The Price of Scandal by Kim Lawrence Read Free Book Online Page A

over-the-top reaction, Severo concluded, was the result of the adrenaline still flooding his bloodstream; either that or there was something about this woman that made him regress fifteen years. It had been a long time since his libido had strained this hard at the leash of his iron control.
    His amused attitude made Neve feel like a gauche teenager.
    ‘Take the rest of your stuff off. I’ll get some towels.’
    Neve stared at him incredulously. Was the man serious?
    ‘I’m not taking anything off.’
    He gave a very Latin shrug and flashed a wolfish grin, not appearing to notice her non-negotiable tone. Still smiling in the same stomach-flipping way, he looked down into her heart-shaped face and shrugged.
    ‘Fine. If you’re not up to the task, I’ll do it for you.’
    Neve closed her mouth over the you wouldn’t dare that leapt to her lips, recognising that such a statement might seem an invitation to a certain sort of man, and watched him bound energetically up the stairs—he was almost definitely that sort of man.
    As she closed her eyes the image of his strong hands peeling off her clothes began to play in her head. It was the little kick of excitement mixed in with the horror that made her decide there was no point in taking the risk and calling his bluff.
    Slowed by her cold, stiff fingers, she had clumsily managed to strip down to her bra, her wet jeans she’d managed to get halfway down her numb legs, when she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
    She picked up the blanket and hastily draped the folds of tartan wool fabric around her shoulders.
    She felt her chest tighten as she watched, her heart pounding, as he walked across the room towards her. He was obviously not similarly inhibited when it came to stripping.
    His wet outer clothes, at least from the waist down, had been replaced. A pair of worn blue denims that were a couple of inches too short in the leg and a few more inches too wide around the waist now covered his legs. He hadn’t bothered fastening the belt and they had slid down to his narrow hips, revealing his flat belly and a directional arrow of dark hair.
    Neve struggled not to follow the direction it pointed in.
    But there was no safe place to look because above the waist he was naked except for a towel looped around his neck. His sleek bronzed upper body had the most incredible muscle definition she had ever seen, broad shoulders, flat abdomen.
    Neve tried to look anywhere but at his lean muscled torso and failed miserably, conscious of a dragging liquid sensation low in her abdomen as she stared.
    She was ashamed of her helpless physical response to him but at least he appeared oblivious to her discomfort—she hoped!
    Meeting her wary gaze, he placed the pile of towels he carried on a chair. His glance dropped to the jeans concertinaed around her ankles. The little beads of sweat along her upper lip suggested that she had been struggling in his absence.
    Severo felt something break free inside him, something that felt suspiciously like tenderness.
    ‘You’re going to have to accept a little help, cara .’ Without waiting for her response—it would obviously be negative; the woman took self-reliance to unattractive extremes—he dropped to his knees in front of her and, sliding his hands under the blanket, began to ease the wet, heavy denim down her legs.
    Neve looked down at the dark head of the kneeling man. She didn’t move, she didn’t breathe—not until, having completed his task, he laid a hand against her calf. Then her control snapped and she flinched away, unable to bear the sensations crawling under her skin.
    He swore. ‘You’re like ice.’ He began to rub her bare legs vigorously with his hands, working his way up from her slender ankles, over her calves to her knees. His touch made her stomach muscles quiver violently with tension.
    ‘Can you even feel me?’
    ‘Not much…’ she lied, thinking, If only , as she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed. Despite