The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

strangled laugh rose and died in her throat. It wasn’t as if she’d had numerous partners…only two, each of whom had declared undying devotion while fixing an eye on her father’s wealth.

      ‘I don’t want to be here with you.’

      ‘Perhaps not.’ He waited a beat. ‘Yet.’

      ‘Are you sure there’s enough space in this room for both you and your ego?’

      His husky laugh was almost her undoing. ‘You doubt I can make you want me?’

      ‘It would be a first.’ The words were out before she thought to stop them, and she saw his eyes narrow.

      He was silent for what seemed an age, then he released her. In one fluid movement he reached for the bedcovers, restored them to their former position, then he indicated the bed. ‘Get in.’

      Uncertainty momentarily showed in her features.

      ‘You prefer the bed?’

      ‘It’s more comfortable.’

      Comfort. It beat tumbling to the carpeted floor. Although somehow she doubted Diego was prone to awkward moves.

      ‘To sleep,’ Diego added, watching confusion cloud her eyes.

      ‘Sleep?’ She felt as if she was repeating everything he said.

      His gaze speared hers. ‘For now,’ he qualified evenly. ‘Does that bother you?’

      A stay of execution? She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or peeved. ‘A reprieve? Should I thank you?’

      ‘Don’t push it, querida.’ His voice held the softness of silk, but the warning was pure steel.

      Capitulation would be a wise choice, she perceived, and crossed to her bag, extracted a large cotton T-shirt and pulled it on, then after a moment’s hesitation she joined him in the large bed, settling as far away from him as possible.

      Diego pressed a remote module and doused the lights, and Cassandra felt her body tense in the darkness as she waited for the moment he might reach for her.

      Except he didn’t, and she lay still, aware of the moment his breathing slowed to a steady pace.

      Dammit, he was asleep! As easily and quickly as that, he’d been able to relax sufficiently to sleep.

      Leaving her to lie awake to seethe in silence. The temptation to fist her hand and punch him was paramount! How dared he simply switch off? How could he?

      She still had the imprint of his hands on her body, and her mouth felt slightly swollen from the touch of his.

      Unfulfilled anticipation. Dear heaven, she couldn’t be disappointed, surely?

      Diego del Santo was someone she intensely disliked, hated, she amended. Just because there was an exigent chemistry between them didn’t alter a thing.

      How could she sleep, for heaven’s sake? He was there, his large, powerfully muscled body within touching distance.

      Was it imagination, or could she feel his warmth? Sense the heat of his sex, even in repose?

      It was madness. Insane. She closed her eyes and summoned sleep, only to stifle the groan that rose and died in her throat.

      Her limbs, her whole body seemed stiff, and she’d have given anything to roll over and punch her pillow, then resettle into a more comfortable position. Yet if she moved, she might disturb Diego, and that wasn’t a favoured option.

      Cassandra counted sheep…to no avail. She concentrated on an intricate jewellery design she was working on, visualised the finished item and made a few minor adjustments.

      How long had she been lying in the dark? Ten, twenty minutes? Thirty? How long until the dawn? Four, five hours?

      There was a faint movement, then the room was bathed in soft light, and Diego loomed close, his upper body supported on one elbow.

      ‘Can’t sleep?’ His voice was a husky drawl that curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little.

      Her eyes were large, and far too dark, her features pale.

      ‘I didn’t know you were awake.’ He must sleep like a cat, attuned to the slightest movement, the faintest sound.

      ‘Headache?’

      It would be so easy to acquiesce, but she wasn’t into fabrication. ‘No.’

      He lifted a hand and trailed gentle fingers across her cheek. ‘Waging an inner battle?’

      There was nothing like the witching midnight hour to heighten vulnerability. ‘Yes.’

      His mouth curved into a musing smile. ‘Honesty is a quality so rarely found in women.’

      ‘You obviously haven’t met the right woman.’ Was that her voice? It sounded impossibly husky. Sexy, she amended, slightly shocked, and flinched as his fingers traced a path to her temple and tucked a swathe of hair behind her ear.

      There was a sense of unreality in the conversation. She was conscious of the room, the bed…then the man, only the man became her total focus.

      The pad of his thumb traced her lower lip, depressed its centre, then slid to her chin, holding it fast as he fastened his mouth on hers, coaxing in a prelude to the deliberate seduction of her senses.

      The subtle exploration became an evocative sensual possession that took hold of her inhibitions and dispensed with them…far too easily for her peace of mind.

      She should withdraw and retreat, protest a little. Except his touch held a magic she couldn’t resist, and she groaned as his hands caressed her breasts, shaped the sensitive flesh, then tantalised the burgeoning peaks.

      Heat flooded her veins, filling her body with sensual warmth as she arched against the path of his hand, and he absorbed her soft cry as he caught hold of her T-shirt and tugged it free.

      For several long seconds she bore his silent appraisal, glimpsed the vital, almost electric energy apparent, and knew instinctively that intimacy would surely take place.

      The intention, the driven need was there, clearly evident, and sensation spiralled through her body at the thought of his possession.

      All her skin-cells came achingly alive, acutely sensitive to his touch as he lowered his head over her breast and suckled its tender peak. Then she cried out as he used his teeth to take her to the brink between pain and pleasure.

      Cassandra slid her fingers through his hair and tugged, willing him to cease, only to gasp as he trailed a path to her waist, paused to circle her navel with his tongue before edging slowly towards the apex of her thighs.

      He couldn’t, wouldn’t…surely?

      But he did, with brazen disregard for her plea to desist. The level of intimacy shocked her, and she fought against the skilled stroking, the heat and thrust of his tongue as he sent her high. So high, the acute sensory spiral tore a startled cry from her throat.

      Just as she thought the sensation couldn’t become more intense, it came again, so acutely piercing it arrowed through her body, an all-consuming flame soaring from deep within.

      Dear heaven. The fervent whisper fell from her lips as an irreverent prayer as Diego shifted slightly and trailed his lips over her sensitised flesh to possess her mouth in a kiss that took her deep, so deep she simply gave herself over to it and shared the sensual feast.

      Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind an alarm bell sounded, and she stilled. ‘Protection?’

      ‘Taken care of.’

      Cassandra felt him nudge her thighs apart, the probe of his arousal as he eased into her, and her shocked gasp at his size died in her throat.

      His slick heat magnetised her, and she felt her muscles tense around him, then relax in a rhythm that gradually accepted his length. He stilled, his mouth a persuasive