her mouth—not entirely sure why she allowed this kind of liberty.
She had a small waist and delicate bones. Touching her gave him a thrill equal to being caught in a lightning storm. This wasn’t love, it was lust, he reminded himself. Love didn’t leave a man breathless and overheated. He’d always figured love as a lukewarm emotional state that developed slowly over time between long-standing acquaintances. He and Kim didn’t know each other. They had barely spoken a few hundred words, total, and were acting on instinct.
“This is a truce,” he said, brushing her mouth with his. “A white flag.”
In a replay of the kiss in the bar, he rested his lips on hers lightly before drawing back far enough to note her response. Her eyes were half-closed now. Her lashes were blackened by eye makeup she didn’t need to enhance her appearance. Her skin gleamed as though their steamy encounter had moistened it. Up close, she really did look younger. She looked...delicious.
The red dress, he decided in a whirlwind of thought, probably wouldn’t hold a candle to Kim in a baggy T-shirt and nothing else. Kim with her hair mussed, getting out of bed on a weekend morning, or emerging from a shower, wet and soapy.
Those thoughts turned him on.
He wedged his thigh between her legs and pressed her roughly to the wall. Her mouth molded to his, and her mouth was a marvel. She nipped at his lips, breathing sultry streams of air into him.
Her hands found their way underneath his coat, and tugged at his shirt. Finding bare skin, her fingers splayed, hot as pokers, and sent streaks of pleasure soaring through him.
Who needed control when faced with
this?
What man wouldn’t consider giving up a future for a night like this one?
Liking how light she felt in his arms, he lifted her up. Her legs encircled his thighs. The spot he achingly wanted to reach settled over his erection as he held her close, though there were still too many clothes in the way.
Backing up a step made things worse. Part of him wanted to hold her like this forever, culmination be damned. But he was also aware of how close they had come to losing the chance of working anything out after this ferocious sexual escapade.
His mind’s chatter stopped abruptly when her mouth separated from his and moved to his ear. Her lips flitted over his lobe teasingly before she came back for more, her mouth hungrier this time, their kiss resembling the furor of anger in its intensity.
She was giving in, meeting him halfway as an aggressor. He had never desired anything so badly as to be inside her. Surely there was a place to finish this—a sofa or a rug?
He caressed her, devoured her, his elation escalating. Her fingers dipped under his waistband, searching, scorching, ensuring his hardness, driving him mad. The only sound in the room was the rasp of their breathing. The only sensation left to him was Kim McKinley in his arms.
And then the air shook with the shrill sound of a phone ringing. The sound echoed loudly throughout the room.
Chaz’s heart missed a beat. His lips stalled. It was Kim’s phone, and a bad omen, he just knew.
The click of an answering machine turning on followed the second ring.
“Kim?” a voice said, loud enough for Brenda Chang to have been in the room with them.
“Kim, are you there? Pick up the damn phone! Listen. Monroe isn’t who we think he is. He isn’t the VP. He’s the new owner of the agency, and is occupying that office in order to spy on the masses. He owns the agency and us, lock, stock and barrel. Kim, please pick up! Monroe might be on his way over there. I wanted to catch you before he arrives and pass on that news. Kim? Oh, hell. Tell Sam. Don’t answer the door. Where are you? Call me back.”
By the time the machine turned off, Kim’s tight hold on him had gone slack. She stiffened so fast, her actions didn’t register until her legs loosened, and he had to press her against the wall to support her.
Some of her
She had a small waist and delicate bones. Touching her gave him a thrill equal to being caught in a lightning storm. This wasn’t love, it was lust, he reminded himself. Love didn’t leave a man breathless and overheated. He’d always figured love as a lukewarm emotional state that developed slowly over time between long-standing acquaintances. He and Kim didn’t know each other. They had barely spoken a few hundred words, total, and were acting on instinct.
“This is a truce,” he said, brushing her mouth with his. “A white flag.”
In a replay of the kiss in the bar, he rested his lips on hers lightly before drawing back far enough to note her response. Her eyes were half-closed now. Her lashes were blackened by eye makeup she didn’t need to enhance her appearance. Her skin gleamed as though their steamy encounter had moistened it. Up close, she really did look younger. She looked...delicious.
The red dress, he decided in a whirlwind of thought, probably wouldn’t hold a candle to Kim in a baggy T-shirt and nothing else. Kim with her hair mussed, getting out of bed on a weekend morning, or emerging from a shower, wet and soapy.
Those thoughts turned him on.
He wedged his thigh between her legs and pressed her roughly to the wall. Her mouth molded to his, and her mouth was a marvel. She nipped at his lips, breathing sultry streams of air into him.
Her hands found their way underneath his coat, and tugged at his shirt. Finding bare skin, her fingers splayed, hot as pokers, and sent streaks of pleasure soaring through him.
Who needed control when faced with
this?
What man wouldn’t consider giving up a future for a night like this one?
Liking how light she felt in his arms, he lifted her up. Her legs encircled his thighs. The spot he achingly wanted to reach settled over his erection as he held her close, though there were still too many clothes in the way.
Backing up a step made things worse. Part of him wanted to hold her like this forever, culmination be damned. But he was also aware of how close they had come to losing the chance of working anything out after this ferocious sexual escapade.
His mind’s chatter stopped abruptly when her mouth separated from his and moved to his ear. Her lips flitted over his lobe teasingly before she came back for more, her mouth hungrier this time, their kiss resembling the furor of anger in its intensity.
She was giving in, meeting him halfway as an aggressor. He had never desired anything so badly as to be inside her. Surely there was a place to finish this—a sofa or a rug?
He caressed her, devoured her, his elation escalating. Her fingers dipped under his waistband, searching, scorching, ensuring his hardness, driving him mad. The only sound in the room was the rasp of their breathing. The only sensation left to him was Kim McKinley in his arms.
And then the air shook with the shrill sound of a phone ringing. The sound echoed loudly throughout the room.
Chaz’s heart missed a beat. His lips stalled. It was Kim’s phone, and a bad omen, he just knew.
The click of an answering machine turning on followed the second ring.
“Kim?” a voice said, loud enough for Brenda Chang to have been in the room with them.
“Kim, are you there? Pick up the damn phone! Listen. Monroe isn’t who we think he is. He isn’t the VP. He’s the new owner of the agency, and is occupying that office in order to spy on the masses. He owns the agency and us, lock, stock and barrel. Kim, please pick up! Monroe might be on his way over there. I wanted to catch you before he arrives and pass on that news. Kim? Oh, hell. Tell Sam. Don’t answer the door. Where are you? Call me back.”
By the time the machine turned off, Kim’s tight hold on him had gone slack. She stiffened so fast, her actions didn’t register until her legs loosened, and he had to press her against the wall to support her.
Some of her
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