teasingly.
He stiffened, and his eyes sparked, but then he raised his hands as if holding something back and said, “No. You’re not going to get to me that way, either.”
“Why, whatever do you mean?” Isabelle moved closer, and Michael did not step back. She was only inches away from him, and she gazed deeply into his eyes. “I think that you must have misunderstood what I said.” She began to play idly with one of the middle buttons of his shirt.
“I don’t think so.” His voice came out a little choked, and he moved back.
“What’s the matter, Curtis? Scared of me?” Isabelle’s expression was mocking and filled with sexual challenge. Holding his eyes with hers, she laid her palms flat against his chest and slid her hands slowly upward. Michael swallowed hard, and his jaw clenched, but he did not step away.
“No, not scared.” His voice was husky. “Just curious.”
“Curious?” She repeated without much interest. All her attention was now focused on his mouth. She moved across the inches that separated them so that their bodies were now lightly touching. The heat of Michael’s body blazed through Isabelle’s body like an electric shock, and she knew that her face was now soft with sensuality, her eyes dark and beckoning, without the least bit of effort on her part.
“Curious about what?” she murmured, linking her hands behind his neck. She turned up her face, offering up her succulent mouth to be kissed. “What it would feel like to kiss me?” Her lips were only a breath away from his now. Her heart was racing, and heat was pooling in her abdomen. “To take me to bed?”
Michael drew in his breath sharply, and his arms wrapped up around her. His mouth sank into hers. He kissed her hungrily, and whatever heat Isabelle had felt before was like nothing compared to the explosion that tore through her body now. His lips were hot and firm, pressing into her, moving her own lips apart. His arms molded her against him. She could feel every solid, muscular inch of his body against hers, and her loins blossomed with heat.
It had been so many years since she had kissed him that she had forgotten how it felt—how hot and fierce his mouth was, how sweet and yet demanding. She had forgotten the hungry, yearning way he wrapped himself around her, as if he would pull her into him and consume her. A shudder ran through her, and she tightened her arms convulsively around his neck.
Finally he raised his head, and for a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes. Then, in a flash of embarrassment, awareness of where they were came back to Isabelle, and she could see from the look in his eyes that Michael, too, had joltingly returned to reality. He drew in a breath, and then he released her, putting his hands on her shoulders and setting her away from him.
“No,” he said in a rough voice. “I wasn’t curious about that. I just wanted to see how far you would be willing to go to get what you want.” He quirked an eyebrow coldly. “I guess I found out.”
Isabelle’s eyes flashed, and her hand lashed out to slap him. They had rehearsed it, but earlier she had not moved with such quickness and venom. Still, he caught her wrist, just as planned, and held her arm motionless.
“Don’t try to take me on, Jessica,” he warned her. “I promise you, that’s one fight you’ll lose.”
He stepped back, dropping her arm, and turned and walked away from her. Isabelle stared after him in outrage and shock. As he reached the door, she broke out of her paralysis and, letting out a shriek, grabbed up a vase from a nearby table. She hurled it toward him, and it hit the wall with a satisfying crash. He was gone by then, but she picked up a book from the table and sent it flying after him. It hit the door with a thud. She sent all the loose pillows of the couch after the book and then flung herself down on the sofa in a paroxysm of rage.
“Damn you, Curtis Townsend!” she hissed fiercely. “I’ll
He stiffened, and his eyes sparked, but then he raised his hands as if holding something back and said, “No. You’re not going to get to me that way, either.”
“Why, whatever do you mean?” Isabelle moved closer, and Michael did not step back. She was only inches away from him, and she gazed deeply into his eyes. “I think that you must have misunderstood what I said.” She began to play idly with one of the middle buttons of his shirt.
“I don’t think so.” His voice came out a little choked, and he moved back.
“What’s the matter, Curtis? Scared of me?” Isabelle’s expression was mocking and filled with sexual challenge. Holding his eyes with hers, she laid her palms flat against his chest and slid her hands slowly upward. Michael swallowed hard, and his jaw clenched, but he did not step away.
“No, not scared.” His voice was husky. “Just curious.”
“Curious?” She repeated without much interest. All her attention was now focused on his mouth. She moved across the inches that separated them so that their bodies were now lightly touching. The heat of Michael’s body blazed through Isabelle’s body like an electric shock, and she knew that her face was now soft with sensuality, her eyes dark and beckoning, without the least bit of effort on her part.
“Curious about what?” she murmured, linking her hands behind his neck. She turned up her face, offering up her succulent mouth to be kissed. “What it would feel like to kiss me?” Her lips were only a breath away from his now. Her heart was racing, and heat was pooling in her abdomen. “To take me to bed?”
Michael drew in his breath sharply, and his arms wrapped up around her. His mouth sank into hers. He kissed her hungrily, and whatever heat Isabelle had felt before was like nothing compared to the explosion that tore through her body now. His lips were hot and firm, pressing into her, moving her own lips apart. His arms molded her against him. She could feel every solid, muscular inch of his body against hers, and her loins blossomed with heat.
It had been so many years since she had kissed him that she had forgotten how it felt—how hot and fierce his mouth was, how sweet and yet demanding. She had forgotten the hungry, yearning way he wrapped himself around her, as if he would pull her into him and consume her. A shudder ran through her, and she tightened her arms convulsively around his neck.
Finally he raised his head, and for a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes. Then, in a flash of embarrassment, awareness of where they were came back to Isabelle, and she could see from the look in his eyes that Michael, too, had joltingly returned to reality. He drew in a breath, and then he released her, putting his hands on her shoulders and setting her away from him.
“No,” he said in a rough voice. “I wasn’t curious about that. I just wanted to see how far you would be willing to go to get what you want.” He quirked an eyebrow coldly. “I guess I found out.”
Isabelle’s eyes flashed, and her hand lashed out to slap him. They had rehearsed it, but earlier she had not moved with such quickness and venom. Still, he caught her wrist, just as planned, and held her arm motionless.
“Don’t try to take me on, Jessica,” he warned her. “I promise you, that’s one fight you’ll lose.”
He stepped back, dropping her arm, and turned and walked away from her. Isabelle stared after him in outrage and shock. As he reached the door, she broke out of her paralysis and, letting out a shriek, grabbed up a vase from a nearby table. She hurled it toward him, and it hit the wall with a satisfying crash. He was gone by then, but she picked up a book from the table and sent it flying after him. It hit the door with a thud. She sent all the loose pillows of the couch after the book and then flung herself down on the sofa in a paroxysm of rage.
“Damn you, Curtis Townsend!” she hissed fiercely. “I’ll
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