She nodded, her lips trembling. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw fear in her eyes. He smiled at her, intent on making it go away. “Well,” he said, “guess what?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’m damned honored.”
Her face was blank for a moment before her lush, tempting, sexy-as-hell lips curled into a smile. Her hand moved to his cheek, cupping it. There was something so tender about the action, it pressed him over the edge. With a low growl, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him, their mouths so near their breath intermingled. “I want you more than I remember ever wanting a woman.”
“You do?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
Her reply was so soft he barely heard it. “I want you, too.”
He absorbed the words as he would a needed breath of air, taking them in, and allowing them to fuel his desire. His lips brushed hers, once, twice, a third time—soft, tender, and passion-driven. She tasted like wine and a special something that was simply, perfectly her. With sensual strokes, their tongues met, languidly caressing each other.
His hands cupped her face as he pulled back to look into her eyes, dipping his head for one more taste. He slid his hands down her neck and started making soft circles with his thumbs. This woman was connected to him in some way beyond Williams, beyond Paxton, and beyond understanding.
For now, he just wanted to experience all that they could be together, here, now, tonight.
* * * * *
Lindsey rested her hands on his chest and allowed her head to slowly roll backwards. Her breasts tingled with his nearness, making her wish he would move his hands. Thinking she could deny herself this amazing man had been crazy. His lips pressed against the sensitive flesh of her neck, making a shiver of desire dance along her skin.
She wanted this, wanted him . . .
He nuzzled her ear, his tongue and teeth both touching the lobe. “I can’t begin to explain what you do to me.”
Lindsey pulled back a bit, wanting to see into those fascinating brown eyes of his. She liked knowing he wanted her. This gorgeous, sexy man wanted her. Of course she had seen desire in a man’s eyes before . . . but not the live, heated burn she saw in Mark’s. “Tell me why you want me, Mark?” She looked at him, waiting for his answer. For some reason, she needed to know.
Maybe she wanted him to say something wrong, to push her so she could run. Deep down she knew she was scared of Mark, of his powerful nature, and the way it resembled other men in her life. Yet . . . he was tender, and sensitive, and made her feel respected but still sexy. Was it real or just a good act, this way he treated her?
“I wish I could answer that question,” he told her, and there was so much honesty in his voice and eyes, it made her stomach flip-flop.
She so wished she knew the answer as well. Right now, she wanted Mark, and she wanted him in a way that went beyond words. No more holding back. He’d passed her test. “Mark,” she said, and the one word said so much. It was packed with her desire.
She moved then, rotating so that she straddled him. His hands went to her hips, helping her settle on top of him, feeling the evidence of his arousal. Their eyes locked, and the knowledge of what was to come passed between them and gave her a rush of pure heat. And it empowered her. This take-charge man was now here, under her control, and she liked it.
She bent her head, and let her lips linger above his, feeling the warmth of his breath as it touched her mouth. But she didn’t kiss him. Instead, she trailed her lips along his jaw, and then further to his neck, her nose flaring with his very male, very provocative smell.
Moving her lips near his ear, she whispered, “Why, Mark?” She flicked his earlobe with her tongue before leaning back to see his face. “Why do you want me? I want to know.”
His hands settled on her cheeks, his eyes holding hers. “You want to know why, Lindsey?”
“Yes, tell me.” Her voice had a breathless quality.
His voice was a deep, sensual play on her nerve endings. “It’s way beyond your looks, but I think you know that.”
She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. He simply took her by storm. Her intention had been to take control of this night. Instead, it felt more as if she had given it away. But it wasn’t a bad feeling like it had been in the past. With Mark, it felt . . . different.
“But you know you’re beautiful,” he said as his thumb moved across her bottom lip. “I know you do.”
Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks. She hated being told she was attractive. The corporate world had taught about politics and manipulation, and often looks played a key role. She hated it. “No,” she whispered.
“Look at me,” he said gently. She forced her eyes to meet his. “How can you say no?”
She wasn’t going to explain. “Kiss me,” she said instead.
He seemed as if he might refuse, but then his hands were in her hair, his lips pressed to hers, warm and wonderful, making her forget the past, and the future. Now was all that mattered. Their lips connected first, pressed together as if they were absorbing the very essence of the other. She felt the moment in every inch of her body. Her nipples tightened, and her body seemed to melt.
Then his tongue slid into her mouth, sliding against hers in a slow move meant to savor, not tease. One stroke after the next, they tasted one another, slow and hot. His hands slid beneath her shirt, and along her back. Her hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, to his chest, pressing against him as their kisses seemed to deepen, their bodies molding together just as their mouths were.
Her need for him intensified, and her hands moved along the fine lines of his muscular body, and settled at his tie. “Take it off,” she whispered against his lips, and then leaned back to make eye contact. “And the shirt.”
He reached for the knot, his stare bold, and fierce with passion. “You too,” he said.
“You first,” she responded, grabbing hold of the moments of control she could. Something told her with Mark, she would have to take them where she could get them. She reached for his buttons, starting with the bottom ones. He pulled his tie from his collar as she said, “I’ll help.”
His hands fell to his sides as he willingly let her take over the task. There was a huge part of her that wanted to grab the shirt and rip the buttons loose. Another wanted to savor each inch of skin as it was exposed. Dark hair ran from his belt to his navel and she ran her finger over it, eager to explore. The action seemed to make him grow impatient, and he finished off the buttons. She shoved the material aside, fingers flattening on his chest, feeling the soft hair that invited her touch.
“Now you,” he said, his hands going to hers. “Now you.” This time there was a challenge, even a dare, in his voice. As if he thought she was afraid to act.
She reached for the bottom of her shirt, and, in one easy move, pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor. His eyes dropped to her breasts, and without looking she could feel her nipples pucker against the thin ivory lace, responding to his stare as they might his touch. Or perhaps begging for it.
He took both his index fingers and ran them in a barely-there touch along the lace framing her breasts. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze on his fingers, or rather what they touched.
Before she knew his intentions, he pulled the silk down and exposed her nipples. Sucking in a breath of air, she whimpered as his fingers pinched and teased. Her lashes fell shut, her head tilting backwards.
And then his mouth was on one, warm as it suckled, sending waves of pleasure to her breasts and along her skin. Her hands moved into his hair, cupping his face. Without warning, Mark rolled her to her back, using his legs to part hers, and settling between them. His mouth was on her, his tongue hungrily sliding against hers, his body pressed into hers.
Her leg slid over his, trying to pull him closer. For long minutes, she was lost in his kisses, his flavor, his touch . . . . but in some far recess of her mind she registered a knocking on the door. “Mark?” Lindsey murmured against his lips, only to find herself thoroughly kissed again.