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She checked on Isla, who was curled up into her usual ball, her hair fanned out around her as she breathed softly against her pillow. Then she walked into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, leaning heavily on the counter, staring at the spot where Rich had been only a few hours earlier.
She hated this edgy feeling. She was usually an easy kind of person. One who took life how it came – having Isla had taught her that – but now she was all twisted up into a nervy ball and had no idea how to shake it off.
The sound of the elevator pinging echoed through the silence of her apartment. Meghan walked over to the door, pressing her eye against the peephole, knowing it could only be Rich. Gloria would be in bed for the night, and Kevin and Grant were still away. Maybe just seeing him through the glass would be enough to relax her muscles so she could finally sleep.
He stepped out of the elevator, his lips pressed tightly together. His brows pulled down in a puzzled frown as his gaze swept over her door.
Did he know she was there, spying on him? Her heart hammered against her ribcage.
Without thinking, she gripped the handle. A moment later, she was standing in the doorway, the cool air of the hall rushing over her heated skin.
Rich’s jaw twitched as he looked her over. His gaze took in her silken short pajamas, the tank clinging to her chest, revealing her tight-as-hell nipples.
His hair was raked back from his face, his skin flushed with exertion. She inhaled sharply, smelling the deep masculine scent of him.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Without a word, he walked into her apartment, his eyes dark and narrow. He reached to cup her jaw, lifting her head until their gazes clashed. Her lips parted and a soft sigh escaped, her body reacting to him with one simple touch. Then he lowered his head toward hers, his mouth claiming hers in a hard, hungry kiss.
His tongue slid between her lips, touching hers, and it sent a shot of pleasure between her thighs. Meghan hooked her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, and he groaned, his body firm and unyielding as he slid his hands into her hair.
She could feel the pulsing ridge of him, pressing exactly where she needed it. Her breasts were sensitive as they rubbed against his top. He groaned again, kissing her harder, deeper, as though he couldn’t get enough. She arched against him, and he slid his hand down her back, over her behind, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.
With one easy movement, he hooked her thigh around his hip, deepening the pressure of his excitement against her, making every nerve ending in her body vibrate with need. Then he lifted her other thigh around him, sliding his hands beneath her to hold her against him, his tongue plundering hers as he spun them around to press her against the door.
The roughness of his beard growth rubbed against her skin, his breath hot against her lips. She kissed him back, aching and needy, her hips moving in circles against him.
This wasn’t just a kiss. It was sex with clothes on. Pleasure was coiling deep inside her, making her needy as hell. With one hand beneath her, he lifted the other to trail his fingers over her hip, her waist, the swell of her breast. Her skin sung at his touch, making her gasp into his mouth. Rich let out a grunt of approval, sliding his thumb between their bodies, brushing the pad against her aching nipple.
The roughness of his body against her aching core was delicious. He knew exactly where she needed him, his thick length teasing and coaxing the pleasure until her brain couldn’t form a coherent thought.
“Rich,” she gasped, as he finally broke away to take a breath. “I’m going to…”
His eyes flew open, as though she’d broken the spell he’d been under. Without warning, he released his hold on her, stepping back until she slid down the door, her feet hitting the ground with a thud. Cool air wrapped around her body, her skin protesting at the sudden withdrawal of his warmth.
“Fuck.” Rich slammed his open palm against the wall. A muscle flickered angrily against his jaw. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, taking a step back. “I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling heavily.
Meghan desperately tried to think of something to say. It’s okay, you almost made me come. No, that wasn’t what he needed right now. Or what she needed. She blinked, confused at the sudden change in his body language, her chest rising and falling rapidly in an attempt to regain some oxygen.
“I have to go.” His voice was thick and rough. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He held his body taut, his eyes cold and flinty, and for a moment, they connected with hers.
And then he turned on his heel and walked out of her apartment into the hall, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Her door softly closed, and a moment later she heard his slam.
She leaned her head on the cold wall, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Dear Lord, the man knew how to kiss. But she had no idea how she was going to face him in the morning. She’d been a few seconds away from an orgasm while fully dressed. She knew it and he knew it.
And now they were going to have to find a way to deal with it.
“I’m sorry.” Carlyn’s eyes were shining, her face crumpled into embarrassment. “I don’t know what came over me, I really don’t. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
He’d left his apartment like a ninja this morning, practically tiptoeing past Meghan’s door, breathing a sigh of relief when he made it into the elevator without coming face to face with Meghan. Because he was an asshole and had no idea what to say to explain his behavior from last night.
On the plus side, it made him even more determined to put Carlyn in her place.
He held her gaze. “You’d better not. Because I’m not kidding, the next time I’m calling the police.”
Carlyn let out a ragged sigh, pressing her lips together. She looked genuinely upset, as though she finally realized what she’d done.
