Too Hot to Handle by Victoria Dahl Page A

meaningless night in a guy’s memory.
    But when his mouth whispered over hers with the slightest bit more pressure, she gave in with a sigh that seemed to part his lips. His tongue touched hers, his arms pulled her closer.
    She was in his grip, in his arms, in his room, and Shane Harcourt was exploring her mouth with a slow determination that weakened her knees. She had to stop him, but not…quite…yet. Not yet. She just wanted a little more of this. A little more of his tongue, sliding over hers. A little more of his hands as they slipped down her back and settled on her hips.
    Oh, God. Her hips . His hands rested there, shaping to the curve of her body, then gripping her. As if he liked that. As if he needed to touch her.
    Merry sighed into his mouth and his hands tugged her closer. Their hips were almost flush. If she eased forward, she would feel him. Right there. Against her. She wanted to feel him. She wanted it desperately. And if she did that, she knew that would be a signal. He’d ease her shirt up. Touch her naked skin. He’d undress her and they’d fall into bed and then…
    Merry pulled back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
    “It’s okay,” he said, eyes a little unfocused as he started to bend toward her again.
    She couldn’t pull away, couldn’t force her body away from his, but she did manage to turn her head. His mouth settled on her neck, and that was just as good. Better, even, as nerves screamed to life and stretched beneath her skin, lusting for his touch. His tongue touched her skin. And then his teeth.
    “Oh, God,” she groaned out loud.
    “Merry,” he said against her neck.
    The power of that, the ability to make him growl her name like a spoken wish… And then he tugged her hips closer and she knew he wanted her. He wanted this. They could be naked in moments. She could send the signal, reach for his shirt or lift her own. She could touch him and say yes and he’d be hers for a little while. It was so good to be touched this way. She wanted it so badly.
    His hand slipped toward the small of her back, and she felt a startling jolt of wicked pleasure as his thumb snuck beneath fabric to slide against bare skin.
    But when she gasped, the pleasure was swallowed by self-consciousness. Yes, in a few moments she could be naked with him. Too naked. Vulnerable and lost in what he’d do to her, gasping and needing and too damn aware that he did this all the time with all sorts of women. He was smooth, after all. Grace had warned her, and Merry had seen it herself when he’d made a point of turning on the charm.
    That was what he was doing now, wasn’t it? Seducing a willing partner. Because she was here. Because there was a bed. Because she had all the needed parts. And maybe, if she’d never see him again, she could deal with that, but she couldn’t let him know her like this and then live with casual hellos and awkward conversations over the woodpile. It would mean too much to her and too little to him.
    “Shane,” she whispered.
    He hummed an approving sound against her neck just as his hand spread over her bare back.
    “We can’t.”
    His mouth froze against her. His shoulders tensed. Neither of them moved. He was probably still processing her words, and Merry didn’t want to give up this last contact. For one last moment, she was still in his arms, he was still hard against her, and his hands still hoped to coax pleasure from her body. But then he stepped away, his hands raised slightly as if to show he’d meant no harm.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought…”
    “No, I’m sorry. It’s just that we probably shouldn’t…”
    “Of course. You’re right. Bad idea.”
    She nodded, crossing her arms to hide the sight of her body, which was still yearning toward him, still eager and aroused. “But the bed! It’s really awesome.”
    “Yeah. Thanks.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
    “So…” Her own nervous laughter made her cringe. “Anyway. I should probably