some gin.”
He uncapped the bottle. “All right, back to dinner. Any preference?”
“I’m easy. You?”
His mouth started to slowly curve. “You’d be amazed how easy I am.”
She flushed at his teasing, knowing if she lobbed the ball back into the same court, there would be no dinner. Nope, she wasn’t ready quite yet.
“I’ll check in the kitchen for takeout menus.”
His shoulders sagged just enough to let her know he understood. Poor guy. She knew she was sending him mixed signals.
She headed for the kitchen, anxious to escape his probing eyes. “As I mentioned, I just moved in. And since it’s a temporary arrangement…”
“Then what will you do?”
“Depends on what job I get.” She found two menus held to the side of the refrigerator with magnets. “Chinese or Italian do anything for you?”
“Either one.”
At the sound of his voice right behind her, she started. “Would you quit sneaking up on me?”
He handed her the gin and tonic. “I didn’t think I had.”
“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been—”
“A bad day. I know.” He took her free hand. “Come here.”
She let him guide her to the living room, her heart beginning a slow steady beat. Then he took her drink and urged her to sit down. After placing both their glasses on the coffee table, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and sat beside her.
“Turn around,” he said.
It took her a moment to realize what he wanted. The second she’d shifted and her back was to him, he pushed her hair aside and then started kneading the tension at the base of her neck. This man definitely had done this before. With his strong fingers, he followed the cords of muscle, applying the right amount of pressure to make her sigh with pure bliss.
“I assume I’m getting the correct spots,” he said in a husky voice, his breath skimming her sensitized skin.
“Oh, baby.”
He slid his hand down her upper arms, and she felt his lips on the side of her neck. She closed her eyes, allowing the pleasure of his touch to wash over her.
Right now, this second, with her eyes closed and the tension easing out of her shoulders, it all seemed like a dream. How many nights had she lain awake in her tiny Manhattan studio apartment, imagining that he was with her, both of them naked, him running his palms over her body?
Her fantasies had been so intense they’d actually elicited dreams so vivid she had barely been able to meet his eyes the next day in the office. And now he was here. Touching her with his strong, capable hands, his warm breath on her neck and his hard body there for the taking. Making her wet and wanting. Maybe…
Oh, don’t let it be a…
He dispelled any possibility that this wasn’t real by crossing his arms over her breasts and pulling her back to lie against his chest. She clutched his forearm, and he apparently misunderstood because he loosened his hold and started to retreat.
Already having screwed up the kiss earlier, she quickly pulled his arms back around her, strategically placing one of his hands over her breast. His sharp exhale stirred her hair and she smiled. He hugged her closer and began to gently knead her breast.
“Sara?”
His gruff whisper took her breath away. She didn’t speak, only tilted her head in answer.
“Look at me.”
She turned around in his arms. His lips were parted, his lids lowered so that his eyes were only slits, but there was no mistaking the smoldering gleam that told her exactly what he wanted.
He lowered his head, and she lifted her mouth to his. Even though they’d already touched, when their lips met, everything changed. A fine tingling started at the crown of her head and traveled down her spine, straight to the dampness between her thighs.
It didn’t help that he took his time, exploring the inside of her mouth with his tongue, leaving no inch untouched. This wasn’t foreplay. It was sheer torture. Exquisite pain, but still.
Unable to stand it another moment, she broke the kiss long enough to turn around. Facing him took the torture to another level. She barely recognized the man. The feral color of his eyes darkened his face, and the normally stoic expression had morphed into pure desire.
He didn’t seem in a hurry to resume the kiss. Instead, he touched her face. Gently, using the back of his hand, he stroked her cheek. And then he drew the tip of his finger across her damp lower lip before leaning in to reclaim her mouth.
She gladly submitted. The urge to touch him, and not only his face, was strong, but if she did, there would be no going back. This was it. The moment of decision. His low moan made it an easy one. As she pushed her tongue into his willing mouth, her hands moved to loosen his tie.
She felt the change in his kiss. They had crossed the border into uncharted territory. It took her a minute, but she finally got his tie undone. He, on the other hand, was far more dexterous and had her blouse all but unbuttoned. She yanked his shirt from his waistband. He did the same with her blouse.
Some part of her brain still persisted in worrying that they were going too fast. That they should talk more, get to know one another better. Then his knuckle lightly caressed her nipple.
“Oh, Sara,” he whispered, pulling back to look at what he’d just touched.
She gave a silent thanks for push-up technology before she got busy taking off his shirt, only to be disappointed that he was an undershirt kind of guy. Not that she hated undershirts, but she really wanted skin. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable without that T-shirt?”
The corners of his mouth twitched as he reached for the hem. He pulled off the T-shirt, and she could only stare. She knew by feel that he was in great shape, but my, oh, my. This man definitely took good care of himself.
“Your turn.” He didn’t wait, but pushed the front of her blouse open. He ran his gaze from her breasts down to her belly. She’d barely had time to suck it in. “As pretty as that bra is,” he said as he pushed the blouse off her shoulders, “I’d like it off.”
The silk fabric slid down her back. “I’m sure you know how to handle that.”
A slow sexy smile curved his mouth and within seconds he unfastened the front clasp and tossed her bra atop his jacket.
4
H ER BREASTS were small and perfect all the way to the pink tips. He’d been hard for the last ten minutes; if he didn’t unzip his fly soon, there’d be damage. And pain. When was the last time he’d wanted a woman like this?
It
