Eternally Seduced(116)

He said smoothly, "I might believe you if only you don't seem too afraid to look at me right now."

Mary immediately lifted her gaze to him. "I am looking at you."

Rathe's lips tightened in an effort to control his amusement. Her  eyeballs were rolling around like crazy, never focusing more than a  fraction of a second at one place. So, yes, she was looking at him  –  but  never just long enough for her to really see him.

For a supposedly intelligent being, Mary Ashton could sure be childish.

"Mary?" he said in a very gentle tone.

"Yes?" Roll, roll, roll.

"I'll give you one last chance."

"One last chance for … what?" Roll, roll, roll.

"To look at me." He didn't wait for her to lie again. "Because if you  don't, I'm going to prove to both of us that I'm not a serial killer---"

"But you're really not a---"

"---but a serial kisser instead."

Her eyes shot up to him.

Rathe smiled in satisfaction, and with that one smile, Mary's worst fears were immediately realized.

Oh, draaaaaaaat.

Camille was right.

He was the most beautiful man on earth.

She had honestly thought it was her mind exaggerating reality, but if  anything her memories had failed to replicate just how hot he was.

He towered over her, his powerful presence lending him a godly aura that  made her feel ridiculously weak  –  the kind of weak that her stepfather  would most assuredly beat her for if he ever found out how Mary was  feeling now.

His pinstriped suit, combined with the platinum Rolex gleaming on his  wrist, only added to his air of sophistication  –  something that seemed  to be an innate part of him. There was something about Rathe Wellesley  that no matter what he wore  –  no matter if he did not have a stitch of  clothing on him  –  he would still be the epitome of elegance.

Was he going to be just as elegant even while making love?

An involuntary gasp escaped her, the direction of her thoughts stunning  Mary even as her gaze returned to his face, drawn to it. There was a  magnetic pull coming from him that no woman could resist.

Being around Staffan and Saffi had exposed Mary to a lot of good-looking  guys, but they had never caused her to think anything so carnal. But  this … this man. Just a few words, and Mary had let him kiss her. And now,  he was looking at her in a way that made Mary want to fan herself and  drink gallons of iced-cold anything. It was just so … hot. Like, so, so,  so hot he made Mary forget ninety percent of her vocabulary and forced  her to resort to teenage crush lingo.

So. Hot. Like. Wow.

A smirk played on his lips. Those beautiful sexy lips.

"You're staring at me," he purred.

That. Voice. Gah.

She mumbled, "You told me to look at you."

Her words were unexpected, and her accusing tone made Rathe laugh out  loud  –  something he rarely did. "You remind me of how adorably crazy  Staffan's wife can be," he told her.

"Oh, no," Mary said right away even as she still couldn't help gazing at him in utter fascination. Ohmygawd. So. Hot.

Rathe raised a brow. "Oh, no … what?"         

     



 

"She's crazier than I could ever be," Mary explained.

He considered her words seriously, thought about how she called him a  "serial kisser" in public, and remembered how she promised to look at  him while turning her eyes into spinning flying saucers.

Sternly repressing the un-aristocratic grin that wanted to curve on his lips, Rathe said politely, "No comment."

Fighting off the grin became even more of a challenge when she protested almost indignantly, "I'm very ordinary."

"No, you're not, and you should be glad you are not."

Mary was startled. "Why?"

"Because if you were ordinary, I wouldn't have spent the last few days imagining I was enjoying you in my bed."

Bwerhidfbfmaqqzdjmne.

This time, she had lost the ability to be coherent, Rathe Wellesley's  words instantly making her as eloquent as a newborn baby. All she could  think was, no wonder.

After meeting him the first time, Mary hadn't been able to help  researching him online and now that she experienced the pleasure of his  presence another time, she knew that most things the media said about  him was true.

He was too gorgeous to be human. He was too sophisticated for any person  to be comfortable in his presence the first time. But one thing she  didn't believe was that Rathe Wellesley did not feel anything.

Oh, he felt.

The smoldering heat in his eyes, the sexually commanding aura he  emanated, the devastatingly wicked way his lips curved ever so slightly  at the things she said---

How could they all say that he did not feel when he did feel and, more  than that, he made her feel so peculiarly weak around him?

Mary was staring at him.

And it was in a way that made Rathe say warningly, "You must stop that."  If she kept looking at him like that, he might give her what she was  asking unconsciously with her gaze.

Rathe's words made Mary blink. Was he serious? Didn't he know how  fascinating he was? If she was made to choose between her piranha and  him, she would truly be torn.

Noticing the way her gaze flitted to something behind him, Rathe looked  over his shoulder and that was when he realized exactly what was  swimming in her fish tank. "You have a piranha in your room?"

Mary nodded in a casual way, as if she was confirming that today's weather was fine and cloudy.

He shook his head faintly. "A piranha?" This time, he couldn't help it.  He laughed out loud. It was the safer thing to do because his more  pressing urge was to reclaim her lips and find out if it tasted as sweet  and hot as he remembered. He suppressed a groan. Just one memory  –  and  now his brain was flooded with the whole lot, of how Mary's sigh was  sweet and sexy as she leaned into his kiss, of how she felt so perfect  in his arms when he had pushed her to the wall, of how beautifully she  surrendered---

Rathe fought for control over his cock. This was not fucking good. While  a part of him found Mary Ashton irresistible, the other part of him was  coolly demanding what he was doing with a woman  –  no, a bloody teenager   –  who thought piranhas made great pets and described him as a serial  kisser after one damn kiss.

Rathe looked back at Mary. She was worriedly biting her lip as she  looked at him with wary suspicion in her eyes. It was as if she was  expecting him to report her to PETA for the unlawful capture of piranhas   –  and she was ready to elope with her bloody fish if he did.

When he started to speak, he saw her stiffen nervously, and Rathe said  almost irritably, "Relax. I'm not going to eat you or your fish."

I don't believe you, her eyes answered him.

He suppressed another groan. Why was it that the more she seemed  suspicious of him, the more he found her attractive? It was so bloody  perverse he felt like he was going crazy.

His phone buzzed inside his pocket, and it served like a knock on his  head, knocking some sense back into Rathe. What the fuck was he doing  here, contemplating something that shouldn't be contemplated with  someone who wasn't even bloody old enough to be called a woman?

Mary shifted on the bed, drawing his attention back to her and Rathe saw  her silent grimace of pain when she accidentally moved her injured  ankle. He asked abruptly, "Is there someone I can call to check up on  you?" He hated that he had to ask, hated that he cared enough to do so.

She desperately wanted to lie, but she just couldn't make herself do so. She said reluctantly, "Not really."

"Then you'll be alone here for the entire weekend?"

She nodded slowly. "But I'm not really alone. I'll be with my fish---"

"---that's likely to bite your finger if you try to feed it," he countered dryly.

Mary said defensively, "I'm training it to be a vegetarian."

Rathe choked.

She insisted, "It can be done."

Seeing the stubborn look on her face, he knew it would be pointless  reasoning with her. Before he could speak, Rathe's phone buzzed again  and he knew it was likely his secretary, panicking because he was  supposed to be in a charity event  –  ten minutes ago.

Rathe walked towards the door.

Was he leaving? Just like that? Mary bit her lip, telling herself she  was not bothered by it. This was how her life was supposed to be  –   uncomplicated.

Rathe paused as he reached the doorway.

She held her breath.

Rathe opened the door, and as he did Camille almost crashed into him. It  was obvious on her face that she had her ear pressed to the door for  quite a long while.

Camille quickly straightened herself, saying breezily, "I was just checking on my friend."

Of course she was. But all Rathe did was smile politely and say, "I'm  glad that she has someone looking after her. I feel responsible for what  happened." There was a dull roar inside his mind, making him feel damn  guilty, like he was abandoning Mary.

But he wasn't, Rathe told himself fiercely. This had to stop now.