely stand the conflagration, she wanted to be closer and closer still. Her arms went around his neck so she was belly to belly with him, loins to—

      He was hard.

      His hands cupped her buttocks and his teeth closed on her nape, making her bones turn to sand while she rubbed instinctively against that hard ridge. Something deeper than desire, a craven need, punched like a blow right there, where she felt him against her most private flesh. The ache was hurtful and demanding. Nothing like she had ever felt. Never had sensations overwhelmed her like this. It was stunning, absorbing, erasing all thoughts except primal want. Please. More. Now.

      Her fingers went into his hair. She was pure reflex, wanting his mouth over hers, wanting to open and give and take.

      He smothered her with his passionate, hungry kiss, hands smoothing up the contracting muscles in her belly to cup her breasts, making her sob with relief at the pressure of his touch on those tender, aching orbs. The cups of the bathing suit went askew and then he had her bare breasts in his palms, massaging, fondling, rubbing at her nipples so streaks of white-hot arousal shot straight into her loins.

      She whimpered, seeking pressure where desire was pooling like thick lava. She didn’t know how to tell him, only knew that his skin was as taut as a drum under her searching hands, his tongue erotic as he played with hers. A distant part of her wondered how this was happening, but another part didn’t care, only wanted him to keep touching her, keep playing with her nipples, keep stirring and stimulating her.

      His hand went to her hip and eased the bathing suit down. He stepped back to look as the bottoms dropped around her ankles. Watching his own hand, he slid his touch to the front of her thigh, up to her belly, then down, fingers combing, pressing—

      “Oh!”