me.”
“Let’s have some wine then, so you can die happy.” She sat on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs. “Did I interrupt your work?”
“Reports. I’ll get back to it.” When I fi nd my sanity, he decided. He poured wine, handed her a glass. And watched her watch him as she took the first, slow sip.
“It’s been a while since anyone’s tucked me in. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, Max.”
“You had a rough night, a hard day.”
“Not as hard a day as I’d expected, thanks to you.”
“Laine—”
“Let me thank you. It was easier doing what needed to be done with you there. I like spending time with you.” She took another, longer sip. “I like wanting you, and speculating that you want me.”
“Wanting you’s squeezing the breath out of my throat, cutting off the oxygen to my brain. That wasn’t the plan.”
“Ever want to say screw the plan and go with impulse?”
“All the time.”
She did laugh now, downed the wine and rose to pour another glass. After another sip, she walked to the door. “I don’t. Or rarely do. But you have to respect the exceptions that make the rule.”
She opened the door, hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside knob. She closed the door, locked it, leaned back against it. “If you don’t like where this is going, better speak up.”
He took a deep gulp of wine himself. “I have absolutely nothing to say.”
“That’s good because I was prepared to get rough.”
He imagined the grin that split his face was big, and stupid. He didn’t give a damn. “Really?”
She started back toward him. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fight fair.”
“That dress isn’t fighting fair.”
“Oh?” She took a last sip of wine, then set the glass aside. “Then I should just take it off.”
“Let me. Please.” He trailed a fingertip along the milky white skin edged with black. “Let me.”
“Help yourself.”
He forgot about practicality, professionalism. He forgot about the emotional and physical distance he’d decided would best suit his needs. He forgot about everything but the reality of her, the water-soft texture of her skin, the heady scent, the hot, ripe taste of her mouth when he gripped her hips, pulled her close and kissed her.
She enveloped him—those textures, that scent, that taste until they were—she was—everything he could want or need or imagine.
It was a mistake. Taking her now, like this, was a mistake and edged very close to the forbidden. Knowing that only added an irresistible element of danger to the whole.
He tugged the dress away from her shoulder, set his teeth on flesh. And when her head fell back, he worked his way back toward the little purr in her throat.
“Something to be said about plans though,” he murmured, and bared her other shoulder. “I’ve got all sorts of plans for you.”
“I was hoping.” She fumbled her hand back to where she’d dropped her purse on the bed. “You’re going to need this,” she said, and pulled out a condom.
“At some point, we’re also going to need a defibrillator and a fire extinguisher.”
“Promises, promises.”
He grinned. “I could go seriously crazy over you.” He laid his lips on hers again, rubbed. “Is this one of those peel-out-of-it deals? The dress, I mean.”
“Pretty much.”
“Hot damn, a personal favorite.” He worked slowly, drawing out the process with his mouth on hers until they were both ready to shudder. Then he drew back, took her hand so she could step out of the dress that pooled at her feet. And just looked at her.
She wore some sort of fascinating female construction of silk and lace that flirted over her breasts so they had little choice but to rise up, threaten to spill out. The black silk skimmed down her torso, nipping in her waist, molding over her hips to end in flirty little garters that held up sheer black stockings.
“I’m trying to think of something memorable to say, but it’s really hard when all the
“Let’s have some wine then, so you can die happy.” She sat on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs. “Did I interrupt your work?”
“Reports. I’ll get back to it.” When I fi nd my sanity, he decided. He poured wine, handed her a glass. And watched her watch him as she took the first, slow sip.
“It’s been a while since anyone’s tucked me in. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, Max.”
“You had a rough night, a hard day.”
“Not as hard a day as I’d expected, thanks to you.”
“Laine—”
“Let me thank you. It was easier doing what needed to be done with you there. I like spending time with you.” She took another, longer sip. “I like wanting you, and speculating that you want me.”
“Wanting you’s squeezing the breath out of my throat, cutting off the oxygen to my brain. That wasn’t the plan.”
“Ever want to say screw the plan and go with impulse?”
“All the time.”
She did laugh now, downed the wine and rose to pour another glass. After another sip, she walked to the door. “I don’t. Or rarely do. But you have to respect the exceptions that make the rule.”
She opened the door, hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside knob. She closed the door, locked it, leaned back against it. “If you don’t like where this is going, better speak up.”
He took a deep gulp of wine himself. “I have absolutely nothing to say.”
“That’s good because I was prepared to get rough.”
He imagined the grin that split his face was big, and stupid. He didn’t give a damn. “Really?”
She started back toward him. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fight fair.”
“That dress isn’t fighting fair.”
“Oh?” She took a last sip of wine, then set the glass aside. “Then I should just take it off.”
“Let me. Please.” He trailed a fingertip along the milky white skin edged with black. “Let me.”
“Help yourself.”
He forgot about practicality, professionalism. He forgot about the emotional and physical distance he’d decided would best suit his needs. He forgot about everything but the reality of her, the water-soft texture of her skin, the heady scent, the hot, ripe taste of her mouth when he gripped her hips, pulled her close and kissed her.
She enveloped him—those textures, that scent, that taste until they were—she was—everything he could want or need or imagine.
It was a mistake. Taking her now, like this, was a mistake and edged very close to the forbidden. Knowing that only added an irresistible element of danger to the whole.
He tugged the dress away from her shoulder, set his teeth on flesh. And when her head fell back, he worked his way back toward the little purr in her throat.
“Something to be said about plans though,” he murmured, and bared her other shoulder. “I’ve got all sorts of plans for you.”
“I was hoping.” She fumbled her hand back to where she’d dropped her purse on the bed. “You’re going to need this,” she said, and pulled out a condom.
“At some point, we’re also going to need a defibrillator and a fire extinguisher.”
“Promises, promises.”
He grinned. “I could go seriously crazy over you.” He laid his lips on hers again, rubbed. “Is this one of those peel-out-of-it deals? The dress, I mean.”
“Pretty much.”
“Hot damn, a personal favorite.” He worked slowly, drawing out the process with his mouth on hers until they were both ready to shudder. Then he drew back, took her hand so she could step out of the dress that pooled at her feet. And just looked at her.
She wore some sort of fascinating female construction of silk and lace that flirted over her breasts so they had little choice but to rise up, threaten to spill out. The black silk skimmed down her torso, nipping in her waist, molding over her hips to end in flirty little garters that held up sheer black stockings.
“I’m trying to think of something memorable to say, but it’s really hard when all the
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