have stepped closer. She certainly didn’t step back.
“I never rule anything out.”
Her vision blurred, her insides melting as his thumb lightly caressed the base of her skull. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Thorne to kiss her—God only knew she did, and badly. “About these men—”
“Don’t want to talk about them right now.”
“Then about my father—”
“Definitely don’t want to discuss him now, either.”
“But—”
He brushed his other thumb over her lower lip, effectively boxing her in. Her lips throbbed with anticipation. She sighed as he took her mouth in a deep, slow kiss that mated their tongues in a slick, hot dance.
Isis liked to have the upper hand, and he was taking that away with his persuasive, marauding lips. When she was in control, she could stop. Not easily, but she could. When he took that away from her, she was helpless to resist. He was taking the balance of power from her, and she shouldn’t like it. Shouldn’t want it—but God help her, she did.
She opened her eyes to see the darker outer ring of green around his irises. Abandon hope all ye who enter here. Isis broke the lip-lock and had to clear her throat before she managed to say, “This isn’t very professional.” It sounded a whole lot more breathless and inviting than she intended.
His hand slid down her back and around her waist and he drew her up on her toes with his palm on her back. “Not in any way, shape, or form,” he admitted with a breath from her lips. The penetrating green eyes saw right through her bravado, saw right down to the part of her that was naked, willing, and wanton. It would be foolish to claim she didn’t want him when her desire for him was evident in every atom of her body.
He brushed her lips with his and murmured, “You should lodge a complaint.”
“You don’t listen to complaints.” Isis slid her palms up his chest, feeling the tensile strength of solid muscle. She bracketed his face with both hands as he angled his head, pulled her in tighter, then parted her lips with his tongue. His jaw was rough, he hadn’t shaved, his skin was warm, his mouth decadently pliable. Stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, she hummed her pleasure as she ran her stiffened tongue over the roof of his mouth.
Thorne shuddered. She let her tongue soften, slinking over his to prowl along the hard edge of his teeth. His fingers tightened on her back.
He was a Master Kisser. And Lord help her, Isis was a woman who loved kissing. But he took it to a whole new level, to uncharted reaches. She loved the slip and slide of meshing tongues, and the firmness of smooth lips. She loved the heat, and the textures. She loved hurtling into the unknown. For her, a kiss wasn’t necessarily the endgame or a prelude to bigger and better things. A kiss was its own entity, to be savored and enjoyed while it lasted.
A hot, trembling need swept through her body, filling every cell with want. They’d fight for supremacy—later. For now she sank into the kiss and enjoyed every moment of it. He tasted of whisky, smoky and powerful, but more profoundly, he tasted achingly, wonderfully familiar.
By the time their lips parted, they were both breathless. Isis dropped her head to his chest as she waited out her crazy heartbeat and breathlessness. Her lips buzzed deliciously. “Wow. That was…”
“Yeah.” His breath blew hot on the crown of her head.
Isis stepped out of his arms and smiled up at him through a haze of lust. She had to clear her head. “I’ll get dressed. Thank you for bringing me—What did you bring me?” Her body hummed.
“Something to wear tomorrow.”
“Was the boutique open? What time is it?” Well after midnight.
“The hotel staff opened the shop for me briefly so you would have something to wear. You can choose what you like in the morning.”
Like any woman, Isis loved new clothes, but her thrifty side insisted they might get their luggage back, and if not, then she wasn’t willing to pay the exorbitant prices at the upscale hotel boutique. “Not at those prices I won’t.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay.”
“No, thank you. I’ll pay my own expenses. And would you please stop telling me not to worry?”
His chest rose and fell and her fingers ached to touch him. “There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of ever seeing those suitcases again. Probably stolen before we came