“Home sweet home, sugar.”
She turned her head, cocking an eyebrow. “Does that Southern boy charm work for you all the time?”
He flashed her a grin. “It worked on you.”
She eyed him evenly. “Your charm had little to do with it.”
She intrigued him. No two ways about it.
He got out of the car and started around to her door, but she slid out and met him halfway. As she moved closer to him, he started to curl his arm around her waist, but she shied away, keeping a foot of distance between them. He shrugged and walked into the building.
They took the elevator up, and a few seconds later, he unlocked the door to his apartment and ushered her inside where the welcoming blast of cooler air hit him in the face.
She walked into the small living room as he flipped on the lights. Her hands crept around her middle. As before in the bar, he sensed hesitancy on her part, but then she turned and let her arms fall to her sides. “Do you have something to drink?” she asked in a husky voice.
All he really wanted to do was get her into bed as fast as he could, but he supposed he could slow down and try to act a little civilized.
He walked over to the liquor cabinet and opened the beveled glass doors. “What would you like?”
She moved in beside him and laid her hand on his arm. “What would you like?”
Hell if that wasn’t a loaded question.
“To drink,” she said in an amused voice.
“Whatever you’re having, sugar.”
He stepped back and allowed her access to the cabinet. She pulled two glasses down then reached for the first bottle on the shelf. She didn’t seem particularly discerning when it came to her liquor.
He almost missed what she did next. Almost.
It was done so quickly and efficiently, he almost thought he’d imagined her making the dump into his drink with an expert swipe of her hand. Conniving little wench had spiked it. The question was whether she was trying to kill him or incapacitate him. Neither option was particularly enticing. Not when the alternative was spending the evening between her legs.
She turned with a smile and handed the glass to him. He took it and raised it to his lips, watching her as he did. A subtle spark of satisfaction and triumph lit her eyes.
As she tilted her own glass back to take a swallow, he lowered his and set it on the sideboard. She frowned.
“Is something wrong?”
“Not at all, sugar. I’m just not very thirsty. I find I’m craving something else altogether.”
To her credit, she didn’t let her thwarted attempt bother her. She set her drink down then sauntered over to him and slid her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in all available breath when the tips delved into his underwear and scraped over the ridge of his dick.
Slowly, he squeezed the air back out of his lungs and gripped her wrist in his hand, gently pulling her away.
She raised that eyebrow again, an action that was starting to get on his nerves.
“What’s your hurry, sugar?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want me…”
He yanked her against him in one swift motion. She let out a small gasp when he swung her up into his arms and headed for the bedroom.
When he shouldered past the door, he nudged the light switch with his elbow then moved toward the bed where he dumped her in the middle.
Her lips quirked into in a smile as she rose up on her elbows. “You going to stand there all night, cowboy?”
When he didn’t move, she edged off the bed and reached for him again. This time he didn’t stop her. She obviously had a desire to dictate the action, and he could be a reasonable man. When a gorgeous woman wanted to call the shots, he didn’t object. At least not until he could get her naked and underneath him.
He allowed her to start peeling his clothes away. She started with his jeans, hiking them down his legs. He kicked off his shoes and did a little dance step until he was free of the confining denim.
She moved forward again, sliding her hands underneath his shirt and pressing her palms against his abdomen. He flinched as a thousand teeny tiny needles assaulted his skin. The chemistry between them was off the hook. At this rate, he’d go off like the Fourth of July before he ever got between her legs.
With tantalizing slowness, she edged the shirt up and over his head. She rose up on tiptoe, straining to reach, but he wasn’t about to help her. Not when she was at full stretch, her breasts plumped against his chest. Hell, he’d sit back and enjoy the view.
Finally, she wrestled the shirt from him and tossed it aside. Then she went for his underwear. He let out an agonized hiss when her fingers brushed across the sensitive skin of his groin. Her palms smoothed down his legs as the underwear inched lower.
His cock sprang free as if it had a life of its own, and half the time it did. It strained outward, begging for her touch. When he was free of his underwear, she ran her hand back up his leg and cupped his heavy sac in her hand.
God, he ached. Her fingers all wrapped around his balls was enough to make him explode. Then she let go, and he groaned.
She stepped back, her eyes running up and down the length of his body.
“You like what you see, sugar?”
“Very nice,” she purred. “Nothing wrong with your equipment.”
He grinned and wrapped a hand around his straining cock. He pulled gently, working his hand up and down as he grew even harder.
“Lie down,” she murmured, gesturing toward the bed. He wondered what her back-up plan was now that he wasn’t passed out or dead from whatever drug she’d slipped him.
He wagged his ass over to the bed like an obedient stooge, but really, what red-blooded man wouldn’t be jumping to do this woman’s bidding? Hell, right now, he’d leap out the window naked and bark at the moon if that’s what it took.
He flopped onto the bed, legs spread, hands behind his head. If she wanted to run the show, he’d let her. For the time being.
She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a foil-wrapped packet. Came prepared, did she? It was then it registered that she didn’t carry a purse. Combat boots and no purse. He might have just lost his heart.
As she moved to the bed, she ripped at the edge of the condom pack with her teeth. She threw the foil away and slipped the tip of the condom between her lips. A red condom. What the hell?
Okay, he wasn’t arguing. Really. She could put a pink rubber on him, and he wouldn’t bitch, but the idea of a colored dick set his teeth on edge.
All complaints ceased when she crawled up between his legs and lowered her head to his thighs. Oh hell, she wasn’t.
Fuck. She was.
She slipped the condom over the tip of his cock with her mouth. And she didn’t stop there. Warm, moist lips surrounded him as she slowly eased her way down.
Fuck, she was well on her way to deep-throating him. He liked head as well as the next guy, but he’d never had a woman slide a condom all the way down his dick with her mouth.
The head of his cock bumped against the soft flesh of her throat, and her tongue unrolled the remainder of the condom. Unbelievable.
Slowly, she began inching her way back up, her mouth working its magic over the thin latex. If ever there was a time he cursed condoms, that time was now. What he wouldn’t give to feel that tongue and nothing else.
“Get your damn clothes off,” he growled.
The corner of her mouth quirked in amusement as she stared up at him. “Now who’s in a hurry?”
“You can take them off or I’ll tear them off,” he said calmly.