Even so, it was damned arousing to submit, even momentarily, to Mellie’s slightly awkward affections.
She started with his stubbly jaw, her tongue damp against his hot skin. The feminine purr of pleasure sent every drop of blood to his sex, leaving him hard and breathless.
“Mellie?”
She ignored him. Leaning into his embrace, she nuzzled his ear, kissed his brow, traced his nose with a fingertip. When her mouth hovered over his, he protested. “No.” It might have been more convincing if he hadn’t been dragging her against his chest. “I don’t need your pity.”
“But you want to kiss me.”
It was a statement, not a question. He shuddered, his arousal viciously demanding, relentlessly insistent. Take, take, take. “Of course I want to kiss you,” he said, the words sandpaper in his throat. Any living, breathing heterosexual male would want to kiss her.
Carefully, telling himself he was still in control, he slid a hand beneath the edge of her sweater and found the plane of her belly with his fingertips. Mellie’s sharp intake of breath spurred him on. When she didn’t move, not even a millimeter, he found her breast and palmed it.
Hell. Her curves were all woman. Beneath a layer of silky stuff and lace, he felt her heat, her life force. Wanting turned him inside out.
Moving slowly so as to not alarm her, he eased them into a reclining position, Mellie on her back, Case on his side—against the couch—his upper body sheltering hers.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “We can’t do this.”
He unfastened the button on the side of her skirt...lowered the zipper...exposed her practical cotton undies. “I know.”
“Wait.” She put a hand on his wrist. “Weren’t you supposed to woo me with champagne and strawberries?”
He was shaking. Either his fever was back or he was out of control. “Dessert,” he said, the words barely audible. “In a little while.”
His hand moved of its own accord, breaching the inconsequential narrow barrier of elastic on her bikini underpants and sliding lower.
Mellie whimpered. There was no other word for it. In that raw, needy sound, he heard every last one of his scruples and reservations spelled out. This was insane. He was insane.
He swallowed hard. “Shall I stop?” She would never know what the question cost him.
She held his hand against her body, gripping his wrist until her fingernails dug into his skin. The spark of pain drove his lust a notch higher. “Don’t you dare.”
When he found the moist cleft of her sex, they both groaned. As he stroked her gently, he felt her lift against his hand.
He was dizzy...hungover...and he hadn’t even popped the cork on the bubbly. “Close your eyes, Mellie.”
Mellie panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Why hadn’t he removed her sweater? Hell, he couldn’t stop now. It wouldn’t be fair.
“I want to see you naked,” he said urgently.
“Please, don’t stop...” The three words were raspy, but ended on a sharp cry.
Watching and feeling Mellie find satisfaction was humbling. No pretenses. No big show. Just a woman experiencing pleasure—deep, raw gratification.
When she could breathe again, he rested his forehead on hers. “I want you.”
She licked her lips, her expression befuddled. “You’ve been desperately ill. Maybe your heart’s not healthy enough for sex.” She dared to tease him.
“My heart’s fine,” he groused, not amused by her joking allusion to a television commercial. “And I don’t appreciate the reference. I have the flu, not ED.”
She curled her arms around his neck, smiling drowsily. “You’re gorgeous even when you’re sick. It’s not fair. And PS, I’ve never done it with a cowboy.”
“You still haven’t done it,” he pointed out, his disgruntlement tempered only by the fact that he felt like hell.
“They say anticipation is half the pleasure.”
“I’d like a chance to find out.”
“The first day you’re well, I swear. We’ll drink that champagne and go for it.”
“Cheap advice from a woman who just—”
She clapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t be grouchy. Your time will come. In fact, if you think you’re up to it, I’m right here. Carpe diem and all that.”
He thought about it. Seriously. For about ten seconds. But a quick assessment of his head-to-toe misery settled the argument. “No,” he sighed. “I want to impress you with my carnal prowess.”
“Is that really a thing?”
“You’ll have to wait and see, now, won’t you?”
She frowned, examining his face, no doubt spotting the damp forehead and the sudden lack of color. “You need to be in bed,” she said firmly. “Alone.”
He wanted to argue. He really wanted to argue. But damn it, Mellie was right. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said. “You keep me occupied.”
“That’s one word for it.” She sat up, forcing him to, as well. When they were hip to hip, she took his hand. “I think it’s best if I put cleaning your house on hold...give you a week to recover without anyone underfoot. If you’re better by the end of the week, we’ll talk about resuming our original schedule.”
“I have to be better by the weekend,” he said.
“Why?”
“The club is throwing a big party Saturday night to honor me as the new president.”
“Ah.”
“That’s all you have to say...ah?”
She cocked her head. “What do you want me to say?”
“You could at least act interested.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mellie. You know I want you to go with me.”
She stood abruptly. “I most certainly do not. We’re barely acquaintances.”
“Aren’t you forgetting what just happened? When I rocked your world?” He smiled to let her know he was kidding about the world-rocking thing.
Mellie actually winced. “Aside from your Texas-sized ego, what you and I have been dancing around is the possibility of a fling, not any kind of official status. That’s crazy.”
“Why won’t you go with me? It’s a single social occasion, not a relationship.”
