demanding? Tender? Romantic? Too lost to speak? She really needed to get a grip. She had so much pent-up sexual frustration she felt like a cat in heat.
She lifted her chin and said, “I left him unsatisfied.” Just as she’d been leaving men for more than a year.
His eyes drilled into her. “None of those guys are good enough for you.”
“I’m not with them, am I?” she countered.
“You sure as hell aren’t, and there’s a reason. You’re your own woman, baby. Smart, confident, challenging. But you’re wrong in your assumptions, and one day you’ll realize that.” He leaned in, speaking just above a whisper. “A few weeks ago you were so close to finding all the answers you’re looking for.”
He trailed his rough hands up her arms and rested them on her bare shoulders. His fingers moved lightly along her skin, making her insides turn to liquid heat. He pressed forward, bringing his entire body flush with hers. He touched his cheek to hers. His scruff prickled her skin, and her mind traveled down that dirty path again. What would those whiskers feel like as they kissed?
“Your place, baby. Remember?” He spoke directly into her ear in a gravelly voice that sent pangs of lust darting through her. “The night of the storm.”
Geez! Had he read her mind earlier? Heard her thoughts?
That night came rushing back, making her heart thunder and her body want. They’d gotten soaked in the storm, and when they’d come inside, Justin had peeled off his shirt, revealing planes of toned, wet flesh and dark ink. She’d wanted to lick the droplets off his glistening skin as he’d tipped his head back and guzzled a glass of water. She could still see those trails dripping down his abs to the waist of his low-slung jeans. When he’d set down his glass and turned, they’d been almost in this exact same position, only she’d been leaning against the counter. She wasn’t usually attracted to tattoos, but they looked beautiful and dangerous on Justin. The good kind of dangerous. Like the dark fantasies she’d had about him ever since.
“You remember,” he whispered in her ear. “You felt it, too.”
She’d felt it then as strongly as she did now. She pressed her lips together to keep from admitting the truth—her body was on fire. But she couldn’t do this. She didn’t want a one-night stand or a broken heart. She had to regain control before she either combusted or took the kiss she craved.
Steeling herself against the raging inferno between them, she narrowed her eyes and said, “All I remember from that night was you walking out my door.”
“Is that so?” he asked in a seductive growl, gazing entrancingly into her eyes. He ran his hand up her outer thigh and hip, squeezing gently as he leaned in again and said, “You don’t remember getting wet? I know you felt it, sweet thing, just like you feel it pulsing inside you right now, burning through your veins, making you crave more. You feel it in those inescapable vibrations that are making it difficult for you to think. No man on earth can make you feel like I do.”
She pressed her thighs together. Lord help her. She was no match for this man.
He brushed his scruff along her cheek and said, “Feel that clench in your belly? The dampness in your panties?” He squeezed her hip again. “The way your pulse just skyrocketed when I talked about your panties?”
A strangled, lustful sound escaped before she could stop it. She clenched her mouth shut to keep anything else from coming out.
“You hesitated the night of the storm, sweetheart. That’s why I left,” he said authoritatively into her ear, then softer, “I’ll never force myself on you.” He drew back, pinning her in place with another hungry stare. “When you stop running and give in to what you really want, you’ll feel like this every time we’re together. Only better, because you’ll know you’re mine.”
He licked his lips, and holy mother of hotness, she could barely breathe.
“See you back at the table, sexy girl.”
He walked away, and the air rushed from her lungs. Her head fell back against the wall, and she tried to catch her breath. How the hell was she going to make it through the night at the same table with the man who nearly made her come with nothing more than the hard press of his body and a few sinful sentences?
THERE WAS NOTHING cool about having a