Good with His Hands. Tanya Michaels

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Good with His Hands - Tanya  Michaels

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Dani’s couch with her tucked against him—he wasn’t sure he would ever catch his breath again. Should his heart still be pounding against his rib cage? At least the spots in his vision were clearing, which made it easier to appreciate the view of the naked brunette in his arms. Technically, they were both too tall for the sofa, but even given the awkwardness of his legs hanging over the side, he was surprisingly comfortable.

      Dani’s head rested on his chest. She sighed happily. “That was...”

      “Very athletic of us. I wonder if the Olympic committee has ever considered adding couch sex as an event.”

      “You’d definitely be on the medal podium.”

      “Both of us,” he corrected. “Pairs event. Singles isn’t nearly as much fun.”

      “Or as sweaty.” She propped herself up on one arm. “I’m feeling pretty sticky. Care to join me in the shower?”

      There was the slightest note of shyness in her invitation, which he found endearing. It was difficult to imagine such a forthright, sensual woman feeling bashful. But forthright didn’t mean invulnerable. He recalled the flash of emotion in her gaze when she’d confessed that her ex-fiancé had eloped with someone else.

      “I would love to join you, assuming I can still move.” He wiggled his toes experimentally.

      She unfolded herself from their tangle of limbs, raising her arms over her head and stretching her spine. Then she stood, grinning over her shoulder. “I’ll try to save you some hot water, but I can’t make any promises. It doesn’t last long.”

      Watching her stroll across the room, her nude body outlined by the illumination coming through the window, helped him rediscover his energy.

      She’d left her bedroom dark as she passed through, but light spilled from the bathroom. It was pretty basic—navy towels that matched small area rugs and a clear shower curtain imprinted with dark blue swirls. With the exception of the curling iron and cosmetics on the counter, he wouldn’t have guessed the room belonged to a woman. His ex had fancy soaps no one was allowed to use, lace-edged washcloths and scented candles on a shelf above her tub. She’d also favored lots of sweet-smelling potpourri; visiting her apartment was like being trapped inside a raspberry. Dani didn’t need pastel throw pillows or ruffled curtains to highlight her femininity—it was stamped on every curve of her body, from her lush lips to the graceful arch of her foot.

      Standing beneath the spray of water, she smiled at him through the translucent curtain. “Here to wash my back?”

      “Something like that.” He stepped over the side of the tub, joining her.

      Squeezing into the narrow bathtub was like cuddling on the couch all over again—crowded, yet not uncomfortable. He liked being here with her. Too bad you won’t be with her much longer. The thought was a dark whisper in his mind, an unpleasant reminder that their time was limited. When he told her the truth tomorrow...

      “Here.” He reached for the shampoo bottle she held. “Let me.” He squeezed some of the citrusy shampoo into his palm and worked it into a lather.

      With the water temporarily taming her curls, her hair hung even longer than it had dry. He took his time, massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through each strand, enjoying her soft mmm of contentment. She was gratifyingly vocal, making it easy for a guy to tell when he was doing something right.

      After he’d finished with both the shampoo and conditioner, she turned in his arms, snuggling against him as she dotted kisses along his collarbone. “That felt good. I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed.”

      “What can I say? Making you feel good is addictive.” He tipped her chin up with his finger and kissed her. With their earlier urgency somewhat mellowed, this kiss was slow and leisurely. The sex had been incredible but, in retrospect, he wished he’d taken more time to explore her body, to find all the secret places that made her moan and writhe.

      He straightened abruptly, reaching for the bottle of body oil on the shower shelf. “You know, you should never underestimate the importance of moisturizing.” He started to pour the liquid into his palm, then changed his mind, drizzling it directly across her shoulders and chest.

      Her earlier lassitude was gone, her dreamy expression replaced by an eager gleam in her gaze. How was it possible for someone’s eyes to be so dark and so bright at the same time? He rubbed the satiny oil in lazy circles across her skin. When he caressed the undersides of her breasts, her head fell back, lips parted on a noiseless sigh.

      He brushed a thumb over one taut peak. “I didn’t get the chance, earlier, to taste you here.” An oversight he meant to correct immediately. He bent his head, swirling his tongue around her nipple, then sucking hard.

      She made a sound low in her throat that reverberated off the tile walls. If it weren’t for his realization that the water pelting his skin was turning increasingly cool, he could happily stay here for hours. Reluctantly, he let her go.

      “You weren’t kidding about the short-lived hot water,” he complained. “If we don’t get out of here, we’re going to turn into popsicles.”

      “Told you,” she said ruefully. As she drew back the shower curtain, she added, “It’s probably just as well. I’m starting to get light-headed from hunger. Not that I was thinking about food while you were... With your mouth on me, I can’t think at all.”

      “We’ll have to test that theory later. There are other places I still haven’t had the chance to kiss you,” he drawled, his voice full of wicked intent.

      She stilled, her eyes wide and her cheeks rosy with color. It took considerable willpower not to scoop her up and carry her to the bed in the next room. But then she blinked, shaking off her reverie and grabbing an oversize blue towel. She handed him a matching one.

      Wrapping herself in terry cloth, she tucked in the corner so that it formed a mini-dress. “I really am starving. Three beers and a handful of chips does not a dinner make.”

      “You sure?” He secured his own towel around his waist. “I have a number of buddies who would consider that fine dining.”

      “I just hope I have actual groceries. I put in what feels like a hundred hours of work this week.”

      Including going to the office on a Saturday. “Are you always so driven, or were you going out of your way to stay busy?” he asked tactfully. The days leading up to the aborted wedding must have been tough.

      “Both. My colleagues call me ambitious.”

      He managed not to wince at the word. Once she knew more about him, would she share his ex’s opinion—that Sean was going nowhere simply because he didn’t wear expensive suits to work? He was currently the lead builder on a new phase of a luxury subdivision. He’d worked before in brick and concrete neighborhoods where every house looked alike and the only landscaping attention was given to the token shrubbery surrounding the pool area and private tennis courts. This subdivision, on the other hand, had personality in addition to the community pool and clubhouse. Flowering magnolia and dogwood trees offered shade and color in generous-size yards; stately pines marched along property lines. It struck him as the kind of dream neighborhood his parents would have loved to raise him and Bryce in, had they ever been able to afford it.

      “I’ve always been goal oriented,” Dani continued as she flipped

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