flat plane of his stomach and stroked up to his powerful shoulders. Then she slid them down to rest against the waistband of his lounge pants. His stomach quivered beneath her touch, but his face remained impassive. “I was on my way to get some coffee from Starbucks, handsome. Wanna come?”
Humor lit his gray eyes and a smile softened his cut lip. Sleep-rumpled hair added to his sexy, disheveled appearance. “Sweetheart, I always want to come,” he said with a slight Southern drawl.
She hadn’t noticed that last night. But she did now and it did crazy things to her insides. Mark Cutter was one wickedly hot man.
Lorelei felt a smile tug her lips when she suddenly realized the double meaning. He’d set them up for this. “I’m so glad you like . . . coffee . . . as much as I do. It can get kind of lonely for a lady enjoying coffee all by herself. It’s nice having a strong, sexy man along once in a while.” Her fingers slipped just inside the elastic waistband of his flannels and rubbed softly back and forth. Her pulse leaped at his answering intake of breath and quick jerk.
Big, warm hands smoothed over her hips and squeezed her butt gently. Mark’s voice dropped to a husky whisper, “Are you often left to drink your coffee alone, Lorelei?”
If he only knew. It’d been quite a while since she’d shared coffee with a man. More than two years in fact. Since before her niece Michelle had been born and her sister-in-law had died, actually.
But Mark didn’t need to know that.
Lorelei mentally chided herself. All he needed to know was that she was interested in an intense game of tonsil hockey. Her family needed her to get back home. And that meant she had to stick out her boobs and rattle his cage. Make him forget about her sneaking out.
And if he didn’t forget? What good would she be to Logan and Michelle if she was rotting in prison?
That simply couldn’t be an option.
Fighting off the frown she felt forming between her brows, Lorelei tried for a seductive smile and purred, “Honey, it’s been far too long since I’ve had the pleasure of a man over for coffee. Especially one as enthusiastic about it as you.”
She watched his gaze drop to her mouth and his nostrils flare. Felt the hot, velvet tip of his erection brush against her fingertips. And it felt nice. Very, very nice.
“That’s too bad. Coffee’s such an enjoyable pastime. Maybe you oughta forget about sneaking out and running away, and think about grinding beans with me instead,” he said, and rotated his hips in circular motion to emphasize his meaning.
Lorelei snorted and then laughed out loud. Who’d have thought Mark had a sense of humor?
He arched a brow, whirled her around until her back was to a wall. “Oh, you think that’s funny, do you? Didn’t think I was smart enough to get what you were really doing? I see. I’m just a dumb jock who only thinks about his cock, aren’t I?”
Still laughing, she sputtered, “You said it. Not me. But that’s just pure talent, rhyming like that.”
Lorelei looked up to see him smiling, those sexy dimples on display. She noticed when the smile reached his eyes little specks of silver glittered among the pale gray. Sleep-tousled waves of deep blond hair fell across his forehead.
He was simply gorgeous.
“You wanna see talent, Lorelei?” His voice had taken on a rough, raw edge. Without a doubt he had the sexiest voice she’d ever heard. It made her want to call him on the phone just to hear it isolated like that. So male and sexual—it alone got her blood boiling.
Her pulse scattered when the warm hands on her butt streaked up under her top and around her rib cage until they came to rest flat against the undersides of her bare breasts. There they teased, barely cupping, lightly testing the weight.
Lorelei swallowed a gasp. “I don’t doubt your talent for a minute. But I don’t trust it, or you.”
He lowered his head until his mouth stopped a fraction above hers. His breath slid hot and promising over her lips. “You don’t trust me, sweetheart?” he asked just above a whisper. Then his tongue slipped past his lips to tease the corner of her mouth with slow, erotic strokes.
The hard calluses on Mark’s palm gently abused the tender skin of her breasts as he caressed them, sending rivers of need flowing