"You tried to protect me today," he said softly. "I don't think anyone has ever thought to try to lie for me."
His voice was musing, as though he were trying to figure out why she had done it.
"It wasn't as much a lie as it seemed," she said to excuse herself. "I was damned glad to see that camera go."
"I'm glad I could accommodate you then." His lips quirked, that hint of amusement clenching her thighs.
"Break security cameras often then?" Her voice had a tremor in it that wasn't hard to read.
His smile deepened; his exotically lined and tilted eyes took on a sensual, drowsy cast. "Not often," he admitted.
"Would a person have cause to lie for you often?" She lied for Dane all the time.
"I'm fairly honest." His voice lowered further. "And as much as those damned ugly skirts of yours turn me on, I don't need to hide behind them."
"My skirts aren't ugly." They were detestable.
"This is much better." He reached up and fingered the shoulder of her silky robe. "You look like a princess dressed in that. All that pretty hair flowing down your back. I should be shot for the things I think about doing to you."
She licked her lips and breathed in roughly.
"Like what?" She almost winced at the question.
It had been a hell of a day, she rationalized. The stress of stealing information from Sanctuary, the risk of knowing she might be caught at any time, and now this. The knowledge that she hadn't worked fast enough and she was getting entangled in her own emotions.
No. No emotions, she warned herself.
"Like taking the sadness out of your eyes, maybe?" He lowered his head, his lips pressing against her temple. "What goes through that pretty head when your eyes darken like that?"
No emotions. No entanglements.
She was fooling herself. He had charmed her from the first moment she met him, and look at her now. She was melting against him like butter.
"How foolish you were to sneak through the window when the doors work perfectly fine," she told him breathlessly. "Are all Breed males so complicated?"
"Hmm." His fingers threaded into the side of her hair, his hand cupping her head, holding her in place. "I just want a nice good-night kiss and then I'll leave."
"You don't have to leave."
He paused, his lips almost touching hers.
"The spare room," she rushed to say, feeling her heart racing against her chest, need clawing through her.
His lips quirked. "Just a nice good-night kiss," he repeated. "Very harmless. I promise."
Harmless? Like hell!
His lips covered hers with the same destructive results as they had before. She couldn't think, she didn't want to think. Her hands lifted, speared into the coarse length of his hair, and she moaned at the pleasure.
Had she ever known a kiss as good, as wicked as Mercury's? He didn't just move his lips against hers, he nibbled; he stroked and he licked, and when his tongue finally touched hers, she was so ready for it that she sucked it eagerly into her mouth.
As though she had tripped a hidden switch, both hands gripped her head, holding her still. His lips slanted over hers and skyrockets exploded in her head. She didn't want this kiss to end. She didn't want to ever lose this feeling, the taste of him, the feel of him, the certainty that there would never be another kiss to rock through her soul as this one did.
"God, you make a man forget what he came for." He tore his lips from hers, but he still held her. His large hands cupped her head, his fingers rubbing against her scalp.
"You came for something more than the kiss?" She stared up at him, dazed, needing.
"I need you to promise me something." He laid his forehead against hers. "Just one little thing."