Free The Case of the Mesmerizing Boss by Diana Palmer Page B

man’s. His chest, what she could see of it, was covered in thick black hair. He was deeply tanned from his face down to what she could see of the taut muscular flesh above his belt buckle, and it didn’t look like the type of coloring gotten from the sun.
    “It’s natural,” he murmured, surprising her by reading the question in her eyes. “I tan in the summer, but this stays with me year-round. One of my grandfathers was Spanish.” “I didn’t mean to stare.”
    He took the package of steaks out of her hands and tossed it to one side. His lean hands tugged until she fell against him. In his reclining posture against the counter, the contact was total, all the way up and down, and she stiffened unconsciously.
    “No surprises,” he promised. “Just this. Watch.” His voice was deep and sensuous. He held her waist loosely with one hand while the other slowly worked buttons out of buttonholes and finally tugged his shirt free of his slacks, disclosing a broad, muscular chest that was almost completely camouflaged by thick, curling black hair. “Now, look at me,” he said quietly.
    She did, helplessly. She’d never seen anyone quite as masculine or as sensuous. He even smelled male, a scent that worked on her senses fiercely as she stood against his long, powerful legs and stared at the expanse of bare flesh he’d uncovered for her.
    “Your eyes are very expressive,” he said, his eyes darkening, glittering. “Giving away secrets.”
    “What kind of secrets?” she asked huskily, lifting her face to meet that hungry gaze.
    “You’d be surprised.” He bent and bit at her mouth roughly. The contact was swift, and then she was free. “Keep those sultry eyes to yourself. They’re more dangerous than you realize.”
    He moved lazily toward the bedroom. Tess had barely recovered her balance and her good sense by the time he’d changed into tight jeans and a white T-shirt. The clothing fit him like a second skin,
     
    The Case of the Mesmerizing Boss63 outlining a body that most men would have killed for. He was tall, but not thin. His broad shoulders tapered down in a wedge, over a muscular chest to lean hips and impossibly long legs. He was built like a rodeo rider. Tess had to drag her gaze back to the steaks.
    “Like coffee?” he asked, smiling with pure delight at the way she was watching him. “Yes.” “I’ll make it.”
    The kitchen was too small for two people. That was probably why, she thought breathlessly, he was constantly brushing against her in the most arousing way as he brewed the coffee.
    He finished, but he didn’t go away. In his sock feet, he was still taller than she was, and his relaxed manner of dress made her much too aware of him as a man. “I disturb you,” he mused.
    She started to deny it, then thought better of that. He might be compelled to prove it if she did. “Yes,” she said instead.
    He leaned back on his hands against the counter, smiling with his eyes in a way that made her knees weak.
    “Why don’t you come over here and do something about it,” he challenged softly.
    She wanted to groan. She shouldn’t have been vulnerable. The last time she’d been in this apartment, he’d hurt her, scarred her, almost savaged her. How could she feel so wanton now? “Dane,” she protested, her eyes lifting to his.
    “I can feel you tremble,” he whispered deeply, his eyes narrowing with desire. “I can hear you breathing, Tess.” His eyes fell to her breasts, which were shuddering under the thick sweatshirt. “Think how it would be, if I eased up the hem of that sweatshirt and slid my lips over your breasts, took the nipple in my mouth and made it tight and hard….” “Dane!”
    She was shaking. She barely saw him move the frying pan off the burner and turn off the stove. His lean hand snaked out and caught her wrist, pulling her within reach. Both hands went to the sweatshirt and bunched it, clutched it, while his dark eyes probed hers.

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    Diana