When he’d reached the sink where she stood, he dipped his fingers into the jar of cream, scooping out enough to coat both of his hands. Her body hummed with arousal. He moved behind her, staring at their joined reflections in the mirror. A slow, sensual smile curved his mouth. And then he cupped her breasts.
Lexi gasped with pleasure.
He began to massage the cream into her breasts with a circular motion, starting from the outside and deliberately working his way toward her dark, distended nipples. He brushed his thumbs against them, gently rubbing and circling the areolae. Jolts of sensation raced to her groin. Her thighs shook, and her clitoris pulsed.
Quentin kneaded and caressed her breasts until they glistened and her eyes were glazed with desire. As his warm lips nuzzled the side of her throat, one hand began to slide down the front of her body. Her heart thundered. She trembled with anticipation, ached with need. And then his fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of her panties and touching—
“Lex? You okay in there?”
The sound of Quentin’s voice snapped Lexi out of her erotic trance.
She stared in wide-eyed shock at her reflection in the mirror. At the sight of her sharply thrusting nipples, she gasped and flung her arms across her breasts. As if she could hide the evidence of her arousal from herself.
“Lex?” Quentin prompted again.
“I—I’m fine.” Her voice was shaky.
“Are you sure? You made a noise. Like you were in pain.”
Oh, God,she thought, cheeks flaming with mortification. Had she actually moanedout loud?
“I, uh, dropped something on my foot. But I’m fine. Really.”
After a prolonged moment of silence, Quentin said gruffly, “I’ll let you get dressed.”
Yes! Please go away!“I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
When he’d gone, she let out a deep, shuddering breath and leaned weakly against the sink, her hands braced on the counter for support.
What the hell was she doing? Having erotic fantasies about Quentin?Quentin?He was her best friend, for goodness’ sake! Her confidant. The absolutelastman on earth she should ever be lusting after. Yet that was exactly what she was doing. The steamy daydream had seemed so real, so shockingly explicit, that she’d been on the verge of climaxing before Quentin interrupted her.
Lexi groaned, bending over the sink to splash cold water on her flushed face. This was allhisdamn fault. Him and that scorching New Year’s Eve kiss that had awakened all sorts of feelings and desires she’d never known existed. If he hadn’t acted on a reckless impulse and kissed her that night, she wouldn’t be standing here now—breathless and weak-kneed, with painfully erect nipples and a throbbing clitoris. And that was just from a fantasy! How much worse off would she be if he’d actually been inside the bathroom, doing those wickedly delicious things to her? If he’d actually made love to her?
A deep shudder swept through her.Don’t even go there,she ordered herself.You and Quentin Reddick will not be doing the horizontal tango. Not in this lifetime!
No matter how sexy Quentin was—and man, was he ever—she couldn’t allow herself to become romantically involved with him. If one stolen kiss could wreak such havoc on their friendship, making love would irrevocably alter the course of their lives. And considering that she’d spent the past two years trying to rebuild her life, the last thing Lexi needed was more emotional upheaval.
Dragging in a deep breath, she tugged on an old Spelman T-shirt and black leggings.
When she’d finished dressing, she surveyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. As part of her post-divorce makeover, she’d had her hair cut into a short bob with longish bangs that swooped over one eye. It was chic, sleek and sexy, and the many compliments she’d received had given her a nice ego boost—something she’d needed desperately after Adam’s humiliating betrayal. The best part about the bob was that she could wear it straight and it still looked good. So she didn’t have to worry about curling her hair now to look presentable for Quentin. Besides, he’d seen her wearing big rollers on her head, ugly flannel pajamas and a cucumber mask on her face. Why let vanity get in the way now?
Sufficiently satisfied that she’d wrestled her rampant hormones into submission, Lexi left her bedroom and went in search of Quentin.
She found him in the kitchen, standing at the microwave built into the mahogany paneled cabinets. He’d shed his dark suit jacket and tie, tossing both over the back of a chair at the breakfast table. His white broadcloth shirt was untucked from his pants, the sleeves rolled up to strong forearms dusted with black hair. Lexi stared at the way his wide, muscular shoulders tapered down to narrow hips and those endlessly long legs.
Her mouth went dry. Had he always radiated such raw masculine energy? Such sex appeal? If so, how in the world had she remained immune all these years?
At that moment he glanced over his shoulder—and stared at her with an arrested expression on his face.
Pulse thudding, Lexi shifted self-consciously from one foot to another. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” His lazy gaze ran the length of her. “That shirt you’re wearing. It gave me flashbacks to college.”
Except in college, I didn’t fantasize about you stealing into my bathroom and running your hands all over my naked body.
Heat suffused her face.
