LITMIR.BIZ

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waved to Cam and Violet on their way past, shouting over the music, ‘Come and join us!’

      Violet looked up at Cam, who looked like he was suffering from indigestion. She stepped up on tiptoe and cupped her hand around his ear. ‘Are you going to ask me to dance? Because, if so, let me spare you the embarrassment of being rejected.’

      ‘You call that dancing?’

      A smile tugged at her mouth and she stepped up to his ear again. ‘You ever get the feeling you were born into the wrong century? Give me a traditional Gay Gordon dance any day.’

      He drew her closer in a quick squeeze hug that made her breath hitch. ‘I feel about a hundred and fifty in here.’

      ‘Age or temperature?’

      He gave a crooked smile and took out his handkerchief—why did classy men always have one?—and gently blotted the beads of perspiration that had gathered on her forehead. Violet couldn’t tear her eyes away from the deep steady focus of his. What was he thinking behind the screen of his gaze? His eyes dipped to her mouth, his lashes going to half-mast, giving him a sexily hooded look that made her belly quiver like someone bumping into an unset bowl of jelly. She moistened her mouth...not because it was dry but because she liked seeing him watch her do so. He moved closer, his thighs strong and muscular, so very male against her trembling legs. She felt the ridge of his arousal. It should have shocked her, would’ve shocked her, if it had been anyone else.

      But it was Cam.

      Who desired her even though he didn’t want to. It was a force they were both fighting...for different reasons. Violet didn’t want to waste time in a relationship going nowhere even if it was with the most desirable man she had ever met. Cam wasn’t interested in finding a life partner. He didn’t want to be tied down to family life. Understandable, given the atrocious example his parents had set. But Violet couldn’t help wondering if deep down he was less concerned about his loss of freedom and more concerned about not being the sort of husband and father he most aspired to be. He was a perfectionist. Doing a good job wasn’t enough for someone like Cam. If he put his mind and energy to something he did it brilliantly. That was why he was one of the most celebrated naval architects in the world.

      ‘Let’s go someplace else,’ Cam said against her ear.

      Had he suggested leaving because he knew she was uncomfortable in that environment? Violet couldn’t help but be touched by his concern. ‘But what about Nick and—?’

      ‘They’ll survive without us.’ He took her hand and led her out of the nightclub. ‘I’ll send Nick a text to say we had to leave. He’ll think I want to whip you away somewhere private.’

      Please do! Violet followed him out of the nightclub to the wet and cold street outside. Within a few minutes they were in the warm cocoon of his car. But instead of driving her back to her flat he turned in the direction of his house in Belgravia. She hadn’t been there before...although she’d walked past. Purely to satisfy her feminine interest, of course. During the drive he’d suggested a nightcap, which could have been code for something else but she took it at face value. Besides, going back to her flat, which would be empty now because both Amy and Stef had steady boyfriends and spent most weekends at their homes, was not the most exciting prospect.

      Violet had to pretend to be surprised by the outside of the house when he pulled up in front of it. ‘Is this your place? Wow! It’s gorgeous. How long have you had it? It looks massive.’

      ‘I bought it a year or so ago.’ He led her up the black and white tiled pathway to the front door. ‘I’ve done most of the renovations myself.’

      Violet knew he was good with his hands; she had the humming body to prove it. But she hadn’t realised he was a handyman of this sort of standard. The house was amazing. A showcase similar to those you would see in a home and lifestyle magazine. It was a three storey high Georgian mansion with beautiful features throughout. Crystal chandeliers tinkled above when Cam closed the door against the wintry breeze. The plush Persian carpet runner that led the way down the wide hallway threatened to swallow Violet’s feet whole. The antique furniture made her mouth water. Some girls loved fashion and jewellery but anything old and precious did it for her. There were priceless works of art on the walls in gilt-edged frames. Sculptures on marble stands, a white orchid in full bloom on another softening the overall effect.

      Cam led her through to a sitting room with a fireplace with a stunning black marble surround with brass trim. Twin cream sofas, deep as a cloud, sat opposite each other with a mahogany coffee table in between. A Louis XV chair was featured in one corner next to a small cedar writing desk next to a full bookcase. It looked like the perfect room for curling up with a book...or cuddling up with the one you loved.

      Stop it. You’re letting it go to your head.

      Violet realised then with a little jolt that this was the first time they had been completely alone. At Drummond Brae there had always been members of her family about the place, if not in the same room. She had never truly been alone with Cam without the threat of interruption.

      Violet turned from taking in all of the room to find him looking at her with an unreadable expression. The air seemed to tighten and then to crackle as if an invisible current was being transmitted through their gazes. She could feel her body responding to the magnetic presence of his. She was half a room away but it felt like a force was drawing her to him, a force she could not control even if she wanted to. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked, barely recognising the breathy voice as coming from her.

      ‘How am I looking at you?’

      ‘As if you don’t want me to know what you’re thinking.’

      His mouth lifted in a wry smile that tugged on something deep inside her. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know what I’m thinking.’

      ‘Try me.’ Did you just say that? Isn’t that flirting? That thing you never do?

      He closed the distance in a couple of strides, standing close enough for her to feel the potent energy of his body calling out to hers. ‘This is all sorts of crazy.’ He didn’t touch her. He just stood there looking down at her with that inscrutable expression on his face.

      Violet disguised a tiny swallow. ‘What is?’

      She heard him draw in a breath, it sounded as if it caught on something on the way through. He lifted his hand, brushing the backs of his bent fingers down the slope of her cheek. ‘Being alone with you. It’s...ill-advised.’

      Ill-advised? Violet wondered what other word he’d considered using. Dangerous? Tempting? Inevitable? All three seemed to apply. She looked at his mouth, knowing it was a signal for him to kiss her. Knowing it and doing it anyway. It was what she wanted. It was what he wanted. She might not be very experienced but she could tell when a man wanted to kiss a woman.

      She lowered her lashes over her eyes, swaying towards him. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. She placed her hands on the wall of his chest. The feel of his firm male form beneath her palms sent a thrill through her body. It was like being plugged into a power source. She felt the sensual voltage from her palms to the balls of her feet...and other places. Places she mostly ignored, but not now. Her feminine core responded to his closeness with a tight, clenching ache. His head came down, his mouth hovering within a breath of hers as if some fraying thread of self-control was only just keeping him in check.

      Violet took matters into her own hands...or mouth, so to speak. She closed the minuscule distance by placing her lips to his, her heart kicking in excitement when he made a low, deep groaning sound before he took charge of the kiss. His lips were firmer than the last time, not rough but with an undercurrent of desperation as if the self-control he had always relied on had finally let him down. She felt it in the way his tongue came in ruthless search of hers, tangling with it in an erotic dance that made her skin pop all over with goose bumps. The spread of his fingers through her hair made every nerve on her scalp tingle at the roots, his mouth continuing its sensual teasing until she was mindless with longing. His stubble grazed her cheek and then her chin but she didn’t care. This was what

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