suit.”
“Drama queen? I don’t think so.” She moved closer and pointed her index finger at him. “You’re just so typically male. Whenever there’s a situation that makes you uncomfortable or that you can’t handle, you go for the easy putdown. The chick insults. Do you feel more like a man now?”
She breathed fury. He could see she wanted to hit him—or at least throw him out.
“Kind of,” he said with a grin.
Then acting rather than thinking, he grabbed her upper arms, pulled her up against him and kissed her.
He felt her shock and half expected her to push him away. For a moment there was nothing but the warmth of her mouth on his and the heat flaring between them. He braced himself for rejection, but it never came. Instead she tilted her head slightly and kissed him back.
Nothing intimate, he thought, enjoying the softness of her lips as they brushed against his. She shrugged her arms free of his hold and put her hands on his shoulders.
He breathed in the scent of her body. The outdoors, the faint fruitiness of the wine and a feminine sweetness that was unique to her.
He rested the tips of his fingers on her waist and slowly moved to her back. She felt different than Stacey. Shorter, curvier. At the thought of his late wife, he prepared to drown in memories and guilt. But there was nothing inside of him but a growing hunger.
He shifted his hands higher, then slipped one up the back of her neck so he could bury his fingers in her short, silky hair. At the same time she erased the final step that separated them.
Her body pressed against his from shoulders to knees. His first impression was of heat and curves. Her breasts burned against his chest. Every cell of his body cried out for him to touch her. To feel the smooth, soft flesh, to taste her nipples and listen to her moan in pleasure. It had been four years since he’d been with a woman, but he remembered everything he wanted to do. It flashed into his mind, an X-rated movie starring the woman in his arms.
Knowing that wasn’t going to happen, he focused on their kiss. He moved to her jaw and kissed his way to her earlobe. Once there, he drew in the bit of flesh and nibbled until she sighed and her grip on him tightened. Her skin was soft and hot and tempting in ways he’d never imagined. The sound of her breathing filled him with need.
He moved down her neck, going slowly, kissing his way to the open vee of her sweater. Only when he’d felt her heart pounding did he return his attention to her mouth.
She opened for him immediately. He slipped inside and when his tongue touched hers, he felt a jolt clear down to his groin. The wanting grew until it was an inescapable pulsing. He was hard and ready. He wanted her. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her body. He wanted to make her writhe and scream and come, then he wanted to start at the beginning and do it again.
Crissy drew back slightly and stared at him. Passion darkened her eyes. “Wow,” she whispered. “That was some kiss.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“‘Liked’ doesn’t come close.” She moved her hands down his arms, then dropped them to her sides. “I want to blame the wine, but I haven’t had more than a sip.”
“Me, either.”
“So it’s emotional intensity and chemistry?”
He didn’t know what it was. The only thing he was clear on was that his body had come back to life and it felt damn good to be hard.
“It just is,” he told her.
“Very profound for a guy who doesn’t do touchy feely,” she told him.
“I have untapped depths.”
“I can tell.”
He knew he should leave. She’d been through a lot today and probably needed some time to process everything.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You going to be okay?”
“Sure. I’m a little shell-shocked, but I’ll recover.”
“You’ll get used to being around Brandon,” he said.
“I was actually talking about you.”
That made him smile. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. You had me close to screaming ‘take me now, big guy.” ’
She had his full attention. “How close?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
But he wanted to know. He wanted her to tell him that he wasn’t the only one interested in the erotic next step.
She pressed her hand to his chest. “You are very unexpected, Josh Daniels. You’re a good man and an amazing kisser. Seriously you should have a plaque or something.”
He covered her hand with his, then drew her fingers up so that he could kiss them. He pressed his lips to the center of her palm and watched as her eyes dilated.
“I should go,” he murmured against her flesh.
“Yes, you should.”
She didn’t sound exactly convinced.
“Or I could stay.” He hadn’t planned to say that, but as soon as he did, he knew that’s what he wanted. To be with her. Alive for a single night.
She drew in a breath. “Staying would work, too.”
It was all the invitation he needed. He drew her against him and pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him, rubbing her belly against his hardness. The friction felt good—right. He wanted more. He wanted to bury himself inside of her and explode, but that was for later. Right now he had a plan.
He slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She brushed against him, matching his intensity, circling him, driving him to the edge. He explored her back, then slipped his hands over the curve of her butt. He squeezed and she arched against him.
The movements of the age-old dance returned to him. Slowly he drew up the hem of her sweater, then pulled the garment over her head and tossed it on the coffee table. But instead of going right for her breasts—which was really what he wanted to do—he pressed his mouth against her now bare left wrist.
Using his tongue, his lips and his teeth, he teased, kissed and nibbled his way to the inside of her elbow. There he circled the sensitive spot until she gave a half-giggle, half-moan that made him smile. He repeated the action on her other arm.
When her breathing came in pants he asked, “Which way to the bedroom?”
She took his hand in hers and pulled him down a short hall and into the first door on the right. She touched a switch on the wall. A small lamp on a dressing table came on, illuminating the feminine space.
The room was done in various shades of pink. Light pink on the walls, a deep rose on the bed. It was the most girly space he’d ever seen and a contrast to Crissy’s take-charge
