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“Put that on.” She waved at his chest, her gaze landing everywhere but on him.
Matt shrugged into the shirt, but he left the buttons alone. He was too busy staring.
The dress was all wrong; the shoes were ridiculous. Her hair was nice; he liked it down, and the way the light played across the strands made him think of the sun slanting through autumn leaves. But whatever she’d put on her lips, which he’d done his best to lick off, had stuck there, along with the brown gunk on her eyelids and some orangey stuff on her cheeks.
She didn’t look like Gina at all. However, when she spoke she sounded exactly like the Gina who’d kicked him off her ranch.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded.
“You forgot to close the door.”
She waved her hand again, and he was distracted by the copper sparkle on each and every nail. He hated it.
“I meant, why did you kiss me?”
“I thought…” He had to pause and force himself to stop staring at her nails, her lips, those stupid, stupid shoes. “You wanted me to.”
She snorted, sounding more like Spike than Spike. “Why would I want that?”
“You ran into the room, threw yourself into my arms, said, ‘Matt,’ and—” He frowned. Then things kind of blended together.
“I did run into the room—the faster to kill you, my dear.” Matt’s frown deepened. “Then I tripped, said, ‘Ass!’ and grabbed onto you to keep from falling.” Her gaze went to the bed, stuck on the tangled bedclothes, then jerked back to his. “It didn’t work.”
“You’re sure you said ‘ass,’ not ‘Matt’?”
“Since you introduced yourself as Teo,” she practically spit the name across the room like a rotten watermelon seed, “I’d hardly call you Matt.”
He went back over what had happened, which did not help the erection from Tokyo. Even though she didn’t look anything like Gina, she smelled like her and she talked like her and when he’d touched her and kissed her she’d been her—the woman he’d probably never stop wanting to touch.
And why was that? He’d had his hands on plenty of women. They’d been nice, but he’d never been desperate for one brief brush of their lips the way he was desperate, even now, for one more brief brush of Gina’s.
“Wait a second,” he said. “You stroked my hair.”
“Yanked on it. I was trying to get you off me.”
Now that Matt thought about it, she had pulled kind of hard. At first. Then she’d shoved her fingers in, right before she’d wrapped them around his neck and given him the tongue.
Matt shook his head.
Gina’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you shaking your head?”
“You kissed me back.”
“In your dreams, Mecate.”
She had been in his dreams, and from the sudden blush across her cheeks, the color so much more appealing than the false one she’d brushed there, he’d been in hers.
“I know a tongue when I feel one,” he said. And her hands had been all over his chest, not pushing him away, either, but stroking his ribs, his collarbone, his shoulders, and more.
He shifted those shoulders, feeling again those hands. Her gaze lowered to his stomach and stuck there. Then her blush deepened, and he couldn’t help but smile.
Bad idea. Because her gaze jerked back to his and she flipped.
“I know someone’s hand on my rear when I feel one, too. You play a lot of grab ass with your students?”
“No!” His smile folded into a grimace. “That’s disgusting.”
“I bet three-quarters of the coeds are far from disgusting. More like the As than like me.”
