took, and she gave. She took, and he gave. He formed words, but mostly he showed his appreciation in physical ways—ways Ginger approved of with gasps and groans. She moaned when he nipped at the curve of her hip, sighed when he licked her navel, and fisted her hands in his hair when he sucked at her lush breasts.
Despite her slender body and porcelain skin, she was no china doll needing his restraint. She drew her hands and mouth over him, lingering and enjoying. When she encircled him to guide him into her, he nearly came apart. It had been a long time since he’d been touched this intimately.
She pushed at his shoulder, and he rolled with her, delighted to have her atop him with his hands free to explore. He groaned as she rode him, gritting his teeth against the intense pleasure. It almost killed him, waiting to reach his own climax until he’d satisfied her. When she shattered, he barely had a second to congratulate himself before his next thrust pushed him over the edge.
When his heart calmed and his breathing smoothed out, he rolled to the side, pulling her with him. She cuddled close, limp, and he smiled, sated and content that he’d brought her pleasure, as well.
As he drifted, lazy thoughts floated in and out of his grasp. His mind replayed the softness of her body, the textures and scents of her, the sounds of her moans. Great sex, lovely woman.
It wasn’t until later that the fragments formed a cohesive thought. He’d just had the most incredible, hair-catching-on-fire sex of his life.
And he didn’t know the woman’s last name.
Chapter Two
Ginger came awake slowly, aware of a soft prickle against her face and a crick in her neck. What had she slept on?
Realization hit and she stilled. Scott. Her eyes fluttered open. Definitely a chest under her head and curly male hair tickling her nose.
She gave an inaudible groan. She hadn’t meant to actually sleep with him. Sex, sure, that was no problem, but she never spent the night. That led to entanglements. She must have slept like the dead not to have woken up by now. Being in his arms felt natural. A bad sign.
The slender opening in the drapes showed a black sky, but in late December that could mean midnight or nearly dawn. Light from the desk lamp she’d turned on the night before illuminated Scott’s face, serene in slumber.
His arm lay under her head but didn’t encircle her. Although snuggled against him, she could probably steal out of bed without his notice. Testing the theory, she inched her behind backward, then stealthily slid one foot toward the edge, watching his face for a reaction. His eyelids remained closed and his body still. She hated to wrench away from his warmth and considered waking him for a little good morning sex instead.
But the debate lasted only for a moment. She had to get away. Just wanting to stay longer warned her he’d breached her defenses already. He was too nice and his loneliness too touching. A guy like him—fun and kind and attentive—threatened her peace of mind.
Ginger lifted her head from his arm, freezing at a noise from him. Assured he slept on, she slid off the bed and grabbed her belongings from the floor. The bathroom provided a safe haven as she yanked on her clothes. She washed her face, grimacing at the remnants of cosmetics she left on the washcloth. Remembering why she’d gone to bed in her makeup, she smiled. Scott was a heck of a guy, seduction-wise. She scraped wet fingers through her curls, fluffing up or patting down as needed to alleviate her bed-head.
She had to skedaddle before he woke. Never had a morning-after felt so sordid, especially when the night before had been so lovely. Although they were strangers, having sex with him had been powerful and moving. Now it felt as though she’d done something to run from. She couldn’t face him.
So, of course, he woke when she opened the bathroom door. The disoriented expression on his face made him look rumpled and cuddly and dangerously adorable.
“What—?” He cleared his throat. “Where are y’all going?”
“Home.” She kept to the shadows of the room. His accent came thicker in his half-awake state. Why’d he have to be even cuter now? She was supposed to be leaving, firmly walking out the door without a backward glance. Had-a-great-time-thanks-see-you-around, not oh-my-stars-I-want-you-again.
“I’ll drive y’all home. Hold on a minute.” He threw off the covers, revealing his long tanned body as he sat upright.
Seeing him naked while she wore her cocktail dress from the night before emphasized the wrongness of the situation. “No, I’m fine.”
“Oh, do y’all have a car here?”
Ginger shook her head. “I can take a taxi.”
And won’t that cause talk if I’m seen. She glanced at the clock. One forty-five. The Riley & Ross party crowd should all be gone by now. She hoped.
He studied her a moment longer than her composure could take. She glanced around for her purse, spotting it on the desk by the still-lit lamp. Lunging, she grabbed it and turned her back to the harsh light. She felt naked and exposed—and not in a good way.
“Thanks for last night,” she said. “I had a lovely time.”
His eyebrows rose. “And that’s it?”
She lifted her lips in a smile. “What did you need to hear?”
Ginger cringed at her harsh phrasing, especially when he floundered, lost for words. But her statement clarified the interaction between them. They’d had great sex. Really great sex. The end.
“I don’t even have your phone number,” he said. “Or know your last name.”
She hid her wince. “Would you really call me?”
He nodded with less assurance than he probably meant to reveal before shrugging. “I’d like to have the option.”
Ginger swallowed her hurt.
“I don’t have a phone installed yet, and I’ll be getting a different cell number with the 816 area code. I came up this week with the movers to get the house settled and meet some of my coworkers.” He ran a hand over his face. “Y’all have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? We didn’t exactly exchange information.”
“You work in the R&D Department at Riley & Ross Electronics. You’re the new guy from Alabama.”
“Atlanta, actually, and how did you know?”
Ah. Being from the most cosmopolitan city in the South explained his lack of a heavy accent. “I asked about you.”
He nodded. “That would be safe.”
As though she’d thought of safety. It had been curiosity, pure and simple. Well, maybe not so pure. And this was turning out to be not so simple, either.
“But I’m still pretty much a stranger around these parts,” he added.
“Not to me.” Ginger closed her eyes even before his surprised grunt of laughter reached her ears. How embarrassing.
“I guess that’s true.”
She
