might have come from her mouth, but she couldn’t be sure. John uttered a low groan and gathered her so tightly in his arms she thought she might disappear into him completely. She wanted to say something but she couldn’t make a sound, just little gasps that burst from her lips onto the hot skin of his shoulder as he clung to her.
“Am I crushing you?” John eased himself off her slightly by propping himself on his elbows.
“No.” His powerful physique felt no heavier than a down comforter, enveloping her in its warmth. “You feel fantastic.”
“You, too.” He kissed her so softly she almost wanted to cry.
Cry? Strange emotions suddenly welled up inside her. She didn’t even really know what had happened. Was that an orgasm? She’d read about them but had never come close to experiencing one before. Her body still pulsed and tingled with the aftereffects. Her heart squeezed and she held John close. She felt incredibly intimate with him right now. Which wasn’t surprising, considering that they were both naked in his bed.
On his bed. With the lights on.
Her eyes cracked open as she managed to regain some grip on her consciousness. They hadn’t even taken the time to climb under the covers. In fact, they weren’t even at the right end of the bed.
She swallowed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. John stroked a tendril of damp hair from her forehead. “You’re very passionate, Constance.”
Coming from his mouth, her dull and prim name seemed sensual and evocative. “So are you, John.” His name was even duller than hers, and he was the most exciting and intriguing man she’d ever met. Apparently names didn’t have too much to do with anything.
“Let’s get under the covers.” A smile shone in his eyes.
“Okay.” She let him lift her, her body feeling almost weightless in his strong embrace, and slide her under the soft white covers. Then he settled next to her and wrapped his arms around her. A soft kiss on her cheek felt so romantic she thought for a second that she must be dreaming.
She wasn’t, though. There was no way she could conjure the intoxicating scent of his skin in a dream. Or the slightly rough feel of his cheek against hers, or the sparkle of amusement—and passion—in his eyes. This was real, and it was happening to her, Constance Allen, right here, right now.
“I really don’t know how I ended up here.” She felt like being honest.
“It’s the most natural thing in the world. Two people being attracted to each other and wanting to be together.”
“I don’t get why you’re attracted to me, though.” No doubt any dating manual would issue stern warnings against such a blatant display of insecurity. But she couldn’t help wondering what John Fairweather saw in her.
He wanted her, there was no doubt about that. She could feel it in the way he looked at her, in the way he made love to her, in the way he held her close, his breath on her cheek.
“I don’t know where you’ve gotten the idea that you’re not desirable. You’re a beautiful woman.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb.
“I am not! I’m quite ordinary looking.”
“Who told you that? You have the prettiest hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. So curious and a little wary. When you look at me I get a jolt of something I can’t explain.”
Her eyes? “But I wear glasses. Where are they, anyway?”
“On the chest over there. I made sure to put them somewhere safe.”
“I don’t even remember taking them off.” She reached automatically for her nose, where she usually pushed them up.
“You didn’t. I did.” His smile made her smile—as usual. “Apparently you can see pretty well without them.”
“I just need them for reading. They’re a mild prescription.” She could see John clearly enough right now, his dark eyes peering into hers.
“So how come you wear them all the time?”
She shrugged, or attempted to, in his arms. “I feel more comfortable with them on. Then I don’t have to worry about taking them on and off to read. I do spend a lot of time reading, even if it’s mostly numbers.”
“Something to hide behind. I don’t think you’re comfortable with your own beauty.”
She laughed. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with much of anything, except doing my job to the best of my ability. And right now I’m not doing so well with that, either.”
“Because you’re sleeping with the subject of your investigation?”
“Who’s sleeping?”
He chuckled. “Do you feel guilty?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
“For seducing you? No, I don’t feel at all guilty. Like I said, it’s the most natural thing in the world for two people who are drawn to each other to enjoy each other’s company.”
Of course it was, to him. That’s why he had so many girlfriends. He probably never said no when he saw something, or someone, he wanted. “My boss would kill me if she knew I was in bed with you right now.”
“She won’t find out.” He lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
No. She wouldn’t. This little...affair—because there was no better word for it—had to be kept under wraps. Which meant it was wrong.
If Constance had any sense she’d push John off her right now and run screaming back to her hotel.
But she didn’t want to. She wanted to lie here in his arms, to feel his rough cheek against hers. To enjoy the warm, protective embrace of his strong arms and his satisfied sigh in her ear. In fact she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so completely relaxed and content.
She’d spent too many lonely nights in her bedroom. Too many solitary hours dreaming of moments like this. Everyone, including her own parents, thought she had no feelings at all. That she lived to work. That her brain was filled with numbers and spreadsheets and she spent all her spare time doing elaborate computations. But she was just like everyone else, though she hid it well. She craved companionship, romance, love.
Love? Well, she wasn’t going to find that with John Fairweather. A tiny stab of regret poked at her heart. She could probably fall in love with him quite easily on the briefest acquaintance. Despite his reputation as a callous, money-orientated playboy, she’d learned he was a man of principle who put those principles into practice every day. The media was so wrong about him. Or maybe they were jealous. She could now grow quite angry thinking about the callous things she’d read about him and the tribe.
“Your heart’s beating faster.” His gruff voice tickled something deep inside her.
“I was just thinking about how wrong everyone is about you.”
He laughed. “Are they, though? I don’t lose a single moment of sleep worrying what other people think. I don’t care about them
