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“It was,” he said, smiling with chagrin. “It was going to be my summation. But that’s what it boils down to, Elle.”
She had to admit that it was a strong argument, but she resented how easily he’d snared her. “I’ll have to give it some serious thought.”
“That’s fair.”
“There’s alotto think about.”
“I realize that. I’ve thought about it for two months. You’ve had two days.”
“So I’ll need time.”
“Granted.”
“And I won’t be rushed.”
“No pressure.”
“When I compare my lifestyle with yours—”
“We’ll createourlifestyle.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Another irreparable heartbreak.”
“I understand why you would be, but you don’t have to be.”
“The timing of this is the worst possible.”
“It is, yes.”
“What if—”
“Elle,” he interrupted quietly. “A free piece of advice. When the other party is saying yes to everything, stop negotiating.” He palmed her jaw and aligned his lips with hers. “Otherwise, the other party might detect a weakening of your position.”
Then he was kissing her, his tongue sleek and searching, and she was lost and she knew it. Paradoxically, she reveled in her misguidedness.
One intoxicating kiss evolved into another without any separation of their mouths. With a hand on the small of her back, he pulled her more securely against him and wedged his knee between her thighs. She slid her hand past his rib cage and down the yummy trail.
Then, with a start, she yanked her hand back. “Where’s your underwear?”
“On the floor, I think,” he mumbled as he sought her mouth again.
“This whole time, you haven’t been wearing underwear?”
“It’s been pure hell.” He reached beneath the covers, found her hand, and molded it around his penis. “Till now.”
They stroked together; then he withdrew his hand and gave her free will. When she whispered, “I want to see,” he bicycled his legs to push off the covers.
Lord, he was gorgeous. Each muscle was long and toned, skin tightly stretched over his lean frame, a perfect dusting of body hair that changed texture and narrowed into the satiny stripe that bisected his lower torso and pointed toward his sex. Not that it needed anything to call attention to it.
It was hot-blooded and hungry. A bead of semen clung to its straining tip. She swiped it onto the pad of her thumb, lifted it to her mouth, sucked it off.
Calder watched with eyes that grew dark and intense. He growled, “I think you’re writing the wrong kind of books.”
After she suggestively pulled her thumb from her mouth, he sealed it with another passionate kiss. Then, breathing hard, he said, “I want to see, too,” and began unbuttoning the pajama top. It was so large for her, it was easy to shrug off and leave crumpled beneath her.
