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Luke’s palm slid up from her waist to cover her breast at the same moment Winston wedged his big body between theirs, outraged at being ignored.
They broke apart, and Jordan let out a self-conscious laugh that died in her throat at the raw desire written on Luke’s face.
He shoved his dog away before plowing his fingers into her hair again and resting his forehead against hers. “Come to bed with me.”
Had he asked, sense might have leaked in. She might have considered all the reasons why sleeping with Luke Elliott was certain career suicide.
But he didn’t ask. He wanted; he intended to take.
And she intended to give—and do some taking of her own.
Jordan lifted her eyes to his. “Okay.”
His fingers flexed in victory against her scalp before he stepped back and reached for her hand.
With the exception of a couple of high school backseat make-out sessions, most of Jordan’s sexual experience had occurred in Manhattan, where even the swankiest apartments were tiny, so the walk through Luke’s house and up the stairs to his bedroom felt endless.
The wait was worth it.
Jordan let out a little gasp as she released his hand an
d walked through the darkened room to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” she murmured, as she took in the picturesque sight in front of her.
The higher floor gave his bedroom a breathtaking view. It would be gorgeous during the day, but at night it was pure magic, the nearly full moon hovering just over the trees to illuminate the entire lake.
“I hold out on everyone,” he said quietly, coming up behind her.
His hand found her waist, but he didn’t immediately pull her toward the bed. Instead, they stood there for a long moment of companionable silence, which Jordan relished for its quiet intimacy—and feared for the very same reason.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
His head dipped forward, lips brushing over her neck. “Not exactly the Manhattan skyline.”
Jordan swallowed. He was right. It wasn’t the twinkling lights of the big city she’d always loved, and yet…
“I don’t want to talk about that,” she murmured, turning toward him.
Don’t let me think.
His lips captured hers in a kiss that was gentler than before but no less erotic. City boys didn’t kiss like this. Luke’s kiss was hotter, and a hell of a lot more skilled.
She ached for his hand on her breast, to pick up where they’d left off in the kitchen before the dog interrupted, but he made her wait, fingers idly drifting over her back as he savored her mouth as if it were fine wine—or perhaps, in his case, a cold beer on a hot day.
Jordan’s hands slipped under his shirt, delighted at the way she could feel every muscle of his impressive abs.
His breathing grew harsher as her hands grew bolder, and he reached back to pull the shirt over his head with one impatient tug.
She barely got a chance to take in the magnificence of shirtless Luke before he nudged her backward toward the bed.
Luke’s eyes locked on hers as he slowly lowered to his knees in front of her, as he defiantly removed her boots. His fingers wrapped around her ankle. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since I saw you in those damn high heels that first day.”
She bit back a moan as his finger drifted over the exposed arch of her foot. “You’ve…thought about this…my shoes?”
He eased one shoe off, then the other, setting them aside. “Hell yes.”
Somehow his succinct, no-BS answer was one of the hottest things she’d ever experienced.
