'What would you like to drink?'
He asked me, facing down to look at me, and stiffened.
But Vincent's behaviour was not what I had imagined.
I had thought he would sweep her into his arms and make mad, passionate love to me.
How naive was that? I castigated herself.
He's a sophisticated man of the world, a man of discernment; of course, he would never behave so crassly, I thought. But I was wrong again.
'I'll—' I was going to ask for a glass of juice, but I never got the chance.
'To hell with a drink,' he growled, and he reached for me in a couple of lithe strides and hauled me hard against his chest.
His expert mouth swooped down to capture mine; a soft moan escaped me, and, taking full advantage, his tongue slipped between my parted lips with a devastating effect.
I don't know what hit me.