I grin at him. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”
“Then I clearly haven’t been speaking my mind. You’re gorgeous, determined, talented, crazy…” He smacks his forehead. “What am I doing? Why am I talking myself into this?”
“Well, someone has to. Jeez.” I wind my arms around his neck. “You’re obsessing so much about what you think you could give me. Why don’t you ask me what I’d want from you?”
“What would you want?” He runs his finger along my cheek, and I bite back a moan. “A man who checks off all the boxes on your bookmark list?”
I snort. “You’re such an ass sometimes. Yes, I want those things, and I also want a man who makes time for me, a man who makes me feel magical and special.” You make me feel magical and special, Blake. “And you’ve been completely honest about the fact that you don’t have that kind of time, and I appreciate that. But tonight…tonight has felt like a wonderful fairytale, and I don’t think either one of us is ready for it to be over.”
I take a deep breath. “You’re right, though. I wouldn’t accept being with a man who can’t make time for me, and I understand why you can’t. So what I’d want from you is one night of amazingly hot sex, and equally important, I want your promise that you’d leave first thing in the morning and we’d pretend this never happened. We’d screw each other out of our systems and go back to normal. Which is you being a smug, unbearable jerk and me doing my job.”
“Badly,” he says fiercely, moving me up against the wall, and kisses my neck.
Chapter Twenty
Winona
The touch of his lips on my skin strikes a bolt of desire right through my body, and I moan as he pushes his hips hard against me, letting me feel the effect of my words on him. Showing me how badly he needs to screw me out of his system. He’s exploring my body with his hands, and his mouth returns to mine in a greedy, searing kiss. I run my hands over his broad, muscled chest – we’re both gasping with excitement and need – and push his suit jacket off his shoulders and down his arms.
He pulls away, laughing, and I realize I’ve got him restrained in some kind of improvised Armani straitjacket. But the laughter can’t overshadow the hunger and impatience in his eyes, and we’re kissing again as I help him wrestle out of his jacket. He discards it on the floor and hauls me into his arms.
He’s clumsy, pushing open the door with his shoulder as he carries me through to the bedroom, but that’s because I’m nibbling his ear and working open the buttons on his shirt, and he groans a curse as I slide my hand under the bajillion-thread-count cotton of his shirt to the passion-hot skin underneath.
My bedroom seems small again, but this time it’s not because I’m worried he’ll think my place is tiny and cheap, it’s just him – his poise, his scent, his strength. He’d fill any space he was in with his presence. I can’t keep my eyes off him, or my hands. I’m not sure anything else even exists anymore.
He throws me onto the bed, stripping off his tie with practiced movements and pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. A button pings off the floor, but the tiny sound hardly registers as I drink in the sight of his smooth, slightly tawny flesh, muscles moving under his skin with every motion of his body.
My body buzzes with anticipation. My heart skips in my chest, my panties soaked as I
squeeze my thighs together and whimper, trying to gather some scrap of control over the urgent,
pulsing need I feel to have him inside me. Right now.
He must see the need in me, because the light in his eyes turns intense, hungry, and he stifles a growl as he kicks off his shoes, peels off his pants and rolls on top of me, gloriously naked and…
I can’t help it, I moan, and I arch my hips up against him. There’s nothing between us but my drenched panties and the gossamer-fine silk of my dress. His skin is feverish with desire, and I can feel the needy pulsing of his erection against my most intimate flesh. So hard. So hot. So big. I don’t even have time