Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,153

they’d gotten back from that dinner. When she’d been wearing that pretty green dress with all those tiny fabric-covered buttons, and he’d ridden up in the elevator with her and seen her breasts rising and falling with what he hoped was anticipation. Excitement. The subsonic rumble of that thunder coming closer, raising the hair at the back of your neck, leaving you holding your breath and waiting for that flash of lightning.

When they’d got to her door, he’d kissed her on the cheek, and when she’d sighed and put her hand on his shoulder—well, hell, of course he’d kissed her on the mouth. And then he’d kissed her some more. Right there in that hotel hallway, until she was up against the door and his tongue was in her mouth, and all he wanted was to unbutton those buttons, nice and slow. Preferably while she was on her back, though he’d take it standing up, too. Oh, yeah. He could do that. What was it about undressing Jennifer that was so incredibly hot? It let you slow things down, that was what, and appreciate what you were uncovering. And the way she’d hold her breath while you did it, the surprised little noise she’d make when her dress fell away …

Well, yeah. She made him want to take his time.

“He can do things with his tongue that you can only dream about,” she’d told the asshole. “He’s got positions.” What had he shown her so far? Not nearly enough. He had a list, and he wanted to get started on it. Right the hell now.

The ding of the elevator button penetrated, finally, and he stood back half a pace and fought to get himself back under control. He still had hold of her waist, though. She was pressed up against the door, one hand flung up by her head, her eyes half-closed and her hair all messed up, breathing hard. He said, wanting to laugh but also not wanting to laugh at all, “If you keep on looking like that, baby, they’re going to think you need help.”

“I … do need help,” she said. “Clearly.” She put her arm down, though. Straightened her dress. Tried for composure. “Right. Dating.” It was an attempt at brisk, and it absolutely failed. “So I’ll … just go in now. After our, uh, good-night kiss.”

It was so hard to stand back. “Yep. Want to have breakfast tomorrow?”

She smiled, then, getting that spark of sultry mischief back, that peek at the bad girl only he got to see. “Only if you buy me something really good.”

“I will buy you,” he promised, “anything you want.”

What she wanted, of course, turned out to be restrained. Nothing like strawberry crepes with mascarpone cheese, which had been on the menu, and which he could tell she wanted. Instead, she went for a veggie omelet. Her inner hedonist was taking its own sweet time to emerge, but then, it had been locked down for a long, long time.

He went with her afterwards to supervise the movers, and waited while she said goodbye to her grandfather, too, which was a predictably short visit.

“You’re not going to China,” he said. “I’m not going to die the minute you leave, either. Stop worrying about me and go.”

“I’m going to miss you, though,” she persisted. The tears were close to the surface, and she held her grandfather’s spotted, wrinkled hand like she wanted to memorize it. “I’ve spent my whole life with you. What am I going to do when I need somebody to yell at me?”

He barked out a laugh. “Call me up, of course. Or make this guy send you up to visit me on that jet he’s always flying around on.”

“I’ll do that,” Harlan said. “Say the word, Jennifer.”

That earned him some beetling-browed stare. “Don’t think you get to yell at her. Or that just because I’m old, I can’t kick your ass.”

Jennifer said, “Grandpa. You can’t kick his ass.”

“Sure he can,” Harlan said. “And I know it. Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take care of her.”

“Make sure you do,” he answered. “Because I know where you live. Now go on and go. Make sure you take those vitamins, though, Jennifer, and don’t be driving after dark in that city traffic. It takes longer to brake in the rain, remember.”

She gave him one last hug, and Harlan let her look away on the drive to the airport, because he’d seen her throat moving, had known she wanted to cry. Finally, though, when