around her, he pushed her against the door, and he kissed her.
The darkness whirled around her. His mouth was hard against hers, the intensity of its demand shocking.
She put her hands on his chest to push him away, but then the kiss changed. It became gentle, tender.
She hesitated. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Really kiss her. She’d been curious ever since that frustrating half kiss he’d given her the night of the basketball game. And now she knew. She knew…oh, dear heaven! She knew it felt wonderful to be kissed by Garek Wisnewski. He was so big, she would have thought he would crush her, but he held her so lightly, so gently, it was like being cradled in a cocoon. But at the same time, there was nothing soft about him. His body felt hard and muscled, his lips firm against hers. Rippling sensations flowed over, around and all the way through her. She liked being kissed by him. She liked the way his mouth felt on her lips and her chin and her neck…
She felt his fingers undoing the buttons of her coat; his hands burrowed underneath, stroking her sides. That felt good, too. She reached up, entwining her fingers in his hair, pressing herself closer to him.
His hands slipped down the velvet of her dress to her waist, then up to the undercurve of her breasts, then down to the tops of her hips. And then back up again until his thumbs were resting against the sides of her breasts.
She was aware, suddenly, that she was on the verge of breaking some tenuous thread of restraint, of allowing herself to go beyond what she’d intended. She’d only wanted to know what it was like to kiss him. She hadn’t intended it to go any further than that. She hadn’t expected to feel like this. To want him so intensely…
But she did. She didn’t care about anything else. She only wanted the kiss to go on and on…she wanted him to touch her breasts. She wanted him to touch her all over—to make love to her…
The door suddenly pushed against her back, thrusting her forward. Garek held on to her, stepping backward, pulling her with him. The light flashed on, blinding her as a familiar voice said, “Something’s blocking the door…oh!”
Ellie blinked at Martina, who stood openmouthed in the doorway, her boyfriend behind her.
“Martina! What are you doing here?” Aware, suddenly, of Garek’s arms around her, Ellie stepped away from him.
Martina’s wide-eyed gaze flickered back and forth between Ellie and Garek. “The road was snowed under…we’re going to drive up tomorrow afternoon instead…I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!”
“You’re not interrupting.” Ellie wondered if she looked as self-conscious as she felt. “Hi, Billy. Come sit down.”
“Uh, thanks, but I have to go,” he muttered with an uneasy glance at Garek’s stony face. “See ya tomorrow, Martina.”
“Bye, Billy.” Once Billy left, Martina started sidling toward her room. “Uh, I’m really tired.” She faked a yawn. “I better go to bed now. Good night!” She scuttled the last few steps into her bedroom.
Garek turned back to Ellie, his eyes dark and intense. “Come to my apartment with me.” His voice was low and husky.
“No.” She glanced away from his compelling gaze.
He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night, then. At my apartment.”
The expression in his eyes made her tremble. She knew she should say no. She had to say no. She opened her mouth to say no.
“Yes,” she whispered.
A light blazed in his eyes and he gave her a quick hard kiss. “Until tomorrow.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter Eight
Ellie found it difficult to concentrate on work the next day. She hung a painting, moved a sculpture and worked on balancing the accounts. Unfortunately, she hung the painting upside down, dropped the sculpture—the head broke off—and could not get the accounts to balance no matter how many times she checked the numbers.
Finally, she gave up all pretense of working and sank onto the flat, leather bench that sat in the middle of the gallery so people could sit and look at the art. Coincidentally, it also gave her an excellent view of the clock. Three fifty-eight. Three fifty-nine. Four o’clock…
In one hour she could go home and get ready to go to dinner at Garek’s.
And to make love.
The words had been unspoken, but she’d heard them loud and clear all the same.