Cupcakes and Killer Heels Read Online Free PDF

until all she could hear was the hammer of her own heartbeat and the low murmur of his voice, whispering across her sensitised skin. ‘But the question is, do they taste as good as you?’
    She watched transfixed as he raised her hand to his mouth and bit softly into the pad of flesh on the base of her thumb. The shot of heat pounded into her breasts making them peak painfully against her push-up bra.
    The breath lodged in her throat.
    The line was corny, cheesy even—and from the mocking twist of his lips she guessed he knew it. But she was struggling to breathe, so scoffing was out of the question.
    The sound of the bar came flooding back as Chantelle’s arrival broke the spell. Her friend laid out their order on the table, then shot Ruby a teasing wink. Studiously ignoring the rush of blood to her cheeks, Ruby took a hasty sip of her margarita as her friend strolled off. The sweet icy tang of citrus, triple sec and tequila felt like nectar as it slid down her raw throat.
    Cal saluted her with the frosty bottle of lager before bringing it to his lips. Her gaze landed on the strong column of his throat as he swallowed and she began to feel lightheaded.
    Holy moley. He is too hot to handle.
    Unfortunately, just looking at those long fingers gripping the neck of the bottle and the sheen of sweat on his Adam’s apple was making her feel euphoric. And more aroused than she had been in months. She’d been so careful lately, so cautious. But as the pounding salsa beat throbbed through her veins and she watched Cal drink thirstily Ruby felt her inhibitions float up and fly off across the Lock into the sultry summer night.
    What the heck? She didn’t intend to fall at his feet, but surely there was no harm in having fun for one night. It had been so long since she’d had the chance to indulge her inner flirt to the full. And frankly, Callum Westmore came in such a mouth-watering package, he was fast becoming too hot not to handle.

CHAPTER FOUR
    ‘R UBY, are you trying to lead again?’ Callum teased, his breath making her earlobe tingle. ‘Because I may have to show you who’s boss.’
    ‘I’d like to see you try,’ Ruby quipped, then laughed and clung on as he swung her round.
    His answering chuckle made her head spin as he dipped her over his arm for one tantalising second. ‘Consider yourself shown.’
    She inhaled a lung full of the woody scent of his soap masked by the hint of fresh male sweat—and basked in the sultry rhythm of the salsa as he whisked her upright. His arm banded around her waist so tight she could feel every single inch of his hard, lean physique.
    He was a good dancer. An exceptionally good dancer. Not only did he know the steps, but he moved with a fluid, natural grace unencumbered by his height, throwing her into the spins and dips with masterful strength and confidence.
    Unfortunately, after two margaritas, only a nibble of the spicy tapas dishes and an hour of full-on flirting, Ruby was finding it impossible to concentrate on the dance, instead of all the parts of her body that were throbbing with need.
    The desire to feel those hard, callused fingers on her naked skin—to lick the divot of his throat and taste the salty aroma of his sweat—overwhelmed her and her intoxication had nothing to do with the heady cocktails or the lack of food.
    A small voice in her head kept telling her that he’d engineered this, that he’d been stoking the need all evening. Making her feel like the only woman in the bar with those long penetrating looks; tempting her as his gaze flicked to her mouth every time she licked dry lips; goading her as they vied for top spot in a seductive game of one-upmanship.
    And now he was sealing his conquest in time-honoured tradition by holding her body close and leading her in a sensual dance of challenge and retreat. Promise and provocation.
    But the more she breathed in his scent; the more she felt the muscles bunch beneath the fine cotton of his shirt; the more the