LITMIR.BIZ

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it? How come she wanted to tease this darkly impressive individual and for him to tease her back? She found herself wanting to stroke her finger over the curving lines of his sensual mouth, and...and...

      And she had to stop this.

      Because this was dangerous. More than dangerous. Tamsyn’s heart clenched with something which felt uncomfortably close to vulnerability, and that scared the hell out of her. ‘I have to go,’ she said.

      ‘Not yet.’ He laid his hand on her arm. ‘I get the distinct feeling that I really need to change your impression of me.’

      Chin lifting, she offered him a belligerent gaze. ‘And why would you want to do that?’

      ‘Call it a peace-making move in honour of your sister’s wedding, if you like. Just a little light-hearted fun, that’s all. And the dancing has only just started,’ he observed. ‘You can’t possibly leave until you’ve had at least one dance.’

      ‘I didn’t think it was obligatory. I wasn’t planning on dancing with anyone.’

      An arrogant smile touched the edges of his lips. ‘Not even with me?’

      ‘Especially not with you.’

      ‘Oh? And why not, agape mou? Don’t you like dancing?’

      His voice had deepened and the throwaway endearment in his native tongue made him even more irresistible. Tamsyn stared into his dark blue eyes. When she was younger she had thrown herself around a dance floor with the rest of them, swaying beneath the flash of lights, to the DJ’s heavy beat. She had shaken her arms in the air and tossed her curls while her skin had glowed and grown hot. But she’d never been asked to dance by a devastatingly handsome man in a fancy ballroom, while wearing a silken dress which pooled around her ankles.

      ‘Because it’s a bad idea,’ she prevaricated.

      ‘Stop fighting it, Tamsyn. You know you want to dance with me,’ he said with silky perception, his hand moving to the small of her back as he propelled her gently towards the dance floor.

      Even then she might have stopped him had Tamsyn not glanced up at the dais and seen the newly married Sheikh looking down on them, with what looked like bemusement in his eyes. Was he surprised she was planning to dance with such an honoured guest as his rich pal? She knew Kulal didn’t like her, just as she didn’t like him. In fact, they’d had an almighty row before the wedding when he’d turned up on her sister’s doorstep. But you had to let bygones be bygones, especially now that he was her new brother-in-law.

      So why not show the Sheikh she could behave with dignity—and prove to herself that she wasn’t a total social misfit? Why shouldn’t she dance with the best-looking man in the room? With a resolute nod of her head, she allowed Xan to lead her onto the ballroom, pleased there were enough people to ensure they could just blend into the crowd. Just one dance, she told herself. One dance to fulfil her obligations and she could be off.

      But life never quite conformed the way you wanted it to. One dance became two, which then somehow morphed into three, and each dance seemed to propel them closer, so that their bodies felt as if they were glued together. And Xan wasn’t saying anything. Well, neither was she, come to think of it. Tamsyn blamed the loudness of the lilting music but the truth was that she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to say other than something wholly inappropriate.

      Like: I love the way you make me feel when you tighten your arms around my waist like that. Or, could you possibly press yourself a little closer?

      Did he realise that, or did she somehow silently communicate her wishes to him? Because surely there must have been a reason—some defining moment—when Xan Constantinides thought it was perfectly acceptable for him to run his fingertips down her back in a way which even to her inexperienced self, spoke of careless intimacy. For several minutes, she let him do just that and she couldn’t deny how good it felt. She began to shiver each time he made the tantalisingly slow journey from the top of her neck to the base of her spine. Her heart was hammering and the rush of heat to her face echoed the molten heat which was clenching at her sex. Yet far from being disturbed by the sultry desire she was experiencing Tamsyn was aware of an intense feeling of relief. Briefly she closed her eyes as she dipped her forehead to rest on his shoulder as she felt the squirm of excitement. So she wasn’t frigid, after all. She could feel the things other women felt. Sweet heaven—could she feel them! It was as if someone had just flicked a switch and brought her body to life, so that every sinew and fibre was thrilling with the potent power of his proximity.

      She heard him murmur something in her ear, it’s meaning a mystery because it was said in Greek. But then he pushed one thigh hard against hers, as if urging her legs apart and she found her super-susceptible body obeying his silent command. Her knees widened and a sudden thrill of pleasure shot through her as she felt the pressure of his hard thigh pushing against the softness of hers. Her breasts were thrusting insistently at his chest and her knees had become all wobbly and weak. She could feel the rub of her panties over a sudden honeyed slickness and felt an insistent yearning to have him touch her there...to whisper his finger over her most intimate place. To ease that escalating ache which was making her want to squirm with frustration. She swallowed, trying to ignore the heat which was flaring in her cheek—and that was when alarm bells started ringing. What was she doing? After years of being purer than the driven snow, was she really planning to make a slutty spectacle of herself on the dance floor—just because some super-smooth man was pressing all the right buttons?

      Removing her hands from his shoulders she flattened her palms against his chest, trying not to be distracted by the hard wall of muscle as she stared up into his face. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.

      He didn’t look the slightest bit bothered by her furious accusation as he lifted his broad shoulders in a careless shrug. ‘I should have thought that was perfectly obvious.’

      ‘So suddenly you’re all over me, having ignored me all the way through dinner last night?’ she accused.

      ‘You were so combative that you deserved to be ignored,’ he said softly. ‘But I thought we’d agreed on a truce tonight?’

      ‘Does...?’ She swallowed, willing the erratic hammering of her pulse to subside. ‘Does a truce involve you coming on to me like that, in such a public way?’

      ‘Oh, come on, Tamsyn. Let’s not be hypocritical about what just happened. I thought you were enjoying yourself.’ He flickered her a slow smile. ‘I know I certainly was. And most people are too busy dancing to notice how close we were getting.’

      Tamsyn shook her head, aware of the swing of heavy diamond earrings against her neck and nervously she touched the sleepers to check the precious jewels were secure. Which they were—unlike her. She was one seething mass of insecurity. And fear. She mustn’t discount the dominant emotion which was making her feel so scared. She felt as if she’d just stepped onto a sturdy wooden floor and it was about to give way beneath her. As if Xan Constantinides had the ability to waken something inside her—something which had been sleeping all these years. Suddenly the defiant persona she had perfected to protect herself from the kind of life her mother had lived, was in danger of crumbling before her eyes. Suddenly she was terrified of just how exposed he was making her feel. As if she was nothing but a bunch of sensitised nerve-endings which were jangling with hungry need. She shook her head again.

      ‘Look, I can’t do this,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry. Enjoy the rest of the party but I’m going to bed. It’s going to be a long flight tomorrow and I have a double shift on Monday. Nice meeting you, Xan,’ she said, and without another word she began to walk off the dance floor, aware of people turning to look at her as she hurriedly brushed past them.

      Xan watched her go, caught in a rare moment of indecision, his eyes drawn to the bright shimmer of curls which cascaded like flames down her back. The voice of reason was urging him to let her go, because she was trouble. Anyone could see that. All mixed up and not his type. But the hunger of his body was more powerful than reason and he’d never had a woman

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