Slow Hands by Leslie Kelly Page B

darkened room, flipped on the light, and spun around to gauge his reaction. But when she saw him standing there in just his soft, low-slung jeans, she froze as if she’d never seen a man’s body before.
    “Oh, my God.”
    The sexy woman actually licked her lips while her gaze greedily roamed over his bare chest and shoulders. She looked even hungrier than she had when their waitress had deposited a pile of nachos in front of her tonight.
    “I never imagined,” she whispered, lifting her hand toward him. She didn’t step closer, merely scraping the tip of one finger down his throat, until reaching the hollow of his throat. There it remained, connected by the tiniest strand of static-charged air to his raging pulse. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful man.”
    Jake half groaned and half laughed.
    “I mean it. You’re beautiful. You should be on display somewhere, dipped in bronze. You’re so hard, so strong.” She ran her hand down his chest, letting her pink-tinged nails rake lightly across his abs. She didn’t pause, caressing him until she reached the waistband of his jeans, which hung low on his hips. Visibly swallowing, she added, “Yet so lean, too.”
    “You’re killing me. You know this, right?”
    She ignored him. “I’d pictured…when I went to the auction, I’d figured you’d be skinny. Elegant. Not…not like this .”
    He barked a harsh laugh. Skinny he was not. And elegant he’d never tried to be. “I work out sometimes. Not out of vanity, out of necessity.”
    There was no way Jake would put somebody’s life at risk by letting himself get too out of shape to do his job. He lifted gurneys—usually with heavy bodies on them—every single day. He squeezed into small spaces in collapsed buildings, he often hauled around some backbreakingly heavy equipment. Those things mattered—possibly enough to be the difference between life and death to an injured person. Staying in top physical condition was an absolute requirement for his own safety and for that of others.
    “Is it a necessity that your shoulders are as broad as my legs are long?”
    He chuckled, glancing down at those delicate, sexy legs, in such perfect proportion to the rest of her, despite her claim that they were too short. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Then he reached for her hips, cupped them and drew her close. “But I’m willing to examine them, up close and personal, just to make sure.”
    “I’d hate to ask such a sacrifice of you.”
    “What can I say? I’m a nice guy.”
    Maddy, who’d been inching closer as they engaged in the light, verbal foreplay, tilted her head back and watched him intently. “You are, aren’t you.”
    “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
    She shook her head. “You’re a contradiction, that’s all. I don’t know that I understand you.”
    “Understand this.” He said nothing more, bending down to cover her mouth with his. Slipping his hands into her hair to cup her head, he licked her lips, demanding access.
    Maddy opened for him, her tongue meeting with his in a warm, slow exploration. Different from the crazy-hot kiss outside the pub. Different…but just as good.
    Their bodies melted together in fluid grace, rather than heated, crazed grinding. Her softness cradled every hard place on him, molding to his chest, his groin, his thighs. Every delicate curve offered warmth and welcome and pure feminine invitation.
    “Jake…” she whispered against his mouth, though he knew she had nothing to say. Nothing that really needed to be said.
    They’d talked a lot since they’d met. Now it was time for their bodies to do all the communicating.
    Reaching for the bottom of her pink top, Jake tugged it free of her waistband, sliding it up with agonizing restraint. He didn’t look, didn’t trust himself to see her yet and not completely lose control. He concentrated instead on kissing her temple, tracing her high cheekbone with his mouth, kissing his way to