into his arms and drag her to the nearest bedroom. He wasn’t going to win that war for very long. “No, but the nanny might have to stay late.”
“Because you work long hours?”
That wasn’t what he meant, but he nodded. “Some days.”
“We could arrange it,” she said, gesturing for him to go down a hall. “Come see the rest.”
She pointed out features as they went along, but all he noticed was the bright-green bikini under her dress. And she went on and on about the woodwork, but his attention was on her buttery skin, tanned and smooth. By the time they reached the doors to the master suite, he’d have bought the place if it meant he could have her…on that bed.
“All the trimmings of luxury: Jacuzzi, marble, a bed big enough to sleep three or four or nine.” She grinned. “Whatever turns you on.”
She turned him on. “Not three or nine,” he said. Just one. The one he was looking at.
“Upstairs, there are two bedrooms and two baths. Also a game room furnished with a big TV, which I bet Evan would like. You want to see them or this lovely view?” She slipped by him and pushed open another set of french doors to the patio. “So you can roll right out of bed and go swimming every morning.”
“With the nanny.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder. “That’s in the job description?”
Hell, yes. “It’s on the negotiating table.” He gave a rueful smile, joining her so they both stood in the doorway. He was close enough to her that he could see each individual eyelash tipped in gold as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“What do you think of the villa, Dr. Bradbury?”
“I like the tour guide.” He leaned an inch closer, backing her against the wood frame of the door.
They did it against a door once.
He kicked the thought away, stuffing his hands into his pockets again, which seemed to be the only way to avoid temptation with her.
A kiss. That was all he wanted. One kiss. One long, wet, hot kiss to ease the ache that had already started low in his gut. Way low. Everything in him wanted to touch her, to remember the silky feel of her skin, the pressure of her mouth, the warmth of her tongue.
That very tongue darted to wet her lips, her eyes locked on his, the message in them so, so clear.
Kiss me, Oliver.
His reply was silent, too. Just a whisper of warm breath into her mouth that almost instantly became more. A warm, tentative, spark of a kiss that tightened every muscle in his body and did the opposite to his common sense.
She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, as only their lips touched.
Slowly, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth, darting his tongue over her teeth. Their mouths melded as one, and against every will he dragged his hands out of his pockets to cup her jaw and hold her pretty face in his palms.
“Do you interview all the sitters like this?” she murmured into the kiss.
“Just the mouthy ones. Do you give all the renters tongue?”
“Just the hot ones.”
He pressed his body against hers, his cock growing against her belly, eliciting a tiny whimper that caught in her throat.
“Oliver.”
He kissed her cheek, her ear. “Mmm?”
“You know where this is headed, don’t you?”
“We’re in the master bedroom, so I hope not far.”
Breaking away from the kiss, she slipped from his touch, out to the patio, pulling him with her. Sunshine through palm fronds dappled her in splashes of light, her eyes dancing with a tease. “As if I’d be such a cliché and fall into bed with you, Oliver.”
“It was worth a shot.”
“There’s a pool .” In a flash of snow-white gauze and lime-green silk and golden-brown skin, she yanked the dress over her head, tossed it in the air, and vaulted into the pool, splashing water all over him.
Once, about eight years ago, Pasha saw a moonbow.
Funny, she could remember the glimmer in the Colorado night sky even right now, bathed in the midday sunshine instead of nighttime shadows. The moonbow had
“Because you work long hours?”
That wasn’t what he meant, but he nodded. “Some days.”
“We could arrange it,” she said, gesturing for him to go down a hall. “Come see the rest.”
She pointed out features as they went along, but all he noticed was the bright-green bikini under her dress. And she went on and on about the woodwork, but his attention was on her buttery skin, tanned and smooth. By the time they reached the doors to the master suite, he’d have bought the place if it meant he could have her…on that bed.
“All the trimmings of luxury: Jacuzzi, marble, a bed big enough to sleep three or four or nine.” She grinned. “Whatever turns you on.”
She turned him on. “Not three or nine,” he said. Just one. The one he was looking at.
“Upstairs, there are two bedrooms and two baths. Also a game room furnished with a big TV, which I bet Evan would like. You want to see them or this lovely view?” She slipped by him and pushed open another set of french doors to the patio. “So you can roll right out of bed and go swimming every morning.”
“With the nanny.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder. “That’s in the job description?”
Hell, yes. “It’s on the negotiating table.” He gave a rueful smile, joining her so they both stood in the doorway. He was close enough to her that he could see each individual eyelash tipped in gold as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“What do you think of the villa, Dr. Bradbury?”
“I like the tour guide.” He leaned an inch closer, backing her against the wood frame of the door.
They did it against a door once.
He kicked the thought away, stuffing his hands into his pockets again, which seemed to be the only way to avoid temptation with her.
A kiss. That was all he wanted. One kiss. One long, wet, hot kiss to ease the ache that had already started low in his gut. Way low. Everything in him wanted to touch her, to remember the silky feel of her skin, the pressure of her mouth, the warmth of her tongue.
That very tongue darted to wet her lips, her eyes locked on his, the message in them so, so clear.
Kiss me, Oliver.
His reply was silent, too. Just a whisper of warm breath into her mouth that almost instantly became more. A warm, tentative, spark of a kiss that tightened every muscle in his body and did the opposite to his common sense.
She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, as only their lips touched.
Slowly, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth, darting his tongue over her teeth. Their mouths melded as one, and against every will he dragged his hands out of his pockets to cup her jaw and hold her pretty face in his palms.
“Do you interview all the sitters like this?” she murmured into the kiss.
“Just the mouthy ones. Do you give all the renters tongue?”
“Just the hot ones.”
He pressed his body against hers, his cock growing against her belly, eliciting a tiny whimper that caught in her throat.
“Oliver.”
He kissed her cheek, her ear. “Mmm?”
“You know where this is headed, don’t you?”
“We’re in the master bedroom, so I hope not far.”
Breaking away from the kiss, she slipped from his touch, out to the patio, pulling him with her. Sunshine through palm fronds dappled her in splashes of light, her eyes dancing with a tease. “As if I’d be such a cliché and fall into bed with you, Oliver.”
“It was worth a shot.”
“There’s a pool .” In a flash of snow-white gauze and lime-green silk and golden-brown skin, she yanked the dress over her head, tossed it in the air, and vaulted into the pool, splashing water all over him.
Once, about eight years ago, Pasha saw a moonbow.
Funny, she could remember the glimmer in the Colorado night sky even right now, bathed in the midday sunshine instead of nighttime shadows. The moonbow had
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