fought him, he would have been honor bound to release her. From early adolescence, Maeve Kavanagh had drilled into her boys the proper ways to treat women with respect. She would have Liam’s hide for a handbag if she thought he had coerced any female, much less a guest at the Silver Beeches.
Fortunately for Liam, Zoe was not the kind to hold a grudge. She sighed and kissed him back.
Her acquiescence fired his hunger. He gripped her more tightly until she struggled. “Easy, big guy,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. You pled your case persuasively. If this hotel thing doesn’t pan out, you ought to think about becoming a lawyer.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” he cajoled.
Her lips were as soft as the fog that rolled up over the mountain on winter mornings. And she tasted like the best wine in the cellars below. He ran his hands over her back, daring to slide one beneath her shirt. The delineation of her spine was more pronounced than it should have been. Thinking of her so ill bothered him in ways he couldn’t explain.
Though her personality was tough, in his arms she seemed fragile, heartbreakingly vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he said again, urging her to believe in his sincerity.
Her waist was narrow, and without a belt, her pants rode low on her hips. Raw need blinded him as he imagined unzipping her clothing, dragging her beneath him and entering her hard and fast in hope of slaking the formidable hunger that gripped him.
Zoe’s silence began to worry him. “Say something, damn it.”
She tipped back her head and looked him straight in the eye, her expression rueful. “You don’t know much about sweet-talking a woman, do you?”
“I’ve always preferred action to talk. Words can run in circles.” Nuzzling her nose with his, he kept his hips pressed to hers, letting her feel what she did to him.
Her arms were wrapped around his neck, gratifyingly tight. He grasped her chin with one hand, keeping her lips in kissing distance. His other hand fisted in a hank of her hair. Caught thus, she had no choice but to open to him as he gave in to the urge to claim her mouth again.
“Oh, Liam,” she sighed. “You do this so very well.”
Since he felt like a rank teenager in the grip of angst-laden crush, her words of praise affected him more than they should. “ We do this well,” he corrected. “I’m as surprised as you are.” Sliding a hand between their straining bodies, he found a pert nipple and stroked it.
Zoe twined a leg around his thigh. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t plan to.” Scooping her into his arms, he strode toward the sofa, collapsing onto the butter-soft black leather with Zoe in his lap.
She laid her head on his shoulder. “This is the best hotel ever.”
“Brat.” A wave of tenderness swamped him, for the moment taking the edge off his arousal and allowing his conscience to lobby for maturity and restraint. “You know we probably shouldn’t do this, right?”
She sighed. “I know. We’ve only just been introduced.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. You are the sexiest, most appealing woman I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.”
Pulling back to look up at him, she raised her eyebrows. “Ever?”
He grinned, kissing her nose. “Well, I did get introduced to Gwyneth Paltrow once when she was filming a movie here. But movie stars don’t count. And besides, she’s a little too old for me.”
Zoe chuckled, playing with a button on his shirt. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have carnal relations with Gwyneth Paltrow if you had the chance?”
“Chris Martin might not like it.”
“He’s a musician. You’re a wannabe football player. I think you could take him.”
Fighting his baser instincts, he stood up, setting her on her feet and moving himself out of temptation’s reach. “If you stay here any longer, we both know what’s going to happen. As much as it pains me to point it out, I think the timing is wrong. You said so