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He smiled. Nuts or not, her candour was captivating. ‘The answer is no.’ Sitting up, he nudged the riotous curls of chestnut hair over her shoulder. ‘Not every woman.’
Her gaze came back to his and her throaty chuckle made reaction coil in his gut. ‘You must have kissed quit
e a few, though, if you can’t remember who they are.’
He stifled a groan. Busted. ‘What can I say? I had a misspent youth.’
He’d been reckless and easily bored as a teenager and had found it far too convenient to seduce women and then forget about them. Not something he was all that proud of now. But he’d eventually realised, like most hormonally charged boys when they became men, that quality was much more rewarding than quantity. And that women deserved to be savoured. And Cassie Fitzgerald was fast becoming a woman he definitely planned to savour. The only problem was, he didn’t want to rush her and risk scaring her off.
‘If it’s any consolation …’ he looped his finger in one of her curls, watched the silky hair spring back against her cheek ‘ … I can guarantee you, I pay a lot more attention now.’
Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and he felt the jolt right down to his toes.
‘We could always give it another go,’ she said, a tentative smile lifting one corner of that lush mouth. ‘If you want.’
‘That sounds like a plan,’ he murmured.
Caressing her nape, he threaded his fingers through the tendrils of hair then slanted his lips across hers. He wasn’t going to wait for a second invitation.
Cassie braced her palms against his chest as his mouth captured hers. His lips were firm, hot, demanding. His pectoral muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.
Heat scalded the pit of her stomach and radiated out, sizzling and tingling across her skin. He raised his other hand, massaged her scalp to hold her in place. She gasped as reaction raced through her, and his tongue thrust into her mouth, exploring in intimate strokes.
She clung on, poised over him as they sank into the sofa cushions—and desire spiralled and twisted inside her. It had been so long since she’d had a chance to feel a man’s heat, his mouth on hers, the hardness of his chest pressing into her breasts. And she certainly didn’t remember a kiss ever feeling this incredible.
He lifted her head, nipped her bottom lip as he stared into her eyes. His hands cradled her cheeks, his quick smile making the pulse of desire settle lower.
‘Thanks, I enjoyed that,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘For me too,’ she said, although she didn’t believe him. Anyone who kissed as well as he did had to practise regularly. ‘I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you kiss Jenny.’
He stroked her cheek, pressed his thumb into her bottom lip. ‘Have you really?’
She sat up. Why had she told him that? Talk about sad.
He skimmed his palm up her bare leg. ‘So did I live up to expectations?’
She nodded, not wanting to divulge exactly how strongly the simple kiss had affected her. It would only make her look more sad and pathetic.
‘Unfortunately I have an engagement …’ He lifted his hand to glance at his wristwatch. ‘In about half an hour. Otherwise we could take this further.’
‘That’s okay.’ She should have been relieved. He was letting her down gently. But she didn’t feel relieved, she felt disappointed. What had he meant by ‘take this further’? How much further?
He shifted, his hand resting back on her thigh, stroking lazily. ‘You could wait here until I get back,’ he said, the heavy-lidded gaze as arousing as the feel of his rough palm on her skin. ‘Although you might get bored.’ His fingers slipped under the hem of her tunic, and she shuddered. He laughed. ‘And I wouldn’t want that.’
Bored? How could she be bored when her body felt as if it were about to explode? ‘I don’t underst—’
‘Or you could come with me,’ he interrupted.
Her breath gushed out. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying but it was next to impossible as the tips of his fingers drew lazy circles on her leg. Her sex throbbed, ached, begging for him to move higher still and stroke her there.
‘Where to?’ she heard herself ask as she tried to keep up her end of the conversation.
‘The Blue Tower Restaurant,’ he murmured, mentioning London’s newest hot spot. His thumb traced the edge of her panties, then dipped underneath and her breath sawed out in a ragged pant.
Her hands fell to his shoulders, and she dug her fingers into the ridge of muscle, scared she was going to fall off the sofa. His green eyes watched her, the lids at half mast.
‘I don’t …’ She swayed towards him. What was happening? What were they talking about? Her skin flushed hot, then cold, then hot again.
