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“Sure, tomorrow.”
She walked into the house, and he followed her. A thoroughly stupid man.
“Have a seat,” Ellen said, pointing him toward the living room as she slipped through the back patio door into the kitchen. “I’m going to put the pizza in the fridge.”
By the time she reemerged, he was sitting on her plush white couch, and he’d remembered what he was supposed to say. But he couldn’t look at her without wanting to rip her clothes off, so he kept his eyes on his clasped hands as he said it.
“I wanted to apologize. For sending Bill and Matthias over here without your permission.”
“You apologize? I didn’t know men actually did that.” Her bare feet came into view. Those sexy red toenails. When he looked up, dark nipples greeted him through white fabric, hardening to peaks as he stared for far longer than was polite.
He lowered his eyes, but it was too late. His hands reached out and found her waist, and his head fell forward until it rested against her stomach.
“It’s not very manly of you,” she said.
“I’ve got sisters. I understand the value of a sincere apology.”
“Fair enough. Apology accepted. Can I ask you something?”
“What’s that?”
“Did you mean it earlier, when you said you’re attracted to me? You weren’t just teasing me, or trying to get me to do what you wanted?”
He found the bottom of her shirt and lifted it to expose the dark indentation of her navel. She’d turned the kitchen light on, but the living room was dim, and the sideways illumination caught the fine, downy hair on her arms and made it glow. He brushed his lips over her stomach. So fucking soft. Her flesh pebbled with goose bumps when he breathed against it.
“I want you, Ellen.” His hands slid up her bare back to cup the delicate wings of her shoulder blades and draw her closer, while his mouth found a path that led north from her belly button. “So bad.”
He should have said something different, something more considerate of her feelings or his honor. Told her he wasn’t the kind of person who’d use sex to manipulate a woman. But all he could think about was getting his hands and his mouth on more of her skin, which made it hard to see the point.
“Show me,” she whispered.
“Don’t you think we’d better slow this down?” He lifted her shirt a little higher and kissed the underside of her breasts, his own answer to the question. As he straightened to standing, his hands moved to the caps of her shoulders, and when she lifted her arms, he started pulling the shirt off over her head. “I was hoping to ask you—”
But then he got a good look at her, her breasts full and lush, nipples bunched. Her damp hair spread out over her shoulders and plastered against her neck. Whatever he’d been about to say evaporated, and he kissed her so hard their teeth collided. She did something with her breath, a happy exhale that was like a laugh, fanning out over his face. Caleb cupped her head in his hands, held her still, and went after her with no finesse and no control whatsoever.
The kiss was pure, distilled sex. Greedy. Hungry. When he slid his tongue into her mouth, she met it, a slick, explicit welcome that tasted like the best kind of homecoming, sweet and spicy as the cinnamon in her hair. Softer than he’d even hoped, her breasts, her stomach pliant and sweet pressing up against him. Her hands on his shoulders. On his neck. Slipping over his biceps.
He moved a leg between her thighs. His hands found her ass, fingers toying with the hem of her ridiculous shorts and his palms full of denim.
His dick made impatient demands. Take her on the couch. Take her against that wall. Take her on the fucking floor, just get those clothes off her and get inside her NOW.
Greedy bastard. Caleb backed off, needing to breathe and slow the hell down, but Ellen made a mewling noise and pulled his head back to hers. She kissed him this time, bit his lip, just as aggressive as he’d been. The small amount of blood he needed to operate his brain got reassigned to the raging hard-on pressing against her hip.
He gave up and let his hands roam over every part of her they could reach. She was perfect. Everything about her. Perfect.
Still gripping his head, Ellen pushed him away and looked him in the eye. “Right now, Caleb. No messing around. I want you inside me, taking me so hard I can’t see straight, and if you don’t—”
He covered her mouth with his palm to shut her up. “I will. Jesus. Hold that thought.”
Leaving her there, he crossed to the back of the room, where he closed and locked the French doors. He passed swiftly into the kitchen and closed and locked the side door. Back through to the entryway. She hadn’t moved. He closed and locked the front door.
He was as capable of resisting temptation as the next guy. Maybe more so. But this wasn’t temptation. This was Ellen, talking dirty and begging him to have sex with her, and how could anyone resist that? No man could. He sure as hell couldn’t.
Straight down the hall to her bedroom, he lowered the damn blinds.
And then he went back to the living room, hauled her into his arms, and kissed her again. Slower this time. Thoroughly. If he was going to have her—and he was—he’d do it properly.
Smooth, silky skin. Warm, willing woman. She moaned encouragement, sliding her tongue into his mouth and sending a jolt of lust straight to his cock that felt like pure joy.
