replace it with my mouth, and then keep inching her dress down with my teeth.
“I’m fine,” I strangle out.
Fuck. My voice is an autumn rasp.
She twines her fingers through mine, my hand resting on her waist. “If you aren’t, you can tell me.”
“I know.” The words come out low.
“So? What is it?”
She’s too good at reading me.
Her soft fingertips draw circles over my hand and then dance up my arm.
I tighten my grip around her, pulling her closer, a move that only makes things worse. Her ass cheeks press against the tip of the hard line in my slacks.
The smart thing to do—the easy thing—would be to jump up and run, but I’m so drunk on this woman I can’t move.
“It’s good news, actually,” I say. “Winthrope’s sold. We’ll have the contract signed and delivered this weekend.”
She lets go of my hand and turns sideways on the chaise so we’re face-to-face. Her eyes are wide, a forest fire with the last of the dying sun. She grins so deep small dimples show, adorable dents I never noticed before.
“Holy—that’s freaking awesome! Why aren’t you popping champagne?” She elbows me playfully.
“I am. I was just thinking.”
“Ward, you’re brooding. What now?”
Just like that, I realize how screwed I am.
I can’t hide shit from this girl.
“We never got a chance to celebrate,” I say coldly.
“We will, silly. The whole office is going to freak when they find out.” Her smile reaches down inside me and lights my darkest lamp.
“No, I mean, we never got a chance to celebrate our engagement.” I swallow, catching her eyes as they dip in confusion. “Paige, we never got to celebrate like this.”
I pull her into my lap, wishing my body was less aroused by her nearness.
I want this to be sweet. Special. Spontaneous.
Goddamn. What have I turned into?
I’m still wondering as I cup her chin with my hand, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m not backing down. My finger caresses her cheek, and I inch her lips toward mine.
Nice and slow. A hungry, cherished offering.
She has plenty of time to pull away, but we’re alone up here with the entire city watching, the moon rising like this terrible signal God put there to scream, shut up and kiss her, you dolt.
And Paige doesn’t hesitate.
She sighs and whispers my name just before our lips collide in sticky rapture.
Her eyelids flutter shut, her taste undoes me, and I’m too high on this girl to stop for anything short of a brick to the head.
My tongue slides across her lips, so eager to feel her. She opens her mouth and strokes my tongue with hers, inviting me in like prey.
Her hands cradle my face, then pull with an energy that lets me know exactly how bad she wants this.
How much we’ve both been in grim denial for so long.
I slide one arm firmly around her and cover the hand on my face with my other palm.
The circles I trace over her tongue, the back of her lip, taste like a litany of sin. Every frenzied whimper slipping out of her is a one-way trip to hell become heaven.
“Oh—Ward!” she moans into my mouth.
God. If she sounds like this just kissing her, what the hell sounds will she make when I take her? When I’m finally in her?
I will be soon.
Maybe not tonight, but before this is over, I’ll claim her from the inside out.
Her hands leave my face, her blond hair a mess from my roaming fingers. Her arms lock behind my neck, and she shudders in my arms with a ragged moan.
“Paige,” I snarl her name half a second before I rake my teeth against her bottom lip.
“Oh,” she breathes, too deep in it to speak.
She moves to her knees, lifting up, straddling my waist.
Holy fuck.
I’ve got to get this situation under control, or our first time’s going to happen on the upper deck of my VIP client’s boat.
It can’t be here, not like this, even if my dick damn near turns into a blue fist and shakes at me.
Breaking our kiss, I rearrange her in my lap so she’s not straddling me anymore.
Startled green eyes connect with mine. Her face goes rosy and then crimson. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
She’s sorry?
Grinning, I shake my head and press my lips to her forehead.
“Stop. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“I—I thought you wanted—” She sucks in a breath, face redder than Winthrope’s cartoon suit, tripping all over her words. “I mean, I thought you liked—”