“There is no problem,” she insisted, surprised at how desperately she wanted to convince him of that. Right now, standing just a foot away from Nathan in the seclusion of the supply room, she needed to convince herself that she belonged to Elliott Bentley-Squire. Jordana lifted her chin. “You seem to think you know a lot about Elliott and me. Do you make a practice of invading civilians’ privacy?”
“No. Only women who make it a practice of kissing me, then insisting to their presumptive mates that they have no idea who I am.”
Oh, God. Before he left the museum, Nathan must have heard her deny knowing him to Elliott. Jordana winced, remorseful now. She gave a mild shake of her head. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “If you have to lie to Bentley-Squire to keep him happy, it’s none of my concern.”
“No,” she said, ignoring the jab. “I mean, I’m sorry about that night in my apartment … when I kissed you.”
“Are you?” He didn’t believe her. His tone was cool and level, but it contained a dangerous edge.
“Of course I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Then why did you?”
She glanced down, searching for an answer that would make sense to herself as well as to him. “I did it because I was afraid.”
“You didn’t seem afraid, Jordana.”
“I was afraid of what you might do if you found out Carys was there with Rune that night. I only wanted to stop you from finding out. I just wanted to distract you.”
His face darkened in challenge. “There were a dozen different ways you could’ve done that, none of which would’ve involved putting your mouth on mine.”
She groaned, feeling her cheeks go warm and red. “I know. I’ve already apologized. It was a mistake, and I’m sorry, Nathan.”
The way he looked at her brought every nuance of their kiss back to life in her senses—the cushion of his mouth beneath hers, the softness of his lips combined with the rough abrasion of his dark-shadowed jaw. The powerful stillness of his body as she threw herself against him.
Punishing muscle and lethal strength caged inside a rigid, total control.
Some brazen part of her she barely recognized throbbed with the want to know that kiss again—to have a taste of what it would be like to press against this deadly male and see if he ever let his iron discipline slip, even a little.
More uncomfortable heat flooded her face at the uninvited direction of her thoughts.
And deep inside her, another unsettling heat bloomed …
Nathan’s gaze lingered on her, those eyes seeing everything about her. Knowing everything. Ruthless in their study of her.
Jordana grew anxious suddenly, afraid that Nathan might touch her.
Afraid he might kiss her.
Afraid he wouldn’t.
“I’ll take that tape now,” she said, her voice thick and raspy.
He didn’t give it to her, didn’t move. “Tell me what you see in Elliott Bentley-Squire.”
Jordana stared up into Nathan’s dark eyes. She shook her head.
“Tell me,” he insisted.
Although talking about Elliott was the last thing she wanted to do in that moment, Jordana drew a breath and tried to conjure words. “He’s kind and affectionate,” she murmured lamely. “He’s loyal and steady and attentive …”
Nathan’s lips twisted with dark amusement. “That’s how I’d expect you to describe a pet, not the man who’s fucking you.”
The frankness shocked her, embarrassed her. But she was also unwillingly aroused by Nathan’s lack of delicacy. There was a rawness about him that was unlike anything she was accustomed to.
She was playing with fire where this dangerous male was concerned, and it only made her want to dance closer to the flame.