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“Turn around, Caroline.”
His words weren’t a request. She couldn’t resist doing as he said. She closed her eyes, waiting, wondering what he intended. When she felt his big, strong hands on her shoulders, felt him begin to stroke, squeeze and knead the stiff muscles there, she gave a nearly inaudible sigh of pleasure.
“You’re tight.”
Yes.
“Wound like a spring.”
“Umm-hmm,” she mumbled, dropping her head to the side and closing her eyes as he continued to knead and work on the knots that had once been her muscles and were now quickly turning into lumps of jelly. She could feel the transformation as he eased out every bit of stress tension in her body.
Only to replace it with tension of a different kind.
“Your skin is still so incredibly soft.”
His words were spoken softly, nearly whispered, but Caro heard them, inhaled them, let them wash over her, causing as much warmth as his touch.
She should protest. She should step away, throw up a physical barrier or at least a verbal one. But she couldn’t move, other than to shiver. Couldn’t speak other than to sigh.
She’d waited eight years to have this man’s hands on her again. Eight long years when no one else’s touch could ever really reach that place deep inside her that had always reacted to Mick.
He lifted her hair away from her neck and she felt his breath touch her skin, bringing prickles of sensation. He moved even closer, filling in that nearly imperceptible gap until his front touched her back, from shoulder to hip. And lower.
She caught her breath, held it, not moving as he continued to knead her muscles and breathe lightly against her neck.
One small shift, a lift of her chin, a turn of her head, and that beautiful, perfect male mouth would be on her lips.
She wanted that kiss more than she’d ever wanted anything.
“Too bad that love seat is so small,” he murmured with a deep chuckle.
Perhaps awolfishchuckle? She stiffened.Dammit.
“Stop it.” She whirled around, nearly smacking his forehead with hers. “Try your tricks on someone who’s a lot more susceptible to them.”
He raised an innocent hand to his chest and gave her a silent “Who, me?” look.
“God, you’re good,” she said, knowing he could tell by her tone that her words were no compliment. “You’re so smooth, so assured. I can’tbelieveI started to fall for it.”
He gave her a reproachful look. “I was trying to help. You looked ready to explode.”
Explode, yeah. A few more touches, maybe even just that one kiss, and she would have. Only not the way he meant.
“Sure you were. Help me get flat on my back on that love seat.”
He didn’t so much as look away out of guilt as he quirked one amused brow. “Actually, I wanted you flat on your front.”
Oh, good Lord, the wicked thoughts that put into her head. She gulped. “You’re sick.”
He tsked. “And you’ve got a naughty mind.”
She paused, not sure what he meant.
“You thought I wanted a bigger sofa so I could, what, make love to you right here in your office where anyone could walk in? Tempt you into doing something so dangerous, so incredibly erotic, strip off that silky blouse, tug down that tight skirt, get you naked and moaning where we could be caught by anyone from your boss to a man with a camera?”
Well, yeah. That’s what she’d thought, only not quite in those graphic and—heaven help her—delicious terms.
“Yes.”
