Page 157 of Sins of the Heart
dreams. Mercury gray. Both bright and opaque at once.
Rimmed by dark brown lashes. Cold as a high mountain lake or an endless icy abyss.
For the briefest instant, his gaze warmed as it slid
along her features, nose, chin, down to her toes and up
again. That warmth reached inside her and unloaded a
king-size carton of confusion.
She slapped it back, holding out for her chance.
She needed to get away from him, but there was no
sense wasting energy. She would lose in a match of
brute strength.
Cunning is better than angry.
So she offered no resistance as he switched his grip
from her waist to her wrists. Squelching the urge to
squirm and writhe against his hold, she forced herself
to be still, to watch for her chance. He’d secured her
hands. He had no idea what she could do with her
knees.
But the way his eyes narrowed warned her that he
didn’t trust her acquiescence.
“Figured you for the type who’d prefer the dark,”
she muttered, tipping her head toward the chandelier.
“You figured right. Dark works for me. But unlike
you—” he shot her an unreadable look “—I’m trying
to be accommodating. I figured you for the type who
prefers the light.”
“Slamming me against a wall and yanking out my
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hair is being accommodating?” She’d hate to see him
being disobliging. “You’re killing me with kindness.”
