"Stop fighting it," Lucas growled, soft and low, his abrasive accent purring along the syllables. Layla glanced up. ‘Fighting what?’ "This..." And he reached for her, pulling her up against his big, powerful frame with easy strength. In unmistakeable contact with the long, hard length of his erection, Layla’s tummy flipped and her knees turned to water. Dangerous heat shimmied between her legs. "It’s crazy" "The most powerful craving I’ve ever felt," Lucas sliced in. ‘I felt it the first time I saw you. I fought it to let you walk away. But I’m done being sensible.’ Completely disconcerted by that blunt admission, Layla parted dry lips. ‘But—’ 'No... buts, meli mou,' Lucas husked against her cheek, fanning her parted lips with his breath."The words you’re looking for are Yes, Lucas." Lucas laid her down on a wide bed. "I want you to know that I didn’t bring you here for this," he breathed rawly. ‘I didn’t plan it.’ "I intended for us to sit down over a civilized dinner and talk," Lucas grated impatiently, stepping back from the bed as if he didn’t trust himself that close to her. But I can’t keep my hands off of you!’