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Then Jessie Ann groaned. It slid up the back of her throat, easing into his mouth, setting his nerve endings on fire. In that moment, his rational voice got shut down for the beast who ruled his heart.
And this . . . this right here was why he didn’t kiss her that night all those years ago. If it had caused even a tenth of the lust pouring through his body this very second, his poor little eighteen-year-old brain would have crumpled from the pressure, and the two of them would still be stuck in S
mithtown up to their armpits in Smith sons.
He didn’t have to worry about that now, though. They were both adults with an excellent grasp of birth control. They could keep this simple and friendly and still have the time of their lives. Because he had to have her. Now. This very second.
Don’t miss Dianne Castell’s
HOT AND BOTHERED,
out this month from Brava . . .
His neck snapped as someone grabbed his tie and yanked him inside the carriage house, the dark interior making it impossible to see who did the yanking.
“What the . . . !” he gasped as the wood door clicked closed. He stumbled, his body flattening a woman’s against the wall, giving him a soft landing that made the choking worth it. He caught the faint aroma of coffee and doughnuts as breasts swelled against his chest, his body reacting as if he hadn’t had sex in months. Hell, maybe he hadn’t. “Charlotte?” he croaked through a shrinking trachea.
“We need to talk.”
“Wish I could.” He loosened his tie and gave a quick glance around the narrow hall, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. “Consider using a telephone?”
“Someone might overhear and I know you don’t want that, and I was heading for my house to change and I saw you coming, and . . .” She took a deep breath, her face scrunched in question as she peered up at him. “So why did you really come to the office?”
“The will? The missing daughter? Keeping things quiet? Stop me if you’ve heard this before. You sure you didn’t whack your head when you fell off that chair?”
Her breath came fast and was getting faster. Her eyes lit with fire—even in the dim light he could tell. “Why me?” she whispered, the implication having nothing to do with the case but with the two of them together now in this hallway after all these years of dancing around.
His brain refused to function, probably because the part of his anatomy below his belt was over-functioning. “You run an ad in the yellow pages.” Maybe? He had no idea about anything right now except Charlotte and wanting to kiss her and knowing he shouldn’t. Things between them were complicated—always had been and getting worse by the minute. He studied her delicious mouth, wanting and waiting for his lips. Make that getting more complicated by the second, and if his plan worked, complicated would be a huge understatement and their lives would be totally fucked.
He touched Charlotte’s cheek, her skin soft and smooth, as her body leaned into his, setting him on fire.
“We don’t have an ad.” She bit her bottom lip. “You’re right, I should have phoned,” she said with a shiver. “But we’re here now.” She yanked his tie again, bringing his face to hers, and she kissed him right on the mouth, her lips full and moist and delicious and opening. Did they have to open? Closed lips were a lot easier to dismiss, but this was not a dismiss kind of kiss, especially since he’d wanted it for so many damn years he’d lost count.
She released his tie, her arms sliding around his neck as his tongue touched hers and he lost his mind. Dumbass!
Their tongues mated, and his hands dropped to her sweet round bottom, pressing her softness to his hardening dick. There’d always been an attraction between them, but this was pure jump-her-bones-and-do-her-right-now lust . . . and he liked it more than he ever imagined.
She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, the motion suggestive as hell as her legs parted, nesting his erection tight against her heat. God, she had great heat! He slid his hands into the waistband of her skirt, her firm rump fitting so well into his palms. His mind warped, there was a ringing sound . . . no kiss or ass-grabbing had ever made his head ring before, especially to the tune of Moon River . . . a Johnny Mercer song . . . his favorite. Ah fuck! His cell!
Meet more sexy shifters
in Cynthia Eden’s
HOTTER AFTER MIDNIGHT,
coming next month from Brava . . .
“I’m an empath, Colin. My gift is that I sense things. I sense the Other. I can sense their feelings, their thoughts.”
Oh, yeah, he’d definitely tensed up on her. “You’re telling me that you can read my thoughts?”
The temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees. “I’m telling you that sometimes I can tell the thoughts of supernaturals.” She’d known he wouldn’t be thrilled by this news, that was why she hadn’t told him the full truth the other night. But now that they were working together, now that her talent was coming in to play, well, she figured he had the right to know.
Colin grabbed her arms, jerked her forward against his chest. “So this whole time, you’ve been playing with me.”
The sharp edge of his canines gleamed behind his lips. “No, Colin, it’s not like that—”
“You’ve been looking into my head and seeing how much I want you?”
“Colin, no, I—” Seeing how much I want you. Had he really just said that?
His cheeks flushed. “While I tried to play the dumbass gentleman.”
Since when?
“Well, screw that.” His lips were right over hers, his fingers tight on her arms.
“If you’ve been in my head, then you know what I want to do to you.”
Uh, no she didn’t. Her shields had been firmly in place with him all day. Her heart was pounding so fast now, the dull drumming filled her ears. She licked her lips, tried once more to tell him the truth, “It’s not like that—”
Too late. His mouth claimed hers, swallowing her words and igniting the hungry desire she’d been trying so hard to fight.
