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He took another sip of his drink. His dark eyes slid down to her mouth and lingered there so long that it was like an imprint. She moved restlessly.
He took a step closer, so that there were only a few inches of space between them. She steeled herself not to feel anything.
“I don’t like your hair like that,” he commented softly. “I like it long, and soft, curving around your shoulders.”
Her heart jumped. “That’s why Dana wears hers long, I imagine. For you,” she added pointedly.
His head bent. She could smell his minty breath, feel the heat of his hard body so close to her own. She wanted to run, but that would give away far too much.
“Long hair is sexy,” he commented. His eyes were still on her mouth. He stared at it until her lips parted under the force of her quickened breath.
“Is . . . it?” she stammered.
He moved another step closer. Now he was right up against her. She could feel his warm strength, wrapping around her. “Your heart is running like an over-wound watch,” he whispered. “You still want me.”
She felt her cheeks burn. “I do not,” she said, enunciating every word.
“Liar,” he whispered.
She tried to move back, but one steely hand caught her small waist and brought her right against him. It didn’t take an experienced woman to know that he was aroused. She’d never felt a man like that, not so close. It made her uncomfortable.
“You need to . . . let me go,” she managed.
“Why?” The hand at her waist moved softly against her rib cage, edging closer to the underside of one small, pert breast.
“People . . . can see us,” she began.
He took her glass and put it on the table, along with his. He caught her arm and moved her through the crowd, right out the side door and under the awning. It was freezing cold and she had no coat.
He pulled her roughly into his arms, inside his unbuttoned suit jacket, against the warmth of his body. “You go to my head,” he ground out as his head bent. “I hate what you do to me!”
Before he finished the sentence, his hard, warm mouth was grinding into hers, demanding and insistent. There was such raw passion in the kiss that she had no defense against it. She moaned harshly against his devouring mouth.
He heard the pitiful little sound and reacted immediately. One big hand slid down her back to her hips. He pushed them hard into the thrust of his body and held them there, despite her weak protests.
“Stand still,” he bit off against her mouth. “Don’t make it worse.”
She didn’t understand what he was saying. She didn’t care. He was kissing her as if the world was ending and it was the very last chance he’d ever have to get her so close. She gave in to his ardor without even a struggle, loving the feel of his aroused body and knowing that she was responsible for it. Her short nails bit into the white shirt under his suit jacket as she pressed closer, her arms going under his, her starving body shivering . . .
He groaned in anguish. He wanted to push her up against the nearby wall, pull up her dress, and make love to her so hungrily that she’d never be able to look at another man as long as she lived. He wanted her. God, he wanted her!
He’d had just enough to drink that he was near the edge of his control. He found the zipper that held the dress in place and started to move it down.
That was when Meadow came to her senses. As much as she loved what he was doing to her, she couldn’t let this go on. There were people just inside the door, for God’s sake!
“Dal, we can’t,” she moaned against his mouth.
He drew in what he hoped was a sobering breath, but he was looking at her soft, warm, sweet mouth. He bent again, forsaking the zipper, but his big hands came around and blatantly moved over her breasts, feeling the hard tips, loving her headlong response to him.
“You’re sweet to kiss,” he whispered, nipping her lower lip. “Come home with me,” he added roughly.
She was trying to keep her senses intact. It wasn’t easy. Her head was spinning, as if she’d had too much to drink. In fact, she’d only had a sip of something alcoholic. He was like whiskey. He was sweet to kiss, too, but before she could say it, his mouth was against hers again. She felt his hands moving on her, seducing her. He was experienced, and it showed. No rushing his fences here. He teased and tempted until she was aching for anything he wanted to do to her.
“Come home with me,” he repeated against her mouth.
If she did, her life was over. She did at least know that. “You brought . . . Dana,” she protested weakly.
“Dana.” He lifted his head. It was spinning. She was heady. He hated her. Why was he trying to seduce her right outside a building full of people?
