She’d caught more than a few unaccustomed flares of heat in her own body. Alex was an incredibly attractive man, one of those men who looked better and better as you got to know them and they let you see their range of intelligence and emotion. He was also very different from the men she’d met in her past.

Sometime last night, she’d realized the difference was that he didn’t care about impressing her. After a lifetime of fawning gentlemen, there was something exciting about the one who did whatever the heck he wanted, whether she approved or not. Which, in a strange way, gave her permission to do the same thing.

So she let the robe fall open, showing off most of her right leg. Then she curled her feet beneath her on the wide, soft chair, not even caring that the position nearly exposed her bare hip. There was something exhilarating about the pose, and something even more exhilarating about Alex’s avid gaze.

He stared at the smooth, softly tanned leg. “You know,” he began in a quiet voice, “you are not what Harrison thinks you are.”

Okay, she’d bite. “What does Harrison think I am?”

Alex’s attention moved to her eyes. “Some decorative appendage without a mind of her own.” He sat forward in his chair, taking in the complete length of her body. “You, sweetheart, definitely have a mind of your own.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” She shifted, and the robe inched up.

He reached across the space between them. Then he traced his fingertip from her midthigh, over her knee and down her calf.

Her muscles contracted and her breath caught.

“This work often?” he asked mildly, lifting his finger from her ankle.

She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.

He looked into her eyes. “For getting men into your bed.”

“I’ve never had a man in my bed.”

The second the words were out, she realized what she’d admitted.

Alex squinted. Then he rocked back. “Come again?”

She didn’t know what to say.

“Brittany?”

“Too much information?”

“How old are you?”

Her embarrassment quickly turned to annoyance. It was hardly a crime to be a virgin. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Yet, you’ve never…” He lifted his hands in a gesture of confusion. “You’re stunning as sin. You practically killed me on the dance floor last night. And that bikini would get you on the cover of any magazine in the world. How on earth…”

What? She was supposed to take every offer that came her way?

“There are two kinds of men in my life,” she told him bluntly. “The kind that are afraid of my father, and the kind that would run to the tabloids. Who was I supposed to sleep with? Tell me?”

“For the record,” he said, “I picked up the ball on your little seduction there, because I thought you knew what you were doing.”

“I’ve been sleeping in my own bed,” she countered. “Not hiding under a rock. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“I can’t sleep with you, Brittany.”

“Why not?” Okay, that hadn’t come out exactly as she’d planned. She might be inexperienced, but bitchy and demanding didn’t seem like a particularly effective seduction technique.

She wasn’t sure exactly when she’d decided to seduce Alex. She wasn’t in a hurry to lose her virginity, and she certainly wasn’t desperate. It was just that he was Alex. And there was something about him. And she knew if she didn’t do this she’d spend the rest of her life wondering.

“One word,” he said in answer to her terse question.

She waited.

“Harrison.”

“Do you honestly believe Harrison will care if I’m not a virgin on our wedding night?”

“Harrison will care very much that it was me.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought about that.

“Yeah.”

“He’d fire you?”

“I’d quit.”

Okay, that wasn’t good. She tucked her leg beneath the robe where it belonged. “Guess I’d better go back to repressing.”

“That would be good.”

She bobbed her head for a moment. “Too bad. I kind of liked having a wild side.”

“You could turn Harrison down.”

“And have a fling with you?”

“And do anything you want. Just because you’re programmed to find a titled husband doesn’t mean you-”

“Programmed?”

“What would you call it?”

“Harrison and I have many things in common.”

“Like money, titles and property holdings?”

“Like religion, politics, art and mutual friends.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“He’s a lovable man.”

“Does he make your heart beat faster, your skin prickle with heat, your toes curl?”

That wasn’t a fair question. Those things made for a good fling, not a good marriage. Marriage was more than mere physical attraction.

“Because, if he doesn’t, sweetheart,” Alex drawled, “it’s going to be a bloody long marriage.”

She pulled herself forward in the chair. “Why do you care?”

The question seemed to stop him. Seconds ticked by. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

“Are you protecting Harrison?” she asked. “Are you afraid I’ll make him a bad wife?”

Alex’s gaze dropped to where her robe gaped open.

At the touch of his gaze, her heart beat faster, and her skin prickled with heat.

“No,” he finally said in a voice that was low and tight with emotion. “I’m afraid I’ll have to quit my job anyway, because I won’t be able to stand watching the two of you together.”

Brittany’s heart thudded deep and hollow. She could swear she heard it through the silence that boomed in the room.

“So,” he breathed and rose to his feet, his eyes focused on the cleavage revealed by the robe. “I guess, since that’s the case, I’m in. Your call.”

She slowly rose to face him. Could she sleep with Alex then marry Harrison? It was what she wanted, but she couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal. Ironically, though, it seemed like a betrayal of Alex rather than of Harrison.

“I can’t,” she managed.

Alex smiled, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Of course you can’t.”

“But I want to.” She owed him her honesty, at least.

He cupped her cheek. “So do I.”

She closed her eyes and rested against his open hand, its warmth bittersweet. Her own hand rose to his wrist, wrapping around its thick strength and holding on, desperately afraid to let go of the moment.

He took a step forward, smoothing her hair with his other hand. She inhaled the hiss of his breath, subconsciously leaning into his scent and his strength.

Then his lips touched hers, and hot emotion swamped her, cresting along her limbs, flushing her skin.

She kissed him back, and the world fell away.

He opened his mouth, and his hand slipped around, anchoring at the back of her neck, holding her close while he kissed her thoroughly, deeply, expertly.

She took her own step forward, bringing their bodies together, and his arm went around her waist, while hers snaked around his neck. The knot in her sash rubbed free. Her robe slipped open. And his raw cotton shirt abraded her tender skin.

Sparks of desire shot down her spine. Want pooled in her belly, and need softened her bones, making it difficult to stand.

Alex’s lips left her mouth. They trailed down her cheek to the crook of her neck, to the tip of her shoulder, pushing the flimsy robe until it slipped down her arm. He pushed the other side, and the fabric whispered down to pool at her feet.

He drew back to look, eyes dark with desire.

He groaned once, then scooped her into his arms and crossed to the bed.

The air whispered over her bare skin. His hands were hard and solid against her. His arms were strong, his body sturdy. She wasn’t engaged, and they were both adults, and they were perfectly free to make this decision.

He laid her down, then straightened away, his eyes determined and defiant as he worked his way down the buttons of his shirt. She watched him, mesmerized as he stripped it off. His chest was impressive, dark and broad, sculpted with muscles that corded into his shoulders and neck.

His hands moved to his slacks, popping the button, drawing down on the zipper.

The room air was cool, but his gaze was hot. It traveled the length of her body then back again. Need roared in her ears, and it clouded her brain, until all she could see was a tall, naked, god of a man sinking down on the bed beside her. His hand closed over her breast. His mouth met her swollen lips. And his thigh slid up between hers, landing solid, sending rivers of sensation straight up to her brain.

His thumb rasped her nipple, and she reflexively arched. He murmured soothing words, gentling the caress.

She stroked his arms, clasped his shoulders, kissed his lips and tangled with his tongue.

After that, she was lost.

“What do I do?” Her whisper was pained against his mouth.

“Anything you want.” He kissed her again. “Trust me, it won’t be wrong.”

His hand slid down her rib cage, cupping her bottom, kneading the soft flesh.

She feathered her fingertips down his chest, feeling the hot play of his muscles, the sparse hair, his flat nipples.

He sucked in a breath, so she tried it again, smiling to herself when she realized he liked it. She swirled down lower, and lower still.

He gasped. “You want this to be over quick?”

“I have no idea.”

“Trust me, you don’t.” He retrieved her hands, putting them safely against his back.

But when his wandered to her thighs, she copied his movements. They stared at each other, alternately kissing and touching and teasing, as their bodies grew slick and the tension ratcheted up between them.

Then finally, he trapped her wrists in one hand, holding them out of harm’s way. He gently urged her thighs apart, watching her expression as he positioned himself above her.