He could do something about at least one of those things, but if she wasn’t interested, they’d move on.

It would probably be for the best anyway, considering the spur-of-the-moment nature of his proposition.

He should withdraw his offer and leave it at that. After all, he couldn’t think of a more inappropriate—

“Yes, thank you.”

Her whispered words brought his commonsense train of thought to a screeching halt, and his jaw dropped as he watched her dip her head, allowing the sharply defined points of her sleek bob to swing forward and hide her face.

His throat went bone-dry, and all sound judgment fled as he watched his hands reach for that vulnerable nape.

He hesitated just shy of touching her and inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of the fresh, floral scent that had tantalized his senses all evening.

When his fingers finally made contact with her soft, exposed flesh, his breath shuddered out of his chest in tandem with hers.

He was instantly, painfully, and immutably hard, and he allowed himself to deepen his touch, even though every instinct in him was screaming that this was a mistake.

This is a mistake.

The thought—which had been buzzing around in Cleo’s head from the moment of initial contact between them, through their first stunning kiss, into the shedding of her clothing, and then when his mouth latched onto her breast for the first time—was getting ever more insistent.

But Cleo had more interesting things to focus on, like the way his large, assertive hand was making its way down her body to . . .

“Oh God!” she moaned as that hand did magical, sinful, unimaginable things.

Her back arched, and his smoldering gaze fell to the beaded tips of her breasts.

She uttered another breathless little cry when his hot mouth fixed on one hypersensitive nub.

Her fingers curled into his silky hair as she tried to keep him there.

“I can’t . . .”

Her voice tapered off into a high-pitched whine when his supremely talented mouth left her breast only to lavish the same treatment on the other mound.

She could feel his hot hardness poised at her entrance, and her hands left his hair to claw at his back and tight buttocks, trying to pull him toward her.

He lifted his head to stare down at her, his eyes feverish as they pinned her with single-minded concentration.

“You want me?”

God, his sexy voice, roughened with desire and strain, nearly made her come right on the spot.

She couldn’t quite believe how much he was making her feel, how very much she wanted him inside her.

She couldn’t remember wanting any other man half as much as she did this one.

And yet . . .

This is a mistake!