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He patiently drew them down and lifted each of my feet before tossing the pearl gray lace on top of my sweater. He slowly drew up my skirt, gathering the flimsy cotton with his fingers inch by inch. All the while his thumbs trailed a lazy path along my inner thighs.
No words.
Barely any breath.
Intent infused every touch, his watchful gaze, the silence of the vestibule—all of it ratcheted up my anxiety. As the air kissed the tops of my thighs, I lifted my hands to my chest.
“Don’t cover yourself.” His voice was sandpaper over silk. “I want to see you. I want to see everything.”
And he was still wearing his suit.
“What if I want to see too?”
His arched an eyebrow. “All right.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket. My skirt fell back down to shield me, and his eyes went hot. “Pull it up.”
I lowered my arms and twisted my shaky fingers into the slinky material. I swallowed. “Like this?” I tugged my skirt up an inch.
“More.” He jerked at his tie, but didn’t take it off.
“I want more.” My voice shook, but I steeled myself. If this was my one and only night with him, I wanted everything.
He flicked open a button near his throat. The stark lines of his collarbone and strong, corded neck left my mouth dry. He moved the tie a little more and another flash of ink teased out of the white cotton.
He stood. “The zipper, Ms. Copeland.”
I tipped my chin up to meet his gaze. “Seems unfair that I’m naked and you’re clothed.”
“I took off my jacket.”
That was it? There was so much more of him to see.
He crowded into me and planted his feet on either side of my boots until I was utterly surrounded. My breath stalled, but I didn’t break eye contact. He grazed his hand along the front of my belly to the little zipper at my side. The rasp of teeth opening seemed so loud.
My skirt eased down my hips and held on for a moment thanks to the curve of my ass. He tucked his fingertips into the space where the material parted, leaving a rush of goosebumps in his wake before the skirt gave up and pooled around my ankles. He encircled my wrists, his pupils dilating in reaction.
I moved into him. The silk blend of his vest whispered over one breast, and the c
risp cotton of his shirt teased along the other. I wasn’t sure what to do. Being an active participant in seduction was new.
I drew my calf up his leg. His slacks were the kind of material that designers sweated over. Soft, strong, textured, and cut to accentuate every line of his long legs.
He nudged me back against the glass, and lifted my hands over my head, braceleting both of mine with one long-fingered hand. He slid his cheek against mine until his lips brushed my ear. “From the moment you walked into my office, I knew I wanted you like this.”
I shuddered. Was I supposed to say something after that kind of statement? Did he think this was a foregone conclusion?
He angled down and dragged his lips along my jawline, my chin, and then finally each corner of my lips. Because he was so much taller than me, the light struck his face completely. No shadows to hide behind. The wild need and the granite control stormed through his eyes. The gold fire and green calm were at war.
I wanted him to break.
I struggled against his hold. “You wanted this? Or you want me? Would any girl do for this fantasy, Mr. Carson?”
The muscle in his jaw jumped.
He lined up our lips until there was only breath between us. “It’s you. It’s always been you,” he said.
Always?
The question didn’t have a chance to take root in my consciousness. It drifted away under the power of his kiss. Desperation slipped out from under his shields and devoured me. I tried to hold onto sanity and my own slice of reserves, but he swept me up into the maelstrom of unguarded passion.
