Between Duty and Desire by Leanne Banks Page B

wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to argue with her about it. Not right now, anyway. This was onefreakin’ weird situation, but Brock had the odd feeling that he needed to let Callie see what a woman she was—in every sense of the word.
    He kissed her and her response was warm and inviting. His banked arousal flared again. “Let’s go inside,” he murmured.
    He led her inside and into the den. “Can I get you something to drink?”
    “That would be nice,” she said.
    He pulled out a bottle of white wine he’d bought a week ago and poured two glasses. The wine wasn’t going to do a damn thing to dampen his libido. He figured he would need to be run over by a truck in order to lose this edgy gotta-have-her feeling. Maybe not even then.
    He found her on his balcony, enjoying the ocean breeze, and offered her a glass of wine.
    “You have a great view,” she said, accepting the glass and taking a long sip.
    “I do,” he said, looking at her.
    She caught his gaze and smiled, shaking her head. “I meant the ocean.”
    “It’s okay. I like what I’m looking at better.”
    “You’re a flatterer,” she chided, taking another sip.
    “Not me. Just call ’em like I see ’em.” He stepped closer to her, inhaling her scent as he slid his arm around the front of her and drew her against him.
    “Hmm. You’re warm,” she murmured.
    “You cold?”
    “Not really. But your warmth feels good.”
    He planned to make her feel a helluva lot more than good.
    “Have you ever made love on a balcony?” she asked.
    Surprised by her question, he grinned in the darkness. “No. Why?”
    “Just curious. I imagine you’ve had sex in more interesting places than I have.”
    Setting down his glass of wine, he turned her to face him. “Do you wanna make love on the balcony?”
    “Maybe,” she said a little defensively. “What if I do?”
    He felt his grin grow. “Then we’ll make love on the balcony.”
    She bit her lip. “Or maybe I’d like to sometime.”
    Bold, then timid. She was going to kill him. Ah, but what a way to go. Backing against the wall, he pulled her with him. “I’ll make a note to check the security of the railing,” he said, lowering his mouth and French-kissing her. She tasted of wine and sweetness.
    He pulled the wineglass from her hand and put it on the small wrought-iron table beside them. Her lips and tongue chased his, and with every little stroke of her tongue, he grew hotter and harder.
    He ran his hands down her back to her bottom. “You feel so good,” he muttered.
    “You do, too,” she said, her body flush with his.
    He continued to dally with her lips, driving himself a little more crazy. He could feel her warming up, growing hotter and more restless. Her fingers squeezed his biceps then slid up to his shoulders. Sherubbed against him and he could feel the hard tips of her breasts even through her clothing. He wanted to rip off those clothes and plunge inside her.
    Slow, he coached himself. It’s been a while for her.
    It’ll be better if it’s slow.
    She made a sound of frustration and tugged at the buttons of his shirt. He heard the sound of one click ing on the concrete floor as it fell.
    “Sorry,” she murmured.
    “No problem,” he managed in a voice that sounded hoarse to his own ears.
    “I like your chest,” she whispered, her hands float ing over his bare skin like a breeze. She buried her face in his chest then slid her tongue over his throat.
    “I like the way you taste.”
    Brock swallowed an oath at the surge of arousal that pumped through him. He was supposed to be the experienced one, the one in control.
    She tugged her straps down and pressed her small, bare breasts against his chest and sighed as if in relief. “Sorry, I just needed to feel you.”
    “No apologies necessary,” he said, thinking she was hotter than a firecracker and he wanted all her heat and fire. He lifted his hands and slid his fingers between them to touch the hard tips of her