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“I am.” He seriously wanted to push her back on his bed and settle between her thighs and seriously make her orgasm over and over.
“No, you’re not.”
She thought not? He shrugged. “I imagine the honeymoons aren’t bad.”
She rolled her eyes. “You would think that.”
“You asked.” He picked up a strawberry and placed the fruit on her plump lips.
Her pupils dilated as she stared at him with a “What are you doing?” expression, but she took a bite of the berry, wiping at the juice that covered her lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His pants shrunk around him, restraining him. What would she do if he really did push her back on the bed, stripped those hideous pajamas off her, and ran his tongue over her, tracing a path to her core and dipping inside?
“What are you doing, Vale?”
His gaze shot to hers, saw the uncertainty shining in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“This.” She spread her arm toward the tray. “I’m your colleague, not your girlfriend. You shouldn’t be serving me breakfast in bed or feeding me strawberries. This is crazy.”
“This weekend, for all intents and purposes, you are my girl.”
“Vale…” She took a deep breath, swallowed. “I won’t be used just because I’m convenient.”
Convenient? “You think I want to make love to you because you’re convenient?”
“Let’s be real here, Vale. We’ve known each other for months and you’ve not exactly had to hold yourself back to keep from ripping my clothes off.”
He couldn’t deny her claim. Yet… “You’re different from the other women in my life, Faith. You have been from the beginning.”
“Because I’m one of the few women under forty you haven’t jumped into bed with,” she pointed out with a snort that didn’t come across as being quite natural.
“Actually…” he gestured to where they were “…I have jumped into bed with you, but that isn’t the point.”
She regarded him with obvious frustration and confusion. “Just how many women have you jumped into bed with that you haven’t had sex with?”
“None,” he answered immediately.
“One,” she corrected, picking up a strawberry and biting into the juicy flesh.
“Yet.” Because he was damned sure he was going to make love to her soon. Today. Never had he wanted a woman so much. But he shouldn’t make love to her. Deep in the recesses of his brain, he knew he should keep his hands off Faith.
“I thought we decided to end this madness last night with the kiss on the beach? That our having sex would ruin our professional relationship?”
“Tell me, Faith, when you closed your eyes last night, did memories of that kiss fill your head as you drifted to sleep? Did you dream about me waking you with my hands on your body, my mouth on yours?”
“No.”
But she was lying. That was why she’d touched his face, his lips. She’d been wondering what them making love would be like.
“When I came in here last night, found you in my bed, I wanted to strip you naked and make love to you. Good thing you were asleep or I might have.”
With a guilty wince, she averted her gaze. “You were drunk.”
“If I’d been drunk, we’d be having a morning after.” Stone-cold sober, it had taken all his willpower not to pull her to him and kiss away any objection she made.
“A morning after where you reminded me that sex with you means nothing?” Her brow lifted accusingly. “That I’m nothing more than a quick rumble between your sheets which I’ve already told you I refuse to be?”
Was that what he’d be telling Faith if they’d had sex? It was what he’d be reminding any other woman of, what he’d have stressed long before they’d got to the bedroom. Yet the thought of telling Faith that she meant nothing to him other than mutual physical satisfaction didn’t sit well with his conscience.
