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Chapter Seven
She opened the door. And there he was. Nearly two metres of drop-dead gorgeous man. How was she supposed to—
Before her befuddled brain could form another thought, he was inside her flat and had closed the door behind him. She backed up a few steps; he came closer. She tried to move again, but the wall was behind her and she stopped breathing.
Slowly, he moved closer and closer until their toes met. He put his hands on the wall on either side of her body, effectively trapping her. His face was impossible to read. He stared down at her for what felt like ages.
“So,” he finally said. “You would like me to kiss you again?”
“That… that’s not what I said, I said—”
“You said you’d like me to kiss you again. I was there. I heard the words.”
Zoe closed her eyes so she could think. With him so close to her, it had become impossible to do. “I also said—”
He bent his head so that they were cheek to cheek, his mouth right next to her ear. She could smell red wine on his breath. Delicious tingles swooped up and down her back.
“I don’t want to hear that part again. Ever. No other man can kiss you, attractive or otherwise,” he whispered in her ear.
His words robbed her of any rational thought. “Dale, please, I—” That was as far as she got.
With a groan, his lips claimed hers. She gasped, trying to get air into her oxygen-starved lungs, but his tongue dove in and joined hers. At which point breathing became unimportant, really.
Her hands landed on his upper arms, his scent filled her senses, and she was lost. Sensations raced through her body, heating her blood, sending her hormones into overdrive.
She moved closer to him and his arms folded around her, pulling her flush against his body. He was all toned muscle and, where their bodies met, hard as a rock.
Unsteady fingers released her ponytail from the elastic that was holding it in place and combed through her hair.
Muttering, he buried his face in her hair. “You smell like rain. No one else smells like this, just you,” he whispered before he claimed her mouth again.
His words inflamed her overstimulated senses further, and she lifted herself on her toes so she could curl her arms around his neck. She didn’t want this to ever end.
Hands swept down her side, awakening every nerve ending in their wake. How was it possible to be twenty-seven and never to have experienced so much emotion in so short a span of time?
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, her brain was trying to be heard, was trying to tell her to push him away, but her body wasn’t paying any attention. Instead, it was begging to be touched, to be caressed. He obviously knew what he was doing, and her whole being was lapping up every sensual stroke.
Restlessly, his hands moved beneath her top and he touched her naked flesh. The sensation of his hands on her inflamed skin buckled her knees and he pressed her back against the wall without lifting his mouth from hers. He parted her legs with his one knee and pressed his leg against her heat. Her pulse went into overdrive.
He lifted his head and looked down at her. His breath was erratic, his eyes molten liquid. She shivered.
Slowly, he unbuttoned her flannel jacket, never taking his eyes from hers. Talking, thinking, breathing became impossible. She could only feel—the heat of his fingers where they brushed against her skin, his unsteady breath against her face, his muscled upper arm rippling under her fingers.
By the time he’d finished, she’d forgotten her own name. He moved the panels of the jacket to the side, put his hands again on either side of her head on the wall, and stared down at her for endless minutes. Although he didn’t touch her, her body reacted to his heated gaze, her nipples hardened, her breasts felt heavy as if he were already touching them.
“You’re so, so beautiful,” he whispered and bent down to kiss her mouth again while his hands remained on the wall behind her.
Frustration clawed at her insides. Why didn’t he touch her, why didn’t he take her to bed, make love to her… But then slowly reason intruded through the fog of need. She had to work with him, for him, she shouldn’t be kissing him, let alone be standing nearly naked in front of him. What was she thinking?
“Dale.” She tried to speak but his lips wouldn’t let hers go.
*
From far away,Dale heard Zoe’s voice, but he was so focused on kissing her, he didn’t want to listen. He shouldn’t have come here tonight. He shouldn’t be kissing her, shouldn’t have opened her jacket because now he’d seen her, touched the velvet texture of her skin, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget it.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so hard for a woman. All he could think of was getting as close to her as was humanly possible, to bury himself so deep inside of her they would become one. Because he was afraid that was the only way he would be able to still this desperate need that was wreaking havoc inside of him.
Her hands pushed against his upper body and, gasping, he lifted his head.
