Читать книгу A Malibu Kind Of Romance - Synithia Williams - Страница 3

She slid her foot back to step away. His hand shot out and latched on to her waist. Dante closed the scant distance between them and pressed his solid body against hers.

“Don’t stand so close if you don’t want to get caught.”

Desire coated every nuance of his voice. The air around them shifted, crackling and sparking with the anger, annoyance and attraction simmering between them. The line between anger and desire was thin, and when his long fingers flexed against her waist, the line snapped. He infuriated her. The audacity of him paying for the meal, declaring himself competition, insisting that being zapped by the electric current between them was inevitable. Yet she couldn’t listen to the faint voice in her mind that said to pull away. Sucking in a breath, she didn’t smell cologne; instead, the clean smell of masculine soap and the intoxicating heat of his body made her mouth water.

“Now that I’ve got you,” he said, his tenor lowering to a seductive bass, “what are you going to do?”