“Maybe I should tell you-”
He shook his head, stepped toward her.
“Later.” He did the first thing that came to mind, lifting his hands to her hair. He drew the pins out, let them fall. When the weight of it tumbled free, over her shoulders, down her back, he combed his fingers through it. With his eyes on hers, he wrapped her hair around his fist like a rope, gave a tug.
“There’s still a lot of later,” he said, and took her mouth with his.
Her lips, for him, were perfect. Soft and full, warm and generous. He felt a quick tremble from her as her arms wound around him, as she pressed her body to his. She didn’t yield, didn’t soften-not yet. Instead she met his slow, patient assault with one of her own.
He slid the jacket from her shoulders, let it fall like the pins so his hands, his fingertips could explore silk and lace and flesh. While their lips brushed, rubbed, pressed, her hands came to his shoulders, then shoved at his jacket until it dropped away.
He tasted her throat, heard her purr of approval. As he eased back, he danced his fingers over the alluring line of her collarbone. Her eyes were vivid, alight with anticipation. He wanted to see them heavy. He wanted to see them go blind. Watching them, watching her, he let his fingers trail down to the swell of her breast where the lace flirted. And watching her still, glided them over the lace, over the silk to cup her while his thumb lightly rubbed, rubbed to tease her nipple.
He heard her breath catch, release, felt her shiver even as she reached to him to unbutton his shirt. Her hands slid up his torso, spread. He knew his heartbeat skipped, but his own hand made the journey almost lazily to the waistband of her pants. The flesh there was warm, and her muscles quivered as his fingers did a testing sweep. Then with a flick and a tug, her pants floated down her legs.
The move was so sudden, so unexpected, she couldn’t anticipate or prepare. Everything had been so slow, so dreamy, then his hands hooked under her arms, lifted her straight off her feet. The quick, careless show of strength shocked her system, made her head swim. Even when he set her back down, her knees stayed weak.
His gaze skimmed down, over the camisole, over the frothy underwear she’d donned with the idea of making him crazy. His lips curved as his eyes came back to hers.
“Nice.”
It was all he said, and her mouth went dry. It was ridiculous. She’d had other men look at her, touch her, want her. But he did, and her throat went dry. She tried to find something clever and careless to say back, but could barely find the wit to breathe.
Then he hooked his finger in the waist of her panties, gave one easy tug. She stepped toward him like a woman under a spell.
“Let’s see what’s under here,” he murmured, and lifted the camisole over her head. “Very nice,” was his comment as he traced his fingertip along the edge of her bra.
She couldn’t remember her moves, had to remind herself she was good at this-actively good, not just the type who went limp and let a guy do all the work. She reached for the hook of his trousers, fumbled.
“You’re shaking.”
“Shut up. I feel like an idiot.”
He took her hands, brought them both to his lips and she knew she was as sunk as the Titanic. “Sexy,” he corrected. “What you are is stupendously sexy.”
“Cal.” She had to concentrate to form the words. “I really need to lie down.”
There was that smile again, and though it might have transmitted self-satisfied male, she really didn’t give a damn.
Then they were on the bed, aroused bodies on cool, crisp sheets, candlelight flickering like magic in the dark. And his hands, his mouth, went to work on her.
He runs a bowling alley, she thought as he simply saturated her with pleasure. How did he get hands like this? Where did he learn to…Oh my God.
She came in a long, rolling wave that seemed to curl up from her toes, ride over her legs, burst in her center then wash over heart and mind. She clung to it, greedily wringing every drop of shock and delight until she was both limp and breathless.
Okay, okay, was all her brain could manage. Okay, wow.
Her body was a feast of curves and quivers. He could have lingered over those lovely breasts, the strong line of torso, that feminine flare of hip for days. Then there were her legs, smooth and strong and…sensitive. So many places to touch, so much to taste, and all the endless night to savor.
She rose to him, wrapped around him, arched and flowed and answered. He felt her heart thundering under his lips, heard her moan as he used his tongue to torment. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, his hips, her hands squeezing then gliding to fray the taut line of his control.
Kisses became more urgent. The cool air of the room went hot, went thick as smoke. When the need became a blur, he slipped inside her. And yes, watched her eyes go blind.
He gripped her hands to anchor himself, to stop himself from simply plunging, from bulleting by the aching pleasure to release. Her fingers tightened on his, and that pleasure glowed on her face with each long, slow thrust. Stay with me, he thought, and she did, beat for beat. Until it built and built in her ragged breaths, in the shivering of her body. She made a helpless sound as she closed her eyes, turned her head on the pillow. When her body melted under him, he pressed his face to that exposed curve of her neck. And let himself go.
HE LAY QUIET, THINKING SHE MIGHT HAVE FALLEN asleep. She’d rolled so that her head was on his shoulder, her arm tossed across his chest, and her leg hooked around his. It was, he thought, a little like being tied up with a Quinn bow. And he couldn’t find anything not to like about it.
“I was going to say something.”
Not asleep, he realized, though her words were drunk and slurry.
“About what?”
“Mmm. I was going to say, when we first came into the room. I was going to say something.” She curled closer, and he realized the heat sex had generated had ebbed, and she was cold.
“Hold on.” He had to unwind her, to which she gave a couple of halfhearted mutters of protest. But when he pulled up the blanket, she snuggled right in. “Better?”
“Couldn’t be any. I was going to say that I’ve been-more or less-thinking about getting you naked since I met you.”
“That’s funny. I’ve been more or less thinking the same about you. You’ve got an amazing body there, Quinn.”
“Lifestyle change, for which I could now preach like an evangelist. However.” She levered up so she could look down into his face. “Had I known what it would be like, I would’ve had you naked in five minutes flat.”
He grinned. “Once again, our thoughts run on parallel lines. Do that thing again. No,” he said with a laugh when her eyebrows wiggled. “This thing.”
He tugged her head down again until it rested on his shoulder, then drew her arm over his chest. “And the leg. That’s it,” he said when she obliged. “That’s perfect.”
The fact that it was gave her a nice warm glow under her heart. Quinn closed her eyes, and without a worry in the world, drifted off to sleep.
IN THE DARK, SHE WOKE WHEN SOMETHING FELL on her. She managed a breathless squeal, shoved herself to sitting, balled her hands into fists.
“Sorry, sorry.”
She recognized Cal’s whisper, but it was too late to stop the punch. Her fist jabbed into something hard enough to sting her knuckles. “Ow! Ow! Shit.”
“I’ll say,” Cal muttered.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Tripping, falling down, and getting punched in the head.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s pitch-dark.” He shifted, rubbed his sore temple. “And I was trying not to wake you up, and you hit me. In the head.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” she hissed right back. “For all I knew you could’ve been a mad rapist, or more likely, given the location, a demon from hell. What are you doing milling around in the dark?”
“Trying to find my shoes, which I think is what I tripped over.”