Genuine Lies

times. Instead, he let her doze through the ride.
    By the time he pulled up in front of the guest house, she was sound asleep. With a little sigh, Paul took out a cigar and sat smoking, and watching her.
    Julia Summers was a challenge. Hell, she was a paradox. There was nothing Paul liked better than tugging on the threads of a mystery. He’d intended to get close to her, to make certain Eve’s best interests were protected. But … He smiled as he pitched the cigar out of the window. But there was no law that said he couldn’t enjoy the proximity while he was at it.
    He brushed a hand over her hair, and she murmured. He traced a fingertip down her cheek, and she sighed.
    Thrown off by the stirring in his gut, he pulled back, tried to think it through. Then, as had been his habit most of his life, he did what he wanted to do. He covered her mouth with his as she slept.
    Soft and lax in sleep, her lips yielded beneath his, slipped apart as he traced their shape with his tongue. Now he tasted her sigh as well as heard it. The punch of sensation slapped into his system, leaving him straining for more. His hands itched to touch, to take, but he curled them into fists and contented himself with her mouth.
    There were some rules that weren’t meant to be broken.
    She was dreaming, a glorious, heavenly dream. Floating down a long, quiet river. Drifting with the current, dozing on cool blue water. The sun rained down on her in golden streams, warm, healing, compassionate.
    Her mind, hazy with fatigue and wine, gave only minimal effort to clearing the mists. It was much too comfortable in dreams.
    But the sun heated, the current quickened. Excitement bounced like tiny red-tipped sparks along her skin.
    Her mouth moved under his, then parted on a groan so that he was invited in. Without hesitation he slid his tongue over hers and was driven half mad by her lazily seductive response. With a quiet oath he nipped her bottom lip. Julia shot awake, stunned and stirred.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She pushed herself back in the seat and shoved at him in one indignant move. When the heel of her hand connected with his breastbone, he realized how much stronger she was than she appeared to be.
    “Satisfying my curiosity. And getting us both in trouble.”
    She snatched the purse off her lap but managed not to smash it into his face. Words were better. “I had no idea you were so desperate, or so lacking in conscience. Forcing yourself on a woman while she sleeps takes a special kind of perversion.”
    His eyes narrowed, flashed, and darkened. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively mild. “It was a long way from force, but you may have a point.” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he hauled her against him. “But you’re awake now.”
    This time his mouth wasn’t soft or seducing, but hot and hard. She could taste the anger, the frustration. And desire shot like a bullet through her.
    She needed. She’d forgotten what it was like to really need. To thirst for a man the way one thirsted for water. Her defenses in shambles, she was assaulted by sensations, longings, desires. The barrage left her weak enough to cling to him, hungry enough to plunge greedily into the kiss and take.
    Her arms were around him, binding them together like rope. Her mouth—God, her mouth was urgent and frantic and hot. He could feel the quick, helpless tremors that coursed down her body, hear her shuddering breaths. He forgot to be angry, and frustration was ripped apart by edgy blades of passion. That left only desire.
    His fingers dived into her hair, curled tight. He wanted her here, in the front seat of the car. She made him feel like a teenager fumbling for skill, like a stallion quivering to mate.And like a man rushing headlong over the verge of safety into the unknown.
    “Inside.” He could hear his own blood pump as his mouth raced over her face. “Let me take you inside. To bed.”
    When his teeth scraped lightly down her throat she nearly cried out with need. But she struggled back. Responsibility. Order. Caution. “No.” She called out years of restraint, spiced with painful memories, and resisted. “This isn’t what I want.”
    When he cupped her face in his hands, he realized he, too, was trembling. “You lie very poorly, Julia.”
    She had to regain control. Her fingers closed around her purse like wires as she stared at him. He looked dangerous in the moonlight. Compelling, reckless.