far the most lucrative one—dealt with rarities of unparalleled value. So he recognized the uniqueness of the woman who was bent on leaving, even if he couldn’t have described where the quality came from.
Bracing his hands on either side of the entrance, he leaned in for a taste of her. If this was the last time he’d see her, he’d damn well have this much.
He pressed her lips apart with his, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, and felt the hunger lunge inside him. His fingers clenched on the open elevator doors. It took physical effort to keep from reaching for her. Her flavor was foreign, an intoxicating mixture of desire and caution, but there was a response there to match his own.
Kindred spirits. The phrase drifted across his mind, even awash as it was in a fog of frustrated lust. Something in him recognized a part of her, a part she would have denied existed. Most solitary people were that way by nature, or became so by circumstances.
Then there were people like them, he thought, who allowed circumstance to dictate nature, until the two were so entwined it was impossible to say where one left off and the other began.
Ria gave in to a rare moment of self-indulgence and opened her mouth beneath his. He knew how to kiss a woman, with a single-minded intensity that stripped them both down to their most elemental levels, male and female. He knew how to take while still giving riotous pleasure, sensual hints of the erotic satisfaction to be had if she let passion have its way.
This wouldn’t be an easy man to walk away from, although she had every intention of doing just that. But one taste couldn’t hurt, could it? Even if it whipped her blood to churning whitecaps and incinerated her control? Every move she made in life was calculated, with the benefits and risks carefully weighed. Stealing a few minutes with an exciting stranger seemed relatively harmless.
But there was nothing harmless about the flames licking through her veins. Absorbing his intoxicating taste was like diving headlong into dark fire.
Without conscious thought she moved closer and caught his full lower lip in her teeth. Scoring it lightly, she felt a measure of restraint slip away. His answering kiss was hard, demanding, but he made no further move toward her. The muscles in the wall of his chest were bunched tightly, his hands still pressed against the open doors.
Emboldened, she leaned against him, took the kiss deeper. How long had it been, she thought fuzzily, since she’d last felt a fever in the blood, temptation stripping layers off her defenses? Had she ever?
This scorching heat was its own kind of seduction for a woman who spent her life—what she could remember of it—in the cold. It was unlikely their paths would cross again. The idea was tantalizing. Despite the shadowy aura of danger that surrounded him, there was something soothing in his very anonymity.
The rationalization shredded caution, struck down logic. He angled his mouth over hers, the pressure almost punishing. The purse and T-shirt dropped from her hands, and she slid her arms around his neck.
The restraint he’d been exerting snapped abruptly. She was pulled against him, the move shattering any sense that she could control this. The kiss turned rawly primitive, even as he walked her backward to press her against the wall of the elevator, sealing their bodies together. Currents of electricity sizzled and crackled between them. One of his hands settled at her nape as his mouth ravished hers, as if to coax her even closer, and he widened his stance so that she was standing between his legs.
He tore his mouth away from hers to bury it at her throat. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you.” His voice was low, harsh.
“I know.” Her answer was nearly a moan, as she arched her neck to allow him better access.
“You, too?”
There was a part of her that wanted to withhold assent, but that would have been pointless. He was a man experienced enough to recognize that the instant attraction that had sparked between them was mutual. And her response to him now was its own answer. “Yes—”
The word stopped on a gasp when he nipped at the sensitive cord of her neck. His tongue soothed the sting in the next instant. “So stay.”
It was a demand rather than a plea, and the carnal promise implicit in it made her stomach clutch. He knew exactly how to touch her, his mouth slightly rough, his palm burning the bare skin of her nape, his fingers tangling in her hair. As close as they were, she could feel the unmistakable hard ridge of his erection pressing against the notch between her thighs. She wouldn’t have to hold back with him; she could respond with every bit of the explosive arousal churning through her, and he would meet it, match it. But still she was vaguely surprised to hear herself answer, “For a while.”
A low sound was torn from him. She felt cool air against her skin and realized dimly that he’d unknotted her ruined shirt. With a quick jerk he had it open, the remaining buttons flying, and his impatience called to a streak of wildness in her, one she was usually careful to keep deeply buried.
There was so little in her life she could claim as her own. Only memories garnered from the last six years. Certainly not her identity, which she’d stolen from another. But this moment was hers. Personal and genuine, it was hers to keep, to remember, to experience to the fullest.
His tongue was tracing the mounds of her breasts where they swelled above the top of her bra as he pushed the blouse from her shoulders, to pool forgotten on the floor of the elevator. Her hands went to his shirt, jerking it impatiently from the waistband of his pants, her fingers flying over the buttons.
When she had them undone, she smiled, satisfied, her breath coming a little faster. The wall of his chest was firm, muscled and bisected by a patch of dark hair. His stomach was hard and ridged. He’d work out, she thought, for the same reason she did—to keep instincts alert and body prepared for whatever dangers awaited. But whatever the reason, the sight of all those well-honed muscles sharpened her desire to a keen edge.
His hands were undoing the clasp of her bra when she leaned forward, tested one hard pec with her teeth. His flesh jumped beneath her lips. Her sudden surge of satisfaction at his involuntary reaction fractured in the next moment when he pulled the straps of her bra down her arms and tossed it aside. Bending his head, he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked strongly.
Colors pinwheeled against her closed eyelids. Her knees went to water. His mouth worked at her ravenously, one hand kneading her other breast, his thumb flicking across her nipple to urge it to a tauter point.
Her muscles took on the consistency of melting wax. To brace herself, she hooked a leg around his hips. With increasing urgency she battled with his shirt, pushing it off his heavy shoulders, over his bulging biceps. Because he wouldn’t release her, it remained trapped there, halfway down his arms. Her palms raced over the expanse of flesh she’d bared, exploring the different textures of smooth skin and crisp hair over unforgiving bone and sinew.
There was a primal sort of sensuality to be enjoyed through touch alone. Her hands roamed his torso, discovering every angle and hollow. She traced the shallow indentations between his ribs, scraped a nail over his nipple and was rewarded by his quick shudder.
He raised his head, and when the cool air struck her nipple, still wet from his mouth, she shivered. With quick movements, he struggled out of his shirt, then put both hands under her butt to lift her. Ria clasped her legs around his waist and he carried her that way back into his apartment, swinging the door closed behind them.
Their mouths did battle, tongues darting, teeth clashing as hunger mounted. She slid her hands into his hair
