arms under his head, his gaze hot as he watched her through half-closed eyes.
She found herself smiling at him, feeling sexy. “You always looked at me like you knew what was under my clothes,” she said. Her voice came out breathless. She felt that way.
She found it strange that with others, when she needed it, she had all the confidence in the world. Sexual attraction hadn’t been real with the others, and she’d been totally in control. With him, it was all too real, and he had to be the one in control because for her, it had to be that way, or she didn’t want it. It wouldn’t be good for her. They would never be compatible. Still, that didn’t mean she could make herself trust him, but they were alone, out in the middle of nowhere. She was nervous, excited, thrilled, and she’d never felt more sensual than she did at that moment.
“I spent hours mapping out your body under those skirts and blouses. I thought of all kinds of ways I could take you on that desk of yours, but before I did, I wanted to take my time, spend those same hours exploring with my hands and mouth so I know every single inch of you.”
The way he said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if he meant every word, that it was his intention, sent flames licking over her skin and rushing through her veins. He didn’t change his tone from that low voice he used. He didn’t take his gaze from her.
“Eat your sandwich, baby. You’re going to need your strength.”
“I am?” She picked up the sandwich she’d abandoned when she’d stripped off her shirt.
“You are.” He said that very decisively.
SIX
Scarlet Foley truly had a beautiful body, even more so than he first had thought—and he’d been obsessing over her for nearly two months now. Night and day. Absinthe had had no idea her breasts were as full as they were, or as high or as round. Her nipples jutted out, perfect for play. Her rib cage was narrow and her waist even more so. She was fit. Really physically fit. He could see the play of muscles beneath her soft skin with every movement of her body. She might have more than generous breasts and hips, but she was totally fit. He could spend all day looking at her.
She wanted him. He was Torpedo Ink, a man trained from childhood to know all the signs, but he didn’t want to rush this. She was too important to him. He didn’t want to turn what they had growing between them into something solely sexual. She was caught between the desire to make their relationship that, hoping they’d burn out fast, or, like him, wanting it to be the real thing but not quite believing it could be.
He was still trying to figure her out. She definitely wanted him. All the signs were there. Long before they’d even touched in the library, he had known she returned his interest. Their chemistry had grown, and they’d only looked at each other. It kept growing until he swore it was becoming a wildfire burning out of control. He couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like when they actually fucked.
She was confident in herself as a rule, but her hands trembled, and sometimes her gaze shifted away from his, almost shyly, which didn’t make sense. He’d waited, hoping she would make the first move because he didn’t want to spook her. For all he knew, she might whip out the knife or gun he knew she was carrying in her boot and kill him, but she hadn’t made even a small move toward him, even when he knew she wanted to. He hadn’t asked her to remove her boots because he wanted her to continue to feel safe with him.
Absinthe had taken a chance, and because he was a man who took charge, he did so. She responded immediately, which not only surprised him, it shocked him. He had to think that over. He didn’t mind looking at her while he contemplated whether he was going to take any more chances with her. He didn’t want to blow the progress he’d made with her so far. The more time he spent with her, the more he was absolutely certain he was right that she was perfect for him. He had been careful not to use the advantage of his voice or his touch on her. He’d