Читать книгу French Quarter Kisses - Zuri Day - Страница 8

Roz found herself studying his face, his profile.

His hair wasn’t all black, she discovered, but was more a deep brown with errant gold highlights here and there. Was that natural? She thought so, and felt the same about the perfectly arched brows above those gorgeous hazel eyes, now hidden by lids sporting ridiculously long eyelashes that curled at the ends. His nose, thin and aquiline, was perfectly proportioned. For the first time, she noticed the merest hint of a mustache and a tiny mole just above and to the right side of pinkish-tan tinted lips.

You are one fine brother.

Pierre opened his eyes. Suddenly, unexpected. Roz was busted.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s what we journalists do, always examining, looking, probing...”

Pierre eased off the wall and took a step toward Roz. Then another. Roz’s heartbeat increased as she watched his gaze take in her face, then move lower to her lips as he licked his own.

He stopped in front of her, separated by inches.

“What are you doing?”

“Examining, searching.” He leaned forward, brushed his lips across hers. “Probing...”