Her Perfect Stranger by Jill Shalvis

"We're stopping?" Her breathing was as uneven as his strained voice, her eyes glazed, her mouth full and wet. She looked very uncommanderlike, and he thoroughly enjoyed that. "We're right in the open doorway, Mike." Oh. Oh yeah. He'd forgotten. They could have been on the moon for all he remembered. "See? Proof positive you make me lose my mind." He pulled her in, stopping only to slam the door before leading her to the king-size bed. She came to a grinding halt, staring at it. "Are we making another mistake?" Hell yes, but he wasn't about to admit that now, so he pulled her around and kissed her again, kissed her long and thoroughly, until he could barely recall his name and knew she couldn't either. Then and only then did he go for the prize once again—the zipper on the form-fitting sweater she wore. His knuckles brushed her skin as he worked it down, down, down, discovering halfway that his sexy commander wore nothing beneath. Bending, he put his mouth to her throat. Her eyes slid shut as he nipped and sucked his way down to the base of her neck. "Mike...wait." He tasted her soft, creamy flesh. She moaned. "Now?" he asked hopefully, still tugging on the zipper. "I don't know." She pulled his T-shirt free of his waistband and over his head. Then stood blinking at his chest. "How come you're so perfectly made?" she asked seriously, lifting her hand to run her fingers over the muscles that twitched with her every touch. "God designed man this way so despite our stupidity, women couldn't resist us. Is it working?" She nodded slowly. "Undoubtedly." "I'm sorry I'm hurting you at work, Corrine. I don't mean to be." "I know." She stared at his body with what looked like befuddled arousal. "Now?" he asked in a voice very close to begging as he fingered the zipper between her breasts. "Okay," she whispered. "Now." Ziiip. He spread the sweater open, pushing the material from her shoulders to hang from her elbows. Looking down at her, he found even his ragged breathing went still. Everything went still, except his heart, which chose this moment to ache like hell. "You take my breath away, Corrine." She put a hand over the one he'd pressed to his heart. "Mike—" "No, I mean it. Look at you." Reverently, he reached out and touched the tip of one beaded nipple. She let out a sexy, helpless little sound that nearly did him in. "I want to drop to my knees and worship you for..." The rest of my life. "Kiss me, Mike." "But..." He wanted to think about this, discuss it. "Kiss." As if she'd read his thoughts and had been equally terrified, she hauled him close. "Just shut up and kiss me." Making sure he complied, she glued her mouth to his, making love to it with her tongue, sliding in and out in a motion he didn't even try to resist, and within moments they were clinging to each other. He couldn't touch enough of her, and when he tried harder, she lifted a leg to his hip, pressing the heat of her to him, gliding over him until his eyes crossed. "Okay, we've got to get horizontal," he decided breathlessly. "Before we kill each other." Tipping her to the bed, he crawled up her body, spreading her legs to make a place for himself between them. Corrine pushed her hips up, meeting his erection more than halfway. Somehow her skirt had gotten shoved up to her waist, leaving only the silky barrier of her panties between them, but the friction of that, along with the helpless but insistent thrust of her hips, nearly did him in. Nearly. Because while she took his breath, she'd also somehow taken his heart. He wanted to talk, wanted to know what was happening, wanted to know why he suddenly felt as though maybe it was far more than simple, unquenchable heat they were generating right here on this bed. Only she grabbed his ears and pulled his mouth back to hers, keeping it busy while she pumped and rocked her hips against the biggest hard-on he'd ever sported. "Now," she demanded, panting. If she could have heard herself, she'd have been