Chapter 6

• Lucas stood at the rail, broad shoulders straight as an axe blade and rigid with tension until he relocated Layla again. He noted that she was dancing just at the edge of the floor, and he wondered if she planned to join him again. Or was she expecting him to chase after her? Lucas didn’t chase: he had never had to go to that much effort with a woman. Consequently, he should’ve been irritated by her behaviour, but he was not, and he didn’t understand that.
• What was it about her? She had extraordinary eyes, he recalled, as pale and translucent green as a piece of sea glass he had once picked up off a beach as a boy. And just as the sea fascinated him, she did as well. He was down the stairs before he even knew he was planning to retrieve her.
• "Can't," he informed her with a wry look when she studied him expectantly. ‘No sense of rhythm’
• Lucas stood there in front of Layla like a very large statue frozen in place. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked up into his exotically dark eyes, noting the luxuriance of his black lashes. He was gorgeous. Did he really need to dance? A little voice inquired wryly inside her head.
• "Anyone can dance," Layla told him softly.
• He bent his arrogant dark head, his big body still infuriatingly rigid in stance. I don’t do anything that I can’t do superlatively well.’
• Layla grinned at that alpha male excuse and planted her hands on his lean hips. "Move," she urged him, amused against his will by his frozen stance. Feel the beat...’
• The only thing Lucas felt as she tugged him to her to demonstrate that elusive rhythm was the punch of lust that almost left him light-headed as he looked down into her laughing sea-glass eyes. Women didn’t ever laugh at Lucas. They laughed with him. He shifted his lean hips in response to her guidance, but only to take advantage of the opportunity to yank her closer and line up that teasing, tantalizing mouth of hers with his own.
• In the space of a heartbeat, Layla travelled from amusement to another entirely, and it was a shockingly unfamiliar place. She had no experience of passion and suddenly there it was, shamelessly smashing down her defenses and powered solely by the hungry, scorching demand of his mouth. For a split second, she stiffened in shock, and then she turned boneless, liquid heat rolling through her veins. His tongue plundered the semi-closed seam of her lips and she parted them for him, her head falling back on her shoulders as he took immediate advantage. He plundered the moist, tender interior of her mouth with an acute sense of the rhythm he had denied, sending an electrifying shudder of piercing sexual pleasure travelling through her.
• Lucas lifted his head, closed one hand firmly over hers and urged her back up the stairs. Layla blinked like a sleepwalker suddenly forced awake, astonishment rising inside her that a man could actually make her feel like that...all shaky and molten and needy, her nipples tight and aching, warmth and dampness gathering between her thighs. Her own response was a revelation to her. Yes, he did kiss superlatively well, she acknowledged dizzily, and didn’t that make him the perfect man for her sexual experiment? Presumably, if he was that good at kissing, he would be reasonably proficient at the rest of it as well.
• ‘Another drink?’ Lucas proffered the glass and extended the snacks, willing to do just about anything to ensure that he was able to keep his hands off her for long enough to get back in control of his unruly body. Lucas did not like to lose control, but he was still hard and throbbing, almost painfully, with his libido all too eager to continue what he had begun. But haste wasn’t cool, and Lucas was never hasty. He didn’t do one-night stands either, at least not since he was a teenager. But Layla drew him like a bee to a hive of honey.
• Layla clasped the champagne flute gratefully in one hand, astounded to realise that her hand was trembling slightly. But then it wasn’t really Lucas still having that effect on her, she told herself urgently; it was more probably the distinctly daunting knowledge that she had decided that, given the opportunity, she would make love with the man she was with. She glanced uncertainly up at him, her gaze drinking in the height and slant of his cheekbones, the strong angular jut of his classic nose, and the mobile expressiveness of his wide, sculpted mouth. He was absolutely beautiful in the way only a very masculine man could be without the smallest hint of prettiness, although the jury was still out when it came to the ridiculous length of the long, curling black lashes framing his remarkable eyes.
• "Are you single?" she asked a tad abruptly.
• "Yes." Will you spend the night with me?’ Lucas murmured sibilantly, his accent underscoring the syllables with a rasping edge. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I wanted you on that floor.’
• His directness disconcerted Layla, but pleased her as well, because she valued candour. She laughed. "It’s all right. You don’t have to say things like that. I made up my mind to say yes when you kissed me.’
• Layla reasoned nervously, attempting to reassure herself of an unusually spontaneous decision.Here she was far from home and she would never see him again, so there would be no lingering embarrassment, no further meetings, and no lasting connection. She had always believed in calling a spade a spade, and the two of them were both after the same thing: a complication-free hook-up. He was as close to perfect for her purposes as it was possible to get.
• Lucas felt relief gripping him at her immediate agreement shorn of any prevarication. Lucas closed a powerful arm around her narrow waist and gazed down at her with an intense sense of satisfaction and anticipation. Her nose turned up a little at the end and there was a scattering of freckles across the bridge, but he discovered that he found those flaws endearing rather than noticeable deficiencies. ‘It wasn’t flattery.’
• Layla fielded, unconvinced, utterly challenged by the concept that she had sufficient sex appeal to tax the restraint of so sophisticated and good-looking a male. But outside of a serious relationship, sex is only a recreational pursuit.’