Read Online A Reputation to Uphold by Victoria Parker - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Parker
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breath trickled over her face, warm and alluring. Spellbinding. He dipped his head and lightly grazed his jaw up her cheek, the friction a delicious firework of sensation. And all the willpower in the world couldn’t have prevented the mini explosions in her midriff, the ripples that danced up her body. Piping her veins with heat. Making her breath hitch.
‘Ah, Eva, we have enough chemistry to blow up a small country.’
Blinking over and over, she said, ‘We do?’ Oh, boy . Was he saying he felt the same way?
She would laugh if she had the strength to fight through the painful irony. Of all the times she’d wanted him to crave her, only her, he finally desired her when it was too late. ‘Explosives are dangerous, Dante.’
‘Very dangerous,’ he murmured, his deep voice sliding over her, dark and sensuous, like a physical touch.
And then, oh , he did touch. His lips shimmied over the soft spot between her neck and shoulder and her lashes fluttered to a close.
‘Therefore not to be trifled with,’ he went on, before flicking her earlobe with the tip of his nose.
A moan threatened to trip from her lips but she caught it in the nick of time. Determined to stay strong. Not to cry out for more. More pleasure. More pain.
‘Eva...’ he said, her name another caress, sliding off his tongue with all the practice that had once made her name an endearment. When she was young, stupidly naive, she’d fancied he said it as if she was the most special thing in his world.
The past blended with the present as his heat surrounded her, drawing her in. Without conscious thought, she reached up...touched the smooth satin of his jaw. Satin over steel, his skin smouldered, scorching her fingertips. And Eva—now a moth to a flame—turned her face until they shared one breath. Until he licked her lower lip with the devilish accuracy of his tongue. Leaving it burning. Tingling.
‘Need more proof, cara ?’ he said, drawing back, his eyes the deepest, most sensual hazel she’d ever seen. Hot. Heavy. Glittering. The same way he’d looked at her last night. In the gardens, when he’d held her tight to his body to stem her fall and she’d convinced herself that look was antipathy. That he couldn’t bear to touch her.
Suddenly the room revolved once more, spinning their situation in another direction entirely.
Dante was attracted to her . He felt the same way. And suddenly she was less of the girl she used to be and more Eva, the older, wiser woman on an equal footing. The woman who’d made peace with the strictures of her life. The woman who didn’t need love. Nor passion. Especially with a man masterful in the art of devour-and-discard.
Oh, she’d read the tales of his jar of tattered hearts, seen enough pictures of Dante with his glamorous brunettes to fashion the ultimate armour. She may not want a relationship but hell would freeze before she slept with a man no better than her father.
So, if she was going ahead with this spurious soap opera, losing her grip, her head or her pride was not an option.
She’d been thrown for a loop yesterday, unreeling like a spool after the fund-raiser. Missing Finn, her mother. But, today, everything had changed. She had her business to save. Be the woman she’d fought to become.
If she could rise from the ashes of destruction and build a business to be proud of she could go out and be his date for dinner. Easy. Two or three dinners in a nice, controlled, professional atmosphere—deal done. Her beautiful little boutique, her new life saved. His deal saved. Everyone happy.
Some of the stress knotting her nape unravelled. Of course she could do it. She met clients over lunch, knew how to talk the talk.
There was really no need for the words fairy tale and relationship to bring on a migraine of epic proportions. It wouldn’t resemble a real relationship at all. No lovey-dovey stuff. This was Dante they were talking about, after all.
‘And this is strictly business. Right?’
‘Ah, Eva, we have enough chemistry to blow up a small country.’
Blinking over and over, she said, ‘We do?’ Oh, boy . Was he saying he felt the same way?
She would laugh if she had the strength to fight through the painful irony. Of all the times she’d wanted him to crave her, only her, he finally desired her when it was too late. ‘Explosives are dangerous, Dante.’
‘Very dangerous,’ he murmured, his deep voice sliding over her, dark and sensuous, like a physical touch.
And then, oh , he did touch. His lips shimmied over the soft spot between her neck and shoulder and her lashes fluttered to a close.
‘Therefore not to be trifled with,’ he went on, before flicking her earlobe with the tip of his nose.
A moan threatened to trip from her lips but she caught it in the nick of time. Determined to stay strong. Not to cry out for more. More pleasure. More pain.
‘Eva...’ he said, her name another caress, sliding off his tongue with all the practice that had once made her name an endearment. When she was young, stupidly naive, she’d fancied he said it as if she was the most special thing in his world.
The past blended with the present as his heat surrounded her, drawing her in. Without conscious thought, she reached up...touched the smooth satin of his jaw. Satin over steel, his skin smouldered, scorching her fingertips. And Eva—now a moth to a flame—turned her face until they shared one breath. Until he licked her lower lip with the devilish accuracy of his tongue. Leaving it burning. Tingling.
‘Need more proof, cara ?’ he said, drawing back, his eyes the deepest, most sensual hazel she’d ever seen. Hot. Heavy. Glittering. The same way he’d looked at her last night. In the gardens, when he’d held her tight to his body to stem her fall and she’d convinced herself that look was antipathy. That he couldn’t bear to touch her.
Suddenly the room revolved once more, spinning their situation in another direction entirely.
Dante was attracted to her . He felt the same way. And suddenly she was less of the girl she used to be and more Eva, the older, wiser woman on an equal footing. The woman who’d made peace with the strictures of her life. The woman who didn’t need love. Nor passion. Especially with a man masterful in the art of devour-and-discard.
Oh, she’d read the tales of his jar of tattered hearts, seen enough pictures of Dante with his glamorous brunettes to fashion the ultimate armour. She may not want a relationship but hell would freeze before she slept with a man no better than her father.
So, if she was going ahead with this spurious soap opera, losing her grip, her head or her pride was not an option.
She’d been thrown for a loop yesterday, unreeling like a spool after the fund-raiser. Missing Finn, her mother. But, today, everything had changed. She had her business to save. Be the woman she’d fought to become.
If she could rise from the ashes of destruction and build a business to be proud of she could go out and be his date for dinner. Easy. Two or three dinners in a nice, controlled, professional atmosphere—deal done. Her beautiful little boutique, her new life saved. His deal saved. Everyone happy.
Some of the stress knotting her nape unravelled. Of course she could do it. She met clients over lunch, knew how to talk the talk.
There was really no need for the words fairy tale and relationship to bring on a migraine of epic proportions. It wouldn’t resemble a real relationship at all. No lovey-dovey stuff. This was Dante they were talking about, after all.
‘And this is strictly business. Right?’
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