Except every muscle in her arm tensed beneath his fingers and her gaze bounced off every surface until even he half expected someone to pounce.
‘Hey, are you okay?’
‘Peachy.’
She wrenched free and wrapped both arms across her chest. It was like watching someone erect guard rails.
Okay, so she didn’t want to be alone with him. Yet she’d been fine last night in his bedroom. What had she asked him for? Lights.
‘You don’t like the dark?’ For some reason it made him think back to that odd ramble of Tom’s—‘Protect her for me...she’s been through enough...’—and his fists tightened into hard balls of menace.
She bristled with an adorable blend of embarrassment and pique.
‘Hey, so you don’t like the dark? So what? Neither do I. When I was a kid I used to crawl into bed with my mum during power cuts, for Pete’s sake. Some hard-ass Spider-Man I was.’
She blinked over and over, until the fine lines creasing her brow smoothed. ‘Spider-Man, huh? Did you have the blue and red outfit too?’
‘Sure I did. And the cool web-maker.’
Her small smile lit the corners of the hall. Finn wanted it stronger, brighter.
‘Did you have a tutu or a Snow White dress? My baby sister had all that crap.’
She snorted. ‘I doubt Snow White wielded a wrench, and I don’t expect engine oil would wash out of a tutu very well.’
His every thought slammed to a halt.
Reared by men in a man’s world. No mother—he knew from Michael Scott that Serena’s mum had died giving birth to her. No sisters.
‘Have there been any women in your life?’
She gave a blithe shrug but he didn’t miss the scowl that pinched her mouth. ‘Only my dad’s playthings.’
‘Ah. I get it.’ The narcissistic variety. Or maybe weak, fawning versions Serena would have recoiled from. So naturally she’d kept with the boys, until, ‘You feel uncomfortable around women.’
‘No!’ She kicked her chin up defensively.
Finn cocked one brow and a long sigh poured from her lips.
‘I don’t know what to say to them, that’s all, okay? We have nothing in common.’
‘You’ve never had any girlfriends at all?’ The notion was so bizarre he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
‘Not really, no. Tom and I had long-distance schooling, and it was pretty rare to see girls hanging around the circuit.’
Finn kept his expression neutral, conscious that empathy wouldn’t sit well with her. Yet all he could think of was his sister, surrounded by girlfriends, and she’d had their mother through her formative years. He dreaded to think what Serena’s adolescence had been like. No shopping trips or coming-of-age chats, nor any of that female pampering stuff he’d used to roll his eyes at but which had made Eva fizz with excitement.
He was astonished that Serena had managed without a woman in her life. Had she been allowed to be a girl at all? And why exactly did that make anger contort his guts? They were nothing to one another; only hate coloured her world when she looked at him.
‘So you have a sister?’ she asked quietly, almost longingly, and his chest cramped with guilt. It didn’t seem fair, somehow, that he still had Eva and Serena had no one.
‘Yes, I do. Eva.’
Eva—who had suffered greatly from the demise of Libby St George. And what had he done? Turned his back on her, on both of them, and walked away to chase his dreams, his big break. Knowing what they’d go through because he’d seen it all before. He’d left Eva to cope, to watch their beautiful mother slowly fade away.
Finn had let them down. Badly. And, what was worse, he hadn’t been the only one. His father, the great Nicky St George, eighties pop-star legend, had left to find solace in many a warm bed. Looking back, Finn still found it hard to believe he’d watched a good man—his childhood hero—break so irrevocably under the weight of heartache. And, while he felt bitterly angry towards his father to this day, he could hardly hate the man when he’d felt the same pain. When he’d let them down too.
Yet still his baby sister loved him. She was all goodness while he was inherently selfish.
Eva. His mind raced around its mental track. Eva would be perfect for Serena. A great introduction to the best kind of women...
Finn stomped on the brakes of his runaway thoughts.
It would be dangerous to take Serena to Eva. Eva might get the wrong idea. Serena might get the wrong idea. He might get the wrong idea. He was supposed to be getting rid of her, not fixing her and finding ways to keep her around! What was wrong with him?
‘Through here.’ He beckoned her towards another door. One he pushed wide and held as she warily followed him into one of the small lounges where the private games of the high-flyers were often held.
‘Why do I half expect the Monte Carlo Symphony Orchestra to strike up any second?’
‘It’s the grandeur of the place. It’s pretty spectacular.’ Oppressive at times, but spectacular nonetheless.
‘If you like that kind of thing,’ she muttered, with a slick manoeuvre that brought her back flush against another wall.
Musing on why she’d cornered herself again, Finn lounged against the arm of an emerald antique sofa a few feet away and faced her. ‘So, what do you fancy for dinner?’
She sniffed, the action wrinkling her little nose. ‘I’d rather starve.’
‘You’ve changed your tune pretty quick. Is it a habit of yours? It was only this afternoon you said, “I wouldn’t be seen dead” in reference to this very establishment. What changed your mind?’
Pouting those luscious lips, she weighed him up from top to toe, her gaze burning holes in his ten-thousand-pound tux. He felt all but cauterised.
‘First off, why don’t you tell me why you’re avoiding me?’
Because I can’t tell you what you want to hear.
‘Because every time I look at you I want to make love to that beautiful mouth of yours. It’s addictive.’ She was like a drug—the prime source of some very intense highs. ‘But you don’t want that, do you, Seraphina?’ he asked, rich and smooth, with a sinful tone he couldn’t quell even if he tried.
Up came her stubborn chin. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Then I would advise you to stay away. Because sooner or later we’ll have another repeat of last night.’
It was only a matter of time. Whether she wanted to believe it or not.
From the way her pulse throbbed wildly at the base of her throat and a soft flush feathered her skin he knew she was thinking about their kiss. Was she still tasting him as he could her?
‘I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice. I know a car crash when I see one,’ she said tartly. Then gave herself away by licking her raspberry pout.
She could taste him, all right. He’d also bet she wanted more and loathed herself for it.
Cursing inwardly, he allowed himself the luxury of drinking her in before he made his excuses and left.
Covered in a thin black trench coat, with a high, stiff collar and a straight no-nonsense hem just above the knee, she reminded him of a prissy professor. Though her perfectly sexy knees and her shapely bare calves smothered in luscious ivory skin ruined the imagery. As for her feet...
Finn clenched his jaw and breathed past the grin begging to be let loose.
Oh, man, did he want to see under that coat. More than his next breath.
‘Do you like to gamble, Miss Scott? Try your chances with Lady Luck?’
‘Not particularly. I’m not so sure I believe in luck.’
Her admission was a prelude to a charge in the air as secrets and lies swirled around them in an electrical storm.
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he drawled. Risky, Finn—and didn’t th
at just rouse his desire? He chose his next words very, very carefully. ‘If you do something for me I may grant you one wish. As long as it’s in my power to give.’
Up came her chin once more, her grey gaze narrow with scepticism as her need fought hand in hand with obvious discomfort. ‘Deal.’
‘Show me what you’re wearing beneath that coat.’
‘Wh...what?’
‘You heard. Untie that sash, undo those buttons, pull that coat wide and show me.’
Chaotic emotion and energy writhed around inside him.
What he was doing he had no idea. All he knew was that common sense and control took a back seat when he was within five feet of her.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and the sultry swell of her breasts made heat, fast and furious, speed through his body.
Ah, hell, he should stop her.
Right now.
‘A deal is a deal, Miss Scott. You don’t strike me as the type to renege.’
She tapped her hands against the ruffle of material at her thigh and slowly, provocatively, tiptoed her fingers up to the knot of her sash.
Finn gritted his teeth as the ribbon-like belt sank to each side of her hips.
Every pop of every button was magnified, the sound echoing off the silk-covered walls, until she gripped the sides of the soft black fabric.
Then she heaved a bashful sigh, rolled her eyes, and pulled the lapels wide, giving him exactly what he was looking for.
‘Happy now?’ she snapped.
‘Ecstatic.’ Only Serena would storm into one of the most exclusive casinos in the world wearing a pair of frayed denims cut high on her toned thighs and another quirky T-shirt—this one ocean blue, with two scuba divers and the words ‘Keep Your Friends Close and Your Anemones Closer’ riding across her taut stomach.
With no effort whatsoever, she lit up his dark, dark soul.
‘What gave me away?’ she asked, a hint of petulance smoking her tone.
He pointed his index south. ‘Your feet.’
Her gaze followed the direction of his finger. ‘What’s wrong with my feet?’ Her brow furrowed, her head shot back up, eyes slamming into his. ‘And what’s with that wicked gleam and that grin?’
‘I’ve just never seen you in anything other than biker boots.’
‘So?’ she snarked. ‘One of my dad’s ex-lovers gave them to me, I think. This is the first time I’ve had them on.’
Light crept over marble-grey and Finn hurtled towards lucidity. The reason she wouldn’t be seen dead here. The reason she’d shied away from the glamour puss outside the bathroom. Not only did she feel uncomfortable around women, she felt horridly out of place—and yet she’d come here to find him.
Beautiful and brave. He’d never wanted her more. And didn’t that spell trouble?
‘So I’ll ask you again,’ she groused. ‘What’s wrong with my feet?’
‘Nothing, baby, they’re cute.’ The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel worse. She didn’t have a clue.
‘Cute?’ she spat. ‘Kittens are cute. I am not cute. And cut it out with the baby. It’s driving me nuts!’
‘Tell the truth—you love it. Every time I say it you careen into some kind of delightful fluster.’
The nuts part was that she was beginning to like it, and she didn’t want to like anything he said to her.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘Now it’s my turn. I want my wi...’
Her voice trailed off, eyes widening, as he pushed himself off the sofa-arm and sauntered towards her. While he had every intention of playing fair, it wouldn’t hurt to distract her, now, would it? If he tried to kiss her again she would either hit him or bolt. Either exit was fine with him.
When he was up close and personal she raised her head, and Finn caught sight of the wild flutter at the base of her throat.
‘I bet you don’t even realise you have the most beautiful, elegant décolletage.’ He trailed one fingertip down the side of her neck. ‘And this skin of yours is a perfectly gorgeous peach colour.’ Yeah, like peaches and cream, to go with that strawberries and cream voice.
‘St...stop saying stuff like that, Finn.’
No.
‘Love the T,’ he murmured as he brushed down between her breasts with the backs of his fingers, over the creased transfer of frothy waves in a blue ocean—‘Keep Your Anemones Closer’. Sorry, beautiful, not going to happen.
Down, down he stroked—with fire unfurling at the tops of his thighs—and when he reached her navel—
He growled. Snatched his fingers away and slammed both hands against the wall on either side of her head.
‘Wha...what’s wrong?’
Finn closed his eyes. ‘I need to look.’
‘A...at what?’
‘You know what. On your stomach.’
A tremble shook her voice. ‘Only if you tell me what’s wrong with my...my feet.’
Prising his eyes open, he focused on the perpetrators. ‘Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. They’re pretty little...ballerina pumps. I think that’s what they’re called.’
‘Do you know you pause when you lie?’
Great.
‘Okay, okay. They’re slippers.’
Her gorgeous face fell in horror and if she’d been any other woman he suspected she would have burst into tears. Not Serena.
‘They are?’
‘Cute ones,’ he said quickly. ‘With little leopard spots on.’
Dismay vaulted into pique and she visibly vibrated before him. ‘I refuse to feel stupid just because you know more about women’s stuff than I do, considering how many you’ve had.’
He divined that any figure she could engineer would be highly exaggerated, but still... ‘Agreed.’ If she felt stupid she wouldn’t let him take a peek at her belly button, now, would she?
‘Fine. Go on, then. Get it over with. Take a look. But know this: I couldn’t care less for your opinion.’
‘Liar.’ He brushed the pad of his thumb from the corner of his mouth across his bottom lip, eking out the suspense of the moment, then bent his knees and lowered himself into an elegant crouch.
Serena raised the fabric of her T-shirt with an innate feminine sensuality she wasn’t even aware she possessed and vicious need clawed at his gut.
One look and he cursed softly.
All the will in the world couldn’t have stopped him. Out sneaked his tongue and he licked the small loop and diamond-studded ball.
Cool was the silver against the tip of his tongue, and her soft flesh was a welcome splash of warmth as an aftertaste.
Holy...
She tasted of passion fruit and coconut and something else he couldn’t quite catch, so he knew it would torment him.
That was it. He was a goner. He even felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. Wondered if hers were doing the same.
‘You got any more?’ he asked thickly, nuzzling her navel with the tip of his nose. All the while he was commanding his legs to stand up and back the hell away.
‘M...more?’ she said, or at least she tried to.
The way her midriff quivered he could tell her breathing was as bad as his.
‘Piercings.’
‘Piercings?’
What was she? A parrot?
‘Yes!’
‘No. No more...piercings.’
He moaned low in his throat. ‘But something else, right?’
Silence. Only the staccato wisp of a desperate moan from her lips.
‘Tell me,’ he demanded.
So of course she said, ‘No.’
‘Oh, man, you’re killing me, Serena.’ Up he came, standing tall to press closer. To crush those gorgeous breasts against his chest.
When was the last time he’d felt like this? Like his old self but astoundingly better because his ever-present guard was low. Risky. So risky.
But when was the last time he’d thought about anything but Singapore? In one way it physically hurt to be near her, aware that he caused her pain. But in the next second he was a man again and there was heat. So much heat. Scorching his blood in a rush of need and pure want. Never had he felt anything like it.
Selfish as always, he wanted—no, needed one more taste.
‘I warned you, baby. You should’ve left when you had the chance.’
Desperate to savour as much of her as he could, he dived into the heavy fall of her hair and closed the gap until they were nose-tip to nose-tip.
‘This is crazy, but—do you feel this?’ he asked, unable to hide the awe in his voice.
Fighting to keep her eyes open, she shook her head, rubbing his nose with her own. ‘No...’ she breathed on a hot little pant.
‘Good. Me neither.’
Softly, languidly, he brushed his lips over her velvety pink flesh and the pounding of his heart jacked out of rhythm. Then the need that continually clawed at him grew steel-tipped talons and slashed through his gut, demanding he mark her, take her, glut himself on her.
And she was melting. There was no other word for it.
‘I’m...’ Hard. So hard. For the first time in almost a year.
Thought obliterated, he crushed her body into the wall, then slanted his head and deepened his kiss. Like dynamite they ignited, and when she responded with a tentative stroke of her tongue his hands began to shake.
Her mouth was heaven—warm and wet, with the slip and slide of passionate lips—but, greedy as he was, he wanted more. A deeper connection. He longed for her to move, to touch him properly, covet his body with her small hands, be skin-to-skin. Claim him. Brand him as her own. Which was not only bizarre but hellishly scary.
Still the need went on. Because he wanted her to feel how hard he was for her, to know what she did to him, how sexy and desirable she was—
Whoosh! The door swung open with a bellow of male voices and they were flung apart as if electrocuted. It was comical in a way. Serena was visibly rattled and he doubted he looked much better. And since when had that ever happened?
The Woman Sent to Tame Him Page 7