Forbidden Seductions: His Forbidden Passion / Craving the Forbidden / Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger

Yet, ‘Don’t you like me touching you?’ he asked thickly, all too aware of the warmth of her bare thigh brushing his trousered leg. ‘That’s not the impression I got before.’

‘Bastard!’

The word was barely audible, but the way she thrust back her chair and got to her feet showed how angry she was. Casting a contemptuous glance over her shoulder, she strode across the deck to the rail, and for a moment Dominic had the uneasy feeling that she intended to jump over the side.

But all she did was grip the rail with both hands and stare out across the water. He guessed her knuckles must be white, judging by the taut muscles tensing in her arms. The stiff line of her spine was eloquent of the resentment she was feeling, the sweet curve of her buttocks above those spectacular thighs made him itch to cup them in his hands.

Dear God!

He dragged his hands through his hair, aware that this wasn’t the way he’d intended to play it. Dammit, she had a low enough opinion of him as it was without him making it ten times worse. Yet something about her got under his skin. When he was with her, he couldn’t think about anything—or anyone—else.

Common sense was telling him to go and get changed into something cooler and take her into town. He’d promised his grandfather he’d look after her, and that didn’t include touching her every chance he got.

Getting to his feet, he stood for a moment regarding that rigid back, and then, almost of their own volition, his feet moved in her direction.

He stopped directly behind her, but she didn’t turn. She must have heard his approach, he thought impatiently, waving the ever-attentive waiter away. The soles of his Oxfords made a distinct sound against the floor of the deck.

‘Talk to me,’ he said, his breath fluttering the wisps of sable silk that had escaped her scarf. ‘Dammit, Cleo, I’m not the only one involved here. You wanted me yesterday morning. You can’t deny it. If I hadn’t called a halt…’

Cleo clamped her jaws together. She had nothing to say to him. But he was right. However passionately she might try to convince herself that he’d been totally to blame for what had happened, nothing could alter the fact that she’d been completely blown away by his kisses, had been drowning in the sensuous beauty of his mouth.

Her silence angered Dominic. Drawing the wrong conclusions, he did something he would never have done if she’d only admitted there were faults on both sides.

Moving closer, he placed a hand on the rail at either side of her. Now she was imprisoned against the chrome-plated barrier, his lean body taut against her back.

She moved then, tried to turn, but he wouldn’t let her. With the scent of her warm body rising to his nostrils and the agitated movements she was making only adding to his unwilling response, there was no way he was going to let her go.

Pressing closer, he let her feel the unmistakable thrust of his arousal. Wedged one leg between hers to feel her sensual heat.

The little moan that issued from her lips when he bent his head and bit the soft skin at the side of her neck was almost his undoing.

It was so fragile, so anguished, and a knot twisted in his belly at the sound. But the desire to turn her round and feel her breasts pucker against his chest was consuming any lingering sense he had left.

‘Dominic…’

Her whispered protest only added to the urgent need he had to touch her. The sinuous pressure of her thighs against his pelvis almost drove him crazy with need.

‘I want you,’ he said, his voice barely recognisable to his own ears, it was so thick and hoarse with emotion. ‘I don’t care about anything else. I just want to feel you naked in my arms.’

‘And then what?’ Cleo challenged him unsteadily, even as her treacherous body arched back against him.

She so much wanted to give in. But she had to remember who he was, what he was: a man who apparently cared for nothing but his own needs.

She took a deep breath. ‘Perhaps you’re thinking, like mother, like daughter. That I’m no better than Celeste. That just because a white man looked at her—a married man, moreover—she was happy to let him screw her brains out.’

‘No!’

Dominic swore then, his voice harsh with self-loathing. Hauling her round to face him, he grasped her tilted chin in one less-than-gentle hand.

‘D’you think that’s what all this is about?’ he demanded, trying to ignore her quivering lips, her eyes, that were the mirror of her soul. ‘Some sick desire to follow in my father’s footsteps?’ His jaw clenched. ‘For God’s sake, Cleo, I thought you knew me better than that.’

Cleo trembled. ‘But I don’t know you at all!’ she exclaimed, her hands gripping his biceps, feeling the muscles grow taut beneath the fine cotton of his shirt. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’

She was trying to hold him back, but it was a losing battle. He was so much stronger than she was, so much more determined to have his way.

‘You do know me,’ he said savagely. His thumb scraped painfully across her lower lip. ‘Dammit, you know how I feel about you.’

‘Do I?’

Her eyes widened and now he could see tears sparkling in the corners. And the desire he’d had to hurt her as she was hurting him was strangled by his need to comfort her.

‘Cleo—’

‘You want I should clear now, Mr Dominic, sir?’

Dominic couldn’t believe it. One of the yacht’s younger—less experienced—stewards had appeared at the top of the steps that led down to the domestic area of the vessel carrying a tray.

Forced to let go of Cleo, Dominic swung round, ready to deliver a cutting denial. But Cleo’s hand on his sleeve was a silent rebuke.

‘All right,’ he muttered. ‘Why not?’ He gave the youth an affirming nod. ‘I guess we’re finished here.’

Then, striding away towards the companionway, he cast a look back at Cleo. ‘Wait for me,’ he commanded harshly. ‘I won’t be long.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#ulink_7387eb1d-e8eb-5747-a9db-e5cbcee877ef)

THE phone rang as Dominic was getting ready to go for his morning run.

He was tempted to ignore it. But it just might be his grandfather, and he and the old man were not on such good terms at the moment.

Calling to Ambrose, his houseman, that he’d get it, Dominic returned to the foyer and picked up the receiver.

‘Yeah,’ he said flatly, and then stifled an oath when Sarah came on the line.

He’d managed to avoid talking to Sarah for the last couple of days. He’d had Hannah tell her he was out when she’d rung him at the office, and Ambrose had orders not to tell anyone but Jacob that he was in the house.

He’d known Cleo wouldn’t ring. Since that afternoon on the yacht, he’d neither seen nor spoken to her. Mostly because Jacob had ordered him to stay away from Magnolia Hill.

She’d been gone when he’d returned to the sundeck that day. The young steward had stammered out the news that the young lady had walked off into town.

Dominic had known right away that he hadn’t a hope in hell of finding her in the busy little town. The straw market adjoined the harbour and it was the easiest thing in the world to get lost among the many booths and stalls.

Besides, he’d suspected she’d find some way to get back to Magnolia Hill, and she had. She evidently hadn’t wanted to disturb her grandfather, but equally she’d have rather done anything than wait for him.

Which, of course, was why he and Jacob were barely speaking to one another. Jacob had had no hesitation in blaming Dominic for Cleo’s sudden departure from the yacht.

‘You’d better keep your hands off her in future,’ he’d warned his grandson, not at all convinced by Dominic’s explanation that Cleo had left the yacht of her own volition. ‘If anything happens to that girl, boy, I’ll know exactly who to blame.’

Dominic had had to accept that that was fair comment. And he had to admit that neither of them had known a minute’s peace until Serena had rung to say Cleo had returned to the house in a taxi.