Suzanne Trent was forced into an embrace that was unusually warm, impossible to ignore.
She didn't resist nor struggle, even though she didn't regret it, she indeed didn't know what to continue doing.
The man in front of her clearly didn't give her an opportunity to think, he almost stole all her breath, with one hand imprisoning her waist, the other holding her neck, resting on her forehead. He didn't let her go, nor did he give her any room to retreat. His dark eyes in the dimly lit car gazed at her, peering into her clear, brave eyes that betrayed a hint of unease.
She clearly hadn't drink anything, but she didn't know if it was due to the atmosphere or perhaps she had consumed a few glasses earlier. Although she wasn't drunk, her body temperature gradually rose under his intense gaze in the darkness.
The man suddenly chuckled from his chest, a sound almost imperceptible but sensually husky, that left Suzanne flustered, just like the meaning of her name.