{Nauti Boys 5} - Nauti Deceptions by Lora Leigh

like satin and silk combined. And as he looked, he realized it was all but devoid of makeup.
    She looked like a temptress with those violet eyes though. Those long, riotous red gold curls flowing around her, making a man wonder what it would be like to be bound within them.
    “This is a bad idea.” He sighed, lowering his head and allowing his rougher cheek to brush against hers. “Tell me to leave.”
    “Leave,” she breathed as she softened against him.
    He almost laughed. Damn her, she could make him laugh when no one else could. “That wasn’t an order, Rogue.”
    “Oh. It was supposed to be an order?” A little, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
    Oh yeah, she knew he wanted her until he ached with it. And she wanted. She wanted with the same hunger. He could see it in her eyes.
    Her shoes dropped to the carpet, the light thud barely registering in his head. Hell, he could barely hear anything over the race of his own pulse and the thunder of lust in his veins.
    He let his lips skim her cheek. The need for her threatened to erode his control and his senses.
    “I’m leaving,” he told her. “This is too damned dangerous.”
    “Of course it is.” One small hand clenched on his upper arm. The fingers of the other were pressing against his stomach. She could feel his abs flexing; he could feel the warmth of her through the material of his shirt.
    His cock pressed imperatively against his jeans. The hard throb was making him crazy. It had made him crazy all evening. How much hell was one man supposed to endure before the hunger overrode control? he wondered. And what was it about this one woman that threatened his control?
    He let his lips brush against the curls at the side of her face. They were soft, fragrant. Like silk that smelled of dawn. He wanted to crush them between his fingers, hold her in place, and eat her up with kiss after kiss. He wanted to taste those lush, sensual lips. He wanted to feel her tongue against his, hell, he wanted all of her.
    “You’re teasing me.” Her voice was weak, a hint of need quivering within it as she shifted closer to him. “Don’t tease me, Zeke. Kiss me, or let me go.”
    “You’re supposed to tell me to leave,” he reminded her.
    “Kiss me or leave. Do one or the other.”
    “Kissing you would be a very bad idea.” So why wasn’t he stepping back? Why wasn’t he letting her go? Instead, he was moving closer, one arm curling around her back as he gripped her jaw with his hand and lifted her head.
    “Or one of your better ideas,” she retorted breathlessly.
    He didn’t give himself a chance to think, and he should have. He should have considered the consequences, and he damned sure should have considered the spark that blazed between them even when they weren’t touching.
    He should have considered it, because each time he did, he knew better than to draw closer to the fire. He knew better than to let his hunger get the best of him. But he didn’t consider.
    He brushed his lips over hers as they parted. Light as a whisper, he let himself feel her lips. He came back for a taste. The barest taste of that full lower lip, and it was ambrosia. Nectar. It was the sweetest taste of flesh that he swore he had ever known. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was the lightest flavor of his favorite drink that lingered there. The slightest hint of the dark, potent whisky he preferred.
    “Zeke,” she whispered his name against his lips. “Please. Don’t tease.”
    She didn’t whimper, she didn’t beg. It was a demand given in the tone of a woman who accepted that the tease might be all she would receive.
    But the man wasn’t teasing. Zeke didn’t tease. He was almost as helpless in the grip of the sensuality weaving around them as she was in his hold. He lifted her closer, notching the hard width of his cock against her as he turned and pressed her into the wall, his lips parting, his tongue pressing between hers, his need controlling every objection his head was