Who's the Boss? - Erin McCarthy Page 0,33

really wasn’t a big deal, and not looking at me. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. The mattress was sinking slightly from our weight and I was very aware of how long it had been since I’d had a man in my apartment. Too long. Sean seemed to fill the space entirely, his arm brushing mine, his thigh pressed against the bare skin of my leg. I wasn’t wearing a bra and his proximity made my nipples tighten.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to pull away. “Thank you. I think you took the brunt of it.”

When Sean looked up and met my gaze, I knew I was fucked. Literally.

His pale green eyes were filled with desire.

I knew with certainty I should stand up and walk him to the door.

I also knew with certainty I wasn’t going to do any such thing.

Common sense was screaming at me to get the hell out of Isla’s apartment. To shove the damp towel at her, stand up, and go home and sit in the dark with a glass of bourbon.

I’d never been one to listen to common sense.

Isla was staring at me, her chest rising and falling with breathing that was elevated enough to show me she was as turned on as I was. We haven’t even touched each other yet and we were both aroused. It was because we’d been engaged in verbal foreplay all week. All those tight jeans and innuendoes. Her tongue sliding over fruit, her smile sly. It was the memory of that kiss.

She was sexy and explosive and intriguing. She fascinated and infuriated me.

“Tell me to go home,” I demanded. My voice was low and rough.

“Screw you,” she said, in the most predictable Isla fashion. “I’m not going to save you from your poor choices. That’s on you.”

She was right. It only made her even hotter. She held no punches. She told it like it was. Always.

“Are you going to save yourself?” I asked, tossing the towel in the direction of an end table.

Isla shook her head slowly back and forth, waves softly bouncing. “No. I forgot my life vest today.”

“And your pants.” She had amazing legs. Strong, firm. Pale, creamy thighs that made me want to bend over and drag my tongue across her flesh.

“And my pants.”

“This is a poor choice, isn’t it?” I asked, reaching out and running the pad of my thumb over her full bottom lip. “Because of work.” It was my final life raft, tossed out to her.

She nodded. “It’s a terrible choice. The worst. We shouldn’t do this.” She leaned in closer to me and put her hand on my chest. “But we are.”

“We definitely are.” I erased the inches between us and kissed her.

It was like the first time, in the hallway. Our lips were barely touching and yet the chemistry was explosive. I meant to take it slow, to have an easy exploration of her taste, her mouth. But once I made contact, and she gave a soft low moan, I wanted more. She wanted more. It was a hot frantic kiss of tangled tongues and questing hands.

Damn, Isla just did something to me. She smelled sweet, like body lotion. She tasted like toothpaste, minty and fresh. As I kissed her, I knew full well this was why I had stopped by with her phone. I’d been hoping for this. Wanting this. Fucking needing this.

She pressed her body against mine, the fullness of her tits brushing my chest as she gripped my biceps.

I kissed her, harder, hauling her even closer, up onto my lap. She spread her legs so that her knees were on either side of my thighs and she was sitting on my hard cock. I could feel the heat of her inner thighs through my jeans. Given how loose her shirt was, it was easy to slip a hand under it and grip her ass so I could grind her against me.

Isla had a narrow waist and an ass that was made for slapping. She was all curves and soft flesh and I needed to touch her everywhere. She’d been torturing me all week and now I was going to make her pay for it. I took the shirt she was wearing and pulled it over her head. I tossed it behind me and leaned back slightly to take in the sight of her.

“You’re a very gorgeous woman,” I told her, loving the way she gave me a confident smile as I swept my gaze over her body.