Daring in the Dark

Simon was knee-deep in muck but apparently lacked enough sense to stop wading. “I’ve never operated solely from a state of lust. Her brain and her personality are half the appeal. Otherwise I’d only want her for half a week. And I wouldn’t worry about senseless.”

Her naughty smile wrecked him. “You are wicked, Simon Thackeray.”

Forget muck. This felt like dangerous sexual flirting and he needed to stop. And he would. Soon. He leaned forward, drawn by the heat in her eyes, lured by her smile. “Perhaps my love languishes unrequited because I’m too wicked to love.”

She shifted forward, her knee brushed his and the contact surged through him. A seductive smile curved her lush mouth. “I seriously doubt that. Don’t you know that all that wickedness just drives women to distraction?”

All he truly knew was that she drove him beyond distraction. Beyond caution. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

“The last time I checked, I was a woman, so I suppose so.” There was something in her eyes. Something that said she knew how utterly wicked he could be and she liked it, despite herself.

Which was ridiculous because he’d been very careful to limit his exposure to her. He raised his brow in question. As if she suddenly realized what he’d seen in her eyes, she blinked and it vanished. She leaned back into her chair, putting a distance that existed beyond mere space between them. Thank God one of them had some sense. “What do you do with all of that pent-up…energy?”

Egad, the woman was relentlessly curious—no trouble at all believing she got herself locked into a wardrobe—which was yet one more reason he’d taken himself out of her and Elliott’s sphere. For one moment he considered telling her he jerked off often, just to see if it would shock her into no more questions, but that tactic had already failed once. And quite simply he couldn’t bring himself to be so crude. He opted for the truth.

“I run. A lot. At this point, I’m probably hovering in marathon-training range.” He laughed at himself. “And never underestimate the efficiency of the proverbial cold shower.”

As it stood now, a cold shower sounded better and better on more than one count. Sweat slicked him and her skin glistened with a fine sheen of moisture. He was a sick beast when a woman sweating struck him as sexy.

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