B-boys, Pol. And being bad was what saved him. When I thought of that...”
“When you thought of that...?” she prompted, whispering.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just had to come to you.”
A hot sting of tears burned her eyes. To hide them, she let her lids close, and so she didn’t see Teague’s lips coming nearer; she only felt them brush her lashes, trace down her cheek.
It was a gentle, comforting caress. As platonic as every other they’d shared. Then his lips found hers, and she tasted the salt of her tears on their smooth, warm surface. Without thought, she opened her mouth to taste them with her tongue.
She heard and felt Teague’s sharp, indrawn breath. Heated embarrassment flushed through her, and she attempted retreat. But his hands tightened on her.
His lips pressed harder. It became a real kiss.
Polly’s head spun. It was what she’d always wanted, a dream she’d stopped waiting for. Their tongues touched, tangled, and she felt need flush over her from head to toe. Between her thighs, she went wet.
One of his hands speared the hair at the back of her head. His touch was masculine, masterful, keeping her in place so that he could take control of her mouth. She shivered in hot delight, thrilled by his hard hold.
His palm covered her shoulder, following the slope of it atop the flannel until his thumb brushed the outside of her breast. He stilled for a moment, and then his hand slowly moved to cup her, his palm seeming to test the slight weight. Polly’s nipple tightened to a painful bead and she clutched at Teague’s shoulders to keep upright.
He broke the kiss and she saw that his color was up, a flush across his cheekbones. His hands went to the buttons of her boxy top, and she couldn’t breathe as he unfastened them with skillful fingers.
A good man to have in an emergency, she thought, her head muzzy from lack of oxygen. But then he brushed the flannel sides away from her naked chest, and air refilled her lungs on a gasp. Teague just looked at her, his gaze avid, his own breath harsh as he stared.
She shivered, and he covered both breasts with his hot palms. Polly moaned as her nipples poked his flesh. Still staring, as if he was fascinated by the look of his big hands on her naked torso, he leaned toward her, licking at the hollow of her throat.
Polly jerked into the wet contact, and he made a soothing noise as he drew his mouth lower, moving one hand around her ribs and to her back. He pressed there, urging her inches closer, and then his mouth was on her breast.
She gasped again, closing her eyes as he sucked on the nipple, light but insistent. Her thighs clenched, and she felt another rush of wetness.
Her hands plunged into his hair. It had never been like this for her before. She felt hot all over, slippery inside, yearning everywhere from the roots of her hair to the tender skin between her toes. Every part of her wanted contact with him, but she was afraid to speak that aloud in case he woke to the fact that he was in the throes of passion with his platonic friend.
Teague released her flesh and looked up. “Polly,” he murmured. “Polly—”
She muffled him with her own kiss, desperate, and desperately worried that if he said her name one more time he’d realize that yes, it was Polly, Polly Pal who was in his arms. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and his hands clamped on her hips, then slipped beneath the waistband of her flannel pants to cup her bottom.
He groaned, the sound a sweet buzz of desire against her tongue. His fingers kneaded the soft flesh that he held and she felt another dizzying rush of heat engulf her. She’d wanted him before; his smiles, his charm, his male competence had called to her from the very beginning—not every man could make expert omelets!—but this was something else altogether. There was no way she’d anticipated the effect of his hands on her in sexual urgency.
And there was no sense in trying to apply the brakes now.
After all, she doubted she could ever go back to being his friend, she thought, so she might as well give it all as his lover. Shrugging, she allowed the flannel top to drop. Then, still kissing him, she shoved her thumbs into the elastic waistband of her pants and