The Unexpected Millionaire

“See? You’re doing it again. I understand the rules, I’m willing to play by them and you’re still talking. You know what? I think it’s all an act. I don’t think you have any real intention of doing anything at all. I think—”

He grabbed her and kissed her. There were no preliminaries, just him wrapping his arms around her as he claimed her mouth with his own. He kissed her deeply, passionately, with no pause for breath or social niceties. He took, sweeping past her lips to stroke her tongue, circling her, claiming her. His possessive acts thrilled her and she freed her arms so she could hang on for the ride.

There was no fear, she thought as her body heated and her muscles lost their ability to support her. However much he threatened, he still held her gently. His hands moved up and down her back, exploring her, touching her, but there was nothing harsh about the contact.

She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. His body supported hers. The combination of hard muscles and warmth thrilled her. She tilted her head and closed her lips around his tongue so she could suck.

He stiffened, then took a step back and stared at her. There was shock, pleasure and need in his eyes—an irresistible combination.

“I don’t scare easily,” she said with a shrug.

He shook his head, then bent down, gathered her in his arms and carried her down the hall.

They moved into a bedroom illuminated by a single lamp on a nightstand. Here the design was totally masculine with large pieces of dark furniture lining the walls. The bed could sleep twenty, and suited Kane completely.

He set her on the mattress and looked at her.

She felt the challenge of his gaze and refused to look away—even when he began unfastening the shirt he wore. When he’d removed that, he pulled off a T-shirt, exposing his bare chest.

Her breath caught. He was as muscled as she’d first thought, but there were also scars…dozens of them. Small irregular circles and long, jagged lines. Scars from surgeries and from wounds that made her ache inside.

What had happened to this man? Who had hurt him and why?

But there was no time for questions. He pulled off his loafers, then his socks. Trousers quickly followed, along with dark briefs.

And then he was naked. Beautiful and hard and ready. His body should be immortalized in marble, she thought. A master should sculpt him. Not that Kane would ever agree to pose.

He put his hands on his hips and stared at her. “You can still run,” he told her.

“Not with my ankle.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He took a step toward the bed, then stopped. “Dammit, Willow,” he began.

She pulled her sweater up and over her head, then tossed it onto the floor. “So what, exactly, does a girl have to do to get your attention?”

He made a sound in his throat that was part growl, part groan. Then he was on the bed, on top of her, rolling with her so that she ended up sprawled across him. He tangled one hand in her hair and claimed her with a kiss that made her toes curl.

She parted for him, welcomed him. Their tongues danced. He stroked her bare back, his fingers moving slowly over her skin. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he slipped his hands over the curve of her rear and squeezed.

She could feel his arousal pressing into his stomach. Her skin was hot and hungry for his touch. She wanted his hands everywhere, touching her, taking her, claiming her.

He shifted so she was on her back. His dark eyes stared into hers.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered before reaching behind her to unfasten her bra.

His words delighted her, but they weren’t nearly as thrilling as his mouth on her bare breast. One moment there was fabric, then a whisper of cool air followed by the warm, wet sensation of lips and tongue.