His words had been delivered in such a soft, sensual, velvety voice that a tremor rippled through her. She hated knowing he'd feel her need for him.
She wanted to look away but his gaze was holding hers in a way that she would have felt weaker if she would accept defeat.
He smirked. A smile that told her, he knew what she was thinking.
He moved closer slowly, testing the waters. He half-expected her to run inside and shut the door, but she didn't react in any way—didn't cower, didn't lower her eyes, didn't fidget or back away.
Instead, she remained where she stood in the doorway with her head held high, shoulders straight, and maintaining eye contact.
Before she could even think to answer, he'd pushed her inside the room, kicked the door shut, and slammed her against the wall.
Then his mouth was on hers and he was devouring her. There was nothing gentle or coaxing about the kiss.
