„Don‟t.‟

„Don‟t what?‟ Dominic asked softly. And then he couldn‟t help himself. He reached and stroked some strands of hair away from her face and then left his hand there, tangled in her hair.

It felt good. Better than good.

„Don‟t do what you‟re doing,‟ Mattie whispered unevenly, although she couldn‟t seem to find the strength to pull away from him.

„I‟m not doing anything. Yet.‟

She whimpered and made a half-hearted attempt to draw back, but the light pressure of his hand against the side of her head was clogging up her thought processes.

„I said I‟d talk and I‟ve talked.‟

„Maybe it‟s not enough.‟

„You promised…‟

„Did I? I don‟t think so. I never make promises I know I won‟t be able to keep.‟

His hand had moved to cup her face and one finger traced the outline of her trembling mouth.

„I want to see you again,‟ he told her huskily. „And again. And again.‟

„I‟ve told you, there‟s no point.‟

„You‟ve told me that we come from different sides of the tracks and that you‟re not for sale because you happen to work in a nightclub. Well, I‟m not interested in buying my women and I don‟t give a damn about what side of the tracks you do or don‟t come from.‟

He moved around, just an easy, graceful shift of position, so that now she was leaning against the door and he was in front of her. Then he propped himself against the door with the flat of one hand, and with the other he began to do the unthinkable.

He began to trail his fingers along the circular rim of her jumper.

Mattie had her hands pressed against the door, wanting to run but longing to stay just where she was and let her body carry on responding the way it was doing right now.

It had been a long time.

Even before she and Frankie had ceased all form of physical contact, apart from the very occasional hug when they both found themselves helpless victims of nostalgia, regret and awareness of the chasm between them, Mattie had found it impossible to respond to him. His touch had left her cold, made her want to curl up into a ball and hide away. For a long time, she had put it down to sheer exhaustion at the hectic hours she kept and the demands on her time.

Then she had seen it for what it was—she no longer enjoyed being with him and that had simply extended to all areas of her life.

„Please, Dominic…‟

His name left her lips like a breathless caress. She should have called him Mr Drecos.

That would have established some distance between them.

„Look, Mattie, I know you think I‟ve pursued you for no better reason than to get you into bed…‟

„And haven‟t you?‟

„I want to enjoy you.‟

„I told you…‟ Mattie could hardly recognise her own voice. It was shaky and husky, probably because she felt as if she was gasping for air.

„And you want to enjoy me too.‟ His kiss as he lowered his head was as light and as unthreatening as a feather brushing against her mouth, but it still managed to turn her legs to jelly. They matched her brain.

„Is it a crime to give in to mutual attraction?‟

This time his kiss was a little less unthreatening and far, far more shockingly potent, because he was doing things with his tongue, invading her mouth, exploring her until she could barely support herself against the door.

„Well, is it?‟ he murmured unsteadily, drawing back from her so that she felt the absence of his touch like a sudden, yawning hole inside her.

„You‟re confusing me.‟

„Good. I want to confuse you. Just as you confuse me. I want you to shiver every time I cross your thoughts and I want to send every nerve in your body into disarray whenever I touch you.‟

He was virtually making love to her with his words, something she had never

experienced in her life before. But then, her only lover had been Frankie and words had never been his strong point. Looks, yes. The Irish blood in him had given him those all right, but that was as far as it went.

She was up against a different species here and she knew it. And, knowing it, she struggled to get her own thought processes into working order.

She could hardly dredge up Frankie‟s face under the onslaught of emotion flooding through her like a tidal wave!

His hand, that damned hand of his, slithered to caress her bare skin under the jumper. Just the flat, hard lines of her stomach, not venturing anywhere higher up, but it was sufficient to make her catch her breath. In surprise. And, she thought chaotically, pleasure. No, pleasure was too mediocre a word. Excitement.

„So…will you spend the night here? With me? In my bed?‟

„No…please…‟ Mattie clung on to what coherent common sense was still in play. „This is…is ridiculous…‟ The hand crept fractionally higher.

His own patience astounded him. He could feel her trembling under him, wanting him, but he was still having to rein in his impulse to lift her off her feet and sweep her into his bedroom like a primitive caveman taking possession of his woman.

His hand was only inches away from her breasts. Beautiful, well-shaped breasts that he wanted to touch and suck and worship.

„We have nothing in common…‟

„I can think of something we have very much in common, actually…‟

„Go and play your games with your own type…‟

„I don‟t have a type. Only bores have types.‟

„Well, go and play your games with…with someone else…!‟ The scattered conversation had done what it needed to do. Gave her room to breathe instead of just waving and drowning under her panting senses.

Gave her time to remember the man waiting for her back at the house and the

impossibility of her situation.

She wriggled slightly and the hand that had been doing such dangerous things to her stomach found what it had been edging towards.

Mattie literally jumped as his long, expert fingers worked their way over her breast, found the nipple pointing and aching under the lacy bra and rubbed it.

One more minute and she could say goodbye to any kind of self-restraint.

„No!‟ She pushed his hand and he removed it immediately but only so that it could join his other hand, still lying palm down against the door.

He looked at her in the trap he had managed to create, with both his hands caging her in.