Watching him had become something of a not-so-secret pleasure in the last few weeks. On cue, she experienced the slow drag of desire in her belly as her gaze drifted over the sensual curve of his lips, the unshaven rasp of his jaw and the strong column of his throat to the muscled bare torso which she’d caressed to her heart’s content last night and this morning. As if sensing her gaze, his eyes met hers over the top of the paper. One brow lifted. ‘You want to go back to bed?’ He laughed at her less-than-convincing shake of the head. The remnants of breakfast lay scattered on the table, long forgotten as they basked in the South Korean sun. ‘I didn’t know you could read Korean,’ she said, eager for something to distil the suffocating heat of the desire that was never far from the surface. Marco smiled and folded away the paper. ‘It’s Japanese. I never quite mastered Korean.’ ‘Wow. You’re freely admitting another flaw? Shocking!’ He shrugged. ‘It was down to a choice of which was the most useful.’ She wrinkled her nose.
