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I pulled slightly back from her, meeting her emerald gaze. “You’re the one who’s beautiful. Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart. How can I help?”
“You can take me to bed.”
I grinned. “There’s nothing I’d love more, but I really do need a shower.”
“No, you don’t. You’re so rugged and musky right now. So manly. So very manly.” She inhaled again. “You’re exactly what I need. All man.”
I wasn’t sure that being sweaty and dirty made me all man, but I wasn’t about to argue with her.
“Please, Jonah, take me to your bedroom.”
“All right.” I took her hand and began leading her down the hall, but when we got to the entryway kitchen, she stopped.
“I’ve never done it in the kitchen,” she said.
“You haven’t?”
She smiled timidly. “I’ve always been kind of a ‘bed only’ person. I had never done it in my office or in my living room until you.”
I raised my brows without meaning to. Was she really that innocent? Of course she was. She didn’t even like the occasional slap and tickle.
But things could change.
Things would change.
“You’re in luck,” I said. “My housekeeper was here this morning, so everything is spic and span and sanitary. What’s your pleasure?”
She looked around. “This is a beautiful kitchen. You must be a great cook.”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? Marjorie is the cook in the family. I have a personal chef who comes in once a week and prepares and freezes meals for me. I think tonight is beef stroganoff.”
“Still, it’s a gorgeous kitchen. Nothing like that tiny galley kitchen of mine.” She scanned the room, zeroing in on the island. “Your granite countertops are gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous.” I backed her up against the island, turned her around, and unzipped her dress. Then I slid it over her shoulders, breasts, and hips. I turned her back to face me.
“Beige cotton bra and panties again, Melanie?” I licked my lips. “Lace and silk certainly has its place, but nobody does cotton like you.”
She reddened, biting that gorgeous lower lip of hers. “I guess I’ve just never been the extravagant type. These do the job, and they’re affordable. And quite frankly they’re a lot more comfortable than all that lace.”
I grinned from ear to ear. “My God, you’re adorable.” I set her up on the counter.
She squealed when her thighs hit the cold granite.
I relieved her of her boots and spread her legs. “You’re wet. I can smell you.”
She reddened even further and continued to squirm.
“I could rip the cotton panties off you like the other night. What a shame that would be. Then I would owe you two pairs of panties. And I always pay my debts.” I slipped one of her bra straps off her shoulder, inhaling the lavender of her neck. “And Melanie,” I whispered in her ear, “I won’t be buying beige cotton.”
Definitely not. Satin and lace for Melanie Carmichael—green or black or—God—purple. She’d be great in purple.
She moaned when I thrust my tongue into her ear canal.
“You like that?” I asked.
She shuddered. “Oh, yes.”
I plunged into her ear again, letting her squirm, and then I nibbled on her earlobe, swirled my tongue over the shell of her ear. I blew on the wetness. She shuddered some more.
