TheTemptationNotJustifiedAReFinal (3 page)

“She’s
adorable,” he said honestly. The last photo drifted into place, showing Arianna
smiling into the camera in front of a birthday cake with six candles on it.

“She’s
the best thing that ever happened to me.” Heartfelt emotion filled her voice and
eyes.

“She
has a beautiful name. What made you decide on Arianna?”

“Actually,
my mom named her. She thinks names are very important, and she wanted Arianna
to have a special name. I went along with it when she told me what the name
meant.”

“It
means ‘holy one,’ right?”

Her
face showed her surprise. “Yes, that’s right.”

He
chuckled. “The etymology of names is kind of a hobby of mine.”

“Really?”
She looked skeptical.

“What,
you doubt me? Pick almost any name, and I can give you the origin and the
meaning.”

“No
way.”

“I’m
serious. Pick one. Make it good.”

She
screwed up her face into the cutest little scowl, exaggerating her efforts at
concentration. “How about . . . Celeste?”

He
spread his palms wide. “Come on—too easy. Give me a harder one.”

She
put a hand on her hip. “You don’t know, do you?”

He
cast an incredulous look in her direction, unable to believe she’d challenged
him. “What? Are you questioning me, my skills, and my honesty?”

She
cast her gaze upward toward the ceiling as if to think about it. “Umm . . .” Her
gaze lowered again. “Yes.”

“Do
you
even know what your name means?”

“Of
course!” Her indignation was adorable.

“All
right, then. It would have been a shame for a man whose life centers around
astronomy to not know this one. The name Celeste is derived from Latin. It
means ‘from the heavens.’
Heavenly
.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of
her, and he shouldn’t have edged closer.

The
smile on her face made a downward slide. Her throat muscles worked a slow
swallow. “Correct,” she said.

“I
know.” Roarke rested his elbow on top of the back of the sofa and let his
forefinger play with a lock of her hair. She didn’t move away. The back of his
hand lightly grazed more of the fine strands. With Herculean strength he
resisted the urge to grab a handful. “So what do I get?” he asked.

“I
don’t—I don’t know what you mean.”

“You
challenged me, and I won. Don’t I get something?”

“You
want a prize?”

“Yes.”

A
look of uncertainty crossed her face, but after a few seconds, she offered,
“How about a hug?”

“A
hug is nice, but I’d rather have a kiss.” At her look of alarm, he amended his
request. “On the cheek.”

Her
brow furrowed in an indication of distrust. “You’re not going to do that thing
where you turn at the last minute so I end up kissing you on the mouth, are
you?”

Not
a bad idea. “No, I’m not. I’m one of the good guys, remember?”

“Good
guys don’t coerce kisses from women they just met,” Celeste pointed out.

Undeterred,
one corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “Actually, they do.”

The
pink tip of her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. His mouth went dry as he
watched the fleeting movement. In slow motion she leaned forward and pressed
her mouth to his cheek. His jaw hardened on impact, and warmth spread along the
side of his face. The light fragrance of her perfume—peaches? apricots?—invaded
his nostrils and dismantled his resolve to remain impassive.

He
couldn’t resist holding her in place, smashing the soft curls against the back
of her head. He heard the sudden inhalation of her breath as he brushed his
hair-roughened cheek against the silky-smooth softness of hers.

“That
wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked in a thick voice.

He’d
tried to sound nonchalant, as if they were having a normal conversation, but
there was nothing normal about his attraction to her. He dipped his head and
pressed a quick kiss to the underside of her jaw. She shivered, and she reached
out and sank her fingers into his upper arm. The warmth of her touch sent his
heart rate escalating at a dangerous pace.

With
his hand securely at the nape of her neck, his gaze locked with hers. She’d
roused something in him. A powerful, consuming need that made him question the
workings of his normally logical brain, now clouded in a befuddling haze of
lust.

Her
wild-eyed stare signaled her own confusion. “No, it wasn’t,” she whispered.

At
first he had no idea what she was talking about, but then he realized she’d answered
his rhetorical question.

When
his phone beeped, Roarke broke eye contact, and the moment was lost.
Aggravated, he glanced at the screen and read the text from Lucas:
Ladies
leaving. Me and Xander heading out. U coming?

He
showed the screen to Celeste. “What do you want to do?”

Her
tongue drifted over her lips again, and he gritted his teeth against the
reactionary tightening in his crotch. She picked up her purse from the coffee
table. “I should probably go, too.”

Roarke
placed his hand on her wrist, and she froze. “Or you could stay.”

She
stared down at his hand, and several moments passed before she spoke again. “That’s
not a good idea.”

“Why
not?” He wasn’t ready for her to leave. He would rebut every single objection
until he convinced her otherwise.

“I
don’t know you.”

“So
stay, and get to know me. I’ll answer all your questions.”

“You
know that’s not what I mean.”

Roarke
ran his thumb back and forth over the velvet skin of her wrist. “I’m asking you
to stay a while longer. Aren’t you having a good time?”

“Yes,
but—”

“But
what?” He smiled. “You said earlier you seldom take time out for yourself. It’s
your birthday, and it’s not even midnight yet. Are you telling me you’re ready
to go home already?”

“No,
but I could catch my friends and see if they want to go somewhere else.”

Roarke
shrugged. “Or we could stay, listen to music, and talk some more. If you’re
worried about your safety, what could I possibly do to you here?”

“I’m
not worried about my safety.”

“Then
what is it?” He knew exactly what it was. The sexual tension between them was so
thick only a machete could cut through it. If she were half as attracted to him
as he was to her, it was certainly cause for concern.

Her
face displayed how she struggled with the decision to remain with him. Up until
the last few minutes, he had been a perfect gentleman. Had he come on too
strong and now she was backing off?

She
expelled a breath. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

The overwhelming
satisfaction he felt made him want to jump up and pump his fist. Instead, he
texted a response to his friend.

Chapter
Three

Over
an hour later, Celeste and Roarke stepped out into the temperate night. A mist
of rain sprinkled down on them as they moved with brisk steps down the sidewalk,
toward the public garage, to Roarke’s car. She’d told him she could take the
train back to the station where she’d left her vehicle, but he insisted on
giving her a ride.

Deep
down, she was happy about it. She didn’t want the night to end, and she wished she
could think of a reason to prolong the time in his company. He’d been
considerate all evening, refusing to let her pay for anything and reminding her
it was her birthday. They’d chitchatted about everything, from politics to
religion, from world affairs to current events on U.S. soil. His breadth of
knowledge of each topic they tackled amazed her.

A
loud boom of thunder clapped overhead, and the surrounding buildings rattled an
answer.

“Wow,
that was loud,” Celeste murmured, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah,
it—damn!”

As
if someone turned on a celestial faucet, rain rushed down on them in a torrent
as lightning flitted across the sky in a jagged arch. Celeste squealed,
hunching her shoulders in vain to protect herself from the heavy droplets.

“Come
on!”

Roarke
took hold of her hand, and they jogged to the shelter of a jewelry store’s
entryway. The deluge imprisoned them behind a curtain of water. They hovered in
the doorway for protection, only a few feet from the downpour, pressed against
each other as the wind whipped the rain into a wild frenzy. Roarke provided a
shield with his body, his back to the street to prevent the wild sprays from
reaching her.

They
stood there, clinging to each other, when reality slowly set in. Their bodies were
pressed into a corner. The grumble of thunder and the splatter of raindrops
created a symphony of sound that caused Celeste to melt against him, as if her
bones had abandoned her body.

“Typical
Georgia weather,” Roarke murmured, his breath stirring the damp hair on her
head.

She felt
the stealthy motion of his hand creep up her left side and come to rest below
the curve of her breast. Desire flooded her body, making her wet and hungry
within seconds in anticipation of his next move.

“I’ve
lived here all my life, and I’m still not used to it.”

She
barely recognized the husky tremor of her own voice. She’d clearly lost the
battle to sound casual. In the darkened corner, she was surrounded by the sharp
citrus scent of his cologne. The gentle scratch of Roarke’s facial hair brushed
the skin of her cheek. When his tongue snaked to the corner of her mouth, she
struggled to regulate her breathing, and her eyelids lowered in acceptance.

They’d
danced around it all night, but each smile, each word, each touch had been
leading up to this moment. His hand pressed her lower back so her hips became
glued to his. Pressure built between her legs to an almost unbearable, nuclear
level.

Then
he kissed her. The hungry assault of his lips pulled a moan from her as she
looped her arms around his neck and received his ardor with enthusiasm. The
sharp flavor of rum and the sweetness of Coke danced across her palate. His
sneaky thumb inched higher and rubbed the erect nipple of one breast, sending a
dart of pleasure to settle between her legs.

His
mouth continued to glide over hers, soft but firm. His tongue made sweeping movements,
thrusting in and out in a seductive motion that had her mindless with burning
need, scattering her earlier reservations. All she could do was moan and run
her fingers over the dark curls on his head.

Roarke
shifted, and the next thing she knew, her back was against the cool glass of
the jewelry store door, her dress hiked high up on her thighs so he could lift
her leg and position himself more intimately against her. The hard bulge he pressed
between her legs made her tremble with the realization of a need so basic it
permeated every cell of her body.

She
couldn’t think around the hunger clawing at her loins. She wanted him
desperately and increased the fervency of her kisses, letting her tongue duel
with his, and her teeth nip at his mouth. All the while, his thumb continued
its relentless movement across the now rock-hard nipple of her breast, her
thong wet with moisture at the ceaseless torture.

He
pulled down a corner of her dress and released the puckered nipple to the night
air. Lowering his head, his mouth became a salve to the swollen, achy flesh.
With the soothing warmth of his mouth and the slow-motion stroke of his moist
tongue, he eased the sting of the nipple’s arousal.

She
trembled, arching into him, resting the back of her head against the glass,
aching as his hips gyrated in circles against hers. She listened to his groans,
endured the pleasurable sucking motion of his lips and the continuous swirl of
his tongue.

“Get
a room!” someone yelled, but the words seemed to come from far away. They did
nothing to curtail the hunger flaring through her like a firestorm.

Celeste
couldn’t hold back any longer. She bit down on her lower lip, but it was to no
avail. He had her pinned against the glass, one leg in the air, her breast in
his mouth, his erection grinding against her in a ruthless rhythm she couldn’t
fight against. Her tightly wound body exploded, and she cried out as the orgasm
tore through her, violently pumping her hips to achieve maximum pleasure.

He
released her nipple and whispered in her ear, “Yeah, baby, that’s it. Let it
go.”

Another
violent spasm rocked deep within her, and she trembled, grabbing at him as
their hips glided against each other through the barrier of too many clothes. A
deep, shuddering breath escaped her lungs as the remains of ecstasy eased away.

She
was shaken, and her mind fried. The depth of feeling that overtook her had
moved with the power of a freight train, making her feel helpless and
vulnerable. Embarrassed, she avoided his gaze.