forehead.
She stared, still crouched on the floor close to him, really not wanting him to get any ideas and…really wanting him to. To just reach out and grab her and…show her some of his ideas.
Good lord. This must be where those repairman-housewife stories got started. And she’d always judged those poor women. Hot stranger, in one’s house, fixing things…she could suddenly, utterly see the temptation to turn that into intense, stolen sex.
She slid back a bit, the movement shifting her out of her crouch to her knees. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Dark brown eyes tracked over her body. His voice went so deep the rub of it in her nipples hurt . “Want me to see if I can find out?”
“Oh, I—” She pushed herself back more. But in the process, her knees spread just a little. “No.”
His gaze tracked back down over her body and lingered a second at the seam of her jeans, then trailed back up her torso, stopping like a hot stamp on her breasts before it reached her eyes again. As his gaze locked with hers, she flushed suddenly, all through her. “Sure?” His voice burred so deep she wanted to beg for it.
To just wallow in that sound, all over her body.
“No,” she said. “I mean—yes! Yes, I’m sure.”
Wait, had she said yes or no now? Those brown eyes caught on hers, clearly not sure either and intently hoping for the best.
She held up both hands. “No.”
He took a long, slow breath, holding onto that upraised knee as if it was his own lifeline, and just watched her. Waiting.
Waiting for her to maybe change her mind, she realized. Or make it up.
Oh, hell , the crazy, stupid, intense arousal that pressed through her at his waiting.
“Please don’t,” she said. Because if he did reach for her, if he tested her response at all, she might just…go with it. Be swept away. And then where would she be?
Besides satisfied? protested her rebellious body.
Matt frowned just a little. “Bouclettes, you already said no. You don’t have to add a ‘please’ to that for me.”
She drew a breath and forced herself to break his gaze, blurrily eyeing instead the scattered chocolate bars.
“You don’t have to add a ‘please’ to a ‘yes’ either.” That deep voice rubbed over her.
She wet her lips.
“Yeah.” A rumble like thunder. “You could just say it like that.”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head, not daring to look at him. She desperately wanted to do something stupid.
He reached for a rag and very carefully, very thoroughly, wiped his hands clean.
Oh, lord.
“I said no.”
“I’m not touching you, Bouclettes . ”
Damn. Why was that so hot ? To not be touched? Why did it make her want to be touched so badly?
“That’s good,” she managed.
The deep vibrations of his voice just wrapped her up and caressed her, easing into a tone so gentle it was all she could do not to curl up in it. “Why is that good, chérie ?”
She scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to rub some sense into herself. “Because I don’t know what I’d do if you did,” she confessed.
He drew one hard breath in, his fist clenching on the rag. Their gazes locked and sizzled. “That is a hell of a thing to tell a man while you keep asking him to do nothing.”
“I know.”
He shook his head slow and hard. “No. I bet you think you know. You think you can imagine it. But I bet you have no idea how hard it is to not just… do. ”
She drew another breath and scooted herself to the other side of a table leg. A flimsy, silly barrier for all it was a sturdy old table. But she could hold onto it and stare at him from its pseudo-refuge.
She felt more like a lion caging herself so she wouldn’t attack her prey rather than, say, prey hiding from the lion.
But maybe he misinterpreted, because he frowned and looked down, releasing all that delicious pressure. He took his own deep breath in and let it out now, heavily. “So…you like chocolate,” he said randomly,
She stared, still crouched on the floor close to him, really not wanting him to get any ideas and…really wanting him to. To just reach out and grab her and…show her some of his ideas.
Good lord. This must be where those repairman-housewife stories got started. And she’d always judged those poor women. Hot stranger, in one’s house, fixing things…she could suddenly, utterly see the temptation to turn that into intense, stolen sex.
She slid back a bit, the movement shifting her out of her crouch to her knees. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Dark brown eyes tracked over her body. His voice went so deep the rub of it in her nipples hurt . “Want me to see if I can find out?”
“Oh, I—” She pushed herself back more. But in the process, her knees spread just a little. “No.”
His gaze tracked back down over her body and lingered a second at the seam of her jeans, then trailed back up her torso, stopping like a hot stamp on her breasts before it reached her eyes again. As his gaze locked with hers, she flushed suddenly, all through her. “Sure?” His voice burred so deep she wanted to beg for it.
To just wallow in that sound, all over her body.
“No,” she said. “I mean—yes! Yes, I’m sure.”
Wait, had she said yes or no now? Those brown eyes caught on hers, clearly not sure either and intently hoping for the best.
She held up both hands. “No.”
He took a long, slow breath, holding onto that upraised knee as if it was his own lifeline, and just watched her. Waiting.
Waiting for her to maybe change her mind, she realized. Or make it up.
Oh, hell , the crazy, stupid, intense arousal that pressed through her at his waiting.
“Please don’t,” she said. Because if he did reach for her, if he tested her response at all, she might just…go with it. Be swept away. And then where would she be?
Besides satisfied? protested her rebellious body.
Matt frowned just a little. “Bouclettes, you already said no. You don’t have to add a ‘please’ to that for me.”
She drew a breath and forced herself to break his gaze, blurrily eyeing instead the scattered chocolate bars.
“You don’t have to add a ‘please’ to a ‘yes’ either.” That deep voice rubbed over her.
She wet her lips.
“Yeah.” A rumble like thunder. “You could just say it like that.”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head, not daring to look at him. She desperately wanted to do something stupid.
He reached for a rag and very carefully, very thoroughly, wiped his hands clean.
Oh, lord.
“I said no.”
“I’m not touching you, Bouclettes . ”
Damn. Why was that so hot ? To not be touched? Why did it make her want to be touched so badly?
“That’s good,” she managed.
The deep vibrations of his voice just wrapped her up and caressed her, easing into a tone so gentle it was all she could do not to curl up in it. “Why is that good, chérie ?”
She scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to rub some sense into herself. “Because I don’t know what I’d do if you did,” she confessed.
He drew one hard breath in, his fist clenching on the rag. Their gazes locked and sizzled. “That is a hell of a thing to tell a man while you keep asking him to do nothing.”
“I know.”
He shook his head slow and hard. “No. I bet you think you know. You think you can imagine it. But I bet you have no idea how hard it is to not just… do. ”
She drew another breath and scooted herself to the other side of a table leg. A flimsy, silly barrier for all it was a sturdy old table. But she could hold onto it and stare at him from its pseudo-refuge.
She felt more like a lion caging herself so she wouldn’t attack her prey rather than, say, prey hiding from the lion.
But maybe he misinterpreted, because he frowned and looked down, releasing all that delicious pressure. He took his own deep breath in and let it out now, heavily. “So…you like chocolate,” he said randomly,
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