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We both pull back at the unexpected contact, but only for a second.
Our eyes lock. Heat sizzles.
And even though I’ve only sipped a half glass of wine with dinner, there must have been a hell of a lot of liquor in that chocolate sauce, because I have no other excuse for what happens next.
Dash reaches for me—and I reach right back. Suddenly, we’re kissing.
Again.
Yes.
If my kiss out in the party was playful, this one is downright smoldering. My back slams against the wall, as Dash’s mouth is on me, devouring and delicious. I reach up, pulling him closer, running my hands through his hair as I revel in the feel of him, all heat and urgency and hard, taut muscle.
Somewhere, a little voice is telling me that this is a bad idea, but it’s immediately drowned out by the thunder of heat in my veins, and the gasp I inhale as Dash tears his mouth from mine and kisses a blazing trail down my neck. I shudder with pleasure under his expert hands, roving over my curves, as his teeth finds one sundress strap and tugs, pulling the tie undone—
Reality suddenly crashes through my haze of desire.
What am I doing?
“Stop!” I blurt, pulling away. Dash immediately steps back, looking about as flustered as I feel. “I don’t… I mean, we can’t… Ground rules!” I manage to cry, before diving into my room and slamming the door in his face.
Real smooth, Callie.
I sink back against the door, still reeling. My mouth is tingling, and as for the rest of my body…
I let out a groan of frustration—and despair. Dash was literally undressing me in the hallway of his grandmother’s house. Dash, the rogue playboy I swore would have zero effect on me, inches from second base.
While I loved every minute of it.
I slide to the floor and send up a silent prayer to the Gods of self-control to see me through the rest of the weekend with my dignity—and panties—intact.
Because boy, am I in trouble now.
7
Dash
I had one job…
After a sleepless night imagining Callie in bed just down the hall—and me right there with her—I head down to take an early morning swim in the bay, hoping the chilly water and workout will act as a cold shower for my heated, uh, urges.
Because hell, after that kiss? I could use a bucket of ice.
And a chastity belt.
And a couple of boxes of Kleenex, too.
But it turns out, there’s no workout in the world that’s tough enough to distract me from the memory of Callie’s mouth… And soft breasts… And her lush hips… They haunt me with every stroke, until I have to admit it:
I’m screwed.
Or not, as the case may be.
I roll onto my back and float, gazing up at one lazy white cloud that drifts across the otherwise perfect blue sky. Who would have known that behind that smart mouth lurked all that… Heat. Sure, I clocked her curves on day one: She’s hot, no doubt about it, but a spiky, argumentative kind of hot. Hands off, annoyingly argumentative, more trouble than it’s worth hot.
Well, I stand corrected. Callie Delgado is worth a whole hell of a lot of trouble.
I catch myself fantasizing again, replaying that little breathy gasp she sounded when I kissed the spot right below her ear and give myself a mental slap. I need to get a grip—and not on her incredible body, either.
