Lorin shrugged hers off with a lithe movement that would be engraved on his retinas for a long time to come.
She closed her eyes momentarily, shivering with obvious pleasure. “Doesn’t that heat feel fabulous already?” She folded the jacket and reached past him to place it in a cubby.
When their bodies touched, she jerked back like she’d touched a live wire. With her jacket off, clad only in a duo of tank tops, her nipples pebbled under his gaze. Snatching her swimsuit from the cubby, she released the curtain from its ancient moorings, drawing it across the changing area with a puff of dust and a screech of rusty metal hoops. “Hurry up, I’m freezing.”
Gabe hurriedly undressed. Hearing her do the same without being able to see her was almost worse, because his imagination was aflame. While Lorin chattered about the summer crew’s qualifications, he stared at the long, narrow bones of her feet, the high arches, the toes tipped with pansy-purple polish.
Not at all what he expected from Lorin Schlessinger.
“Do you need some help over there? Hurry up.”
He glared at his unruly cock, currently standing at attention. Damn her for lobbing such an incendiary comment over this flimsy, ineffectual wall. She had to know where his testosterone-poisoned brain would go. Did she think him so neutered that he wouldn’t take her up on it? His cheekbones throbbed as he let the silence lengthen.
You can’t take her up on it, asshole. She reports to you—and she’s the Valkyrie Second. He might temporarily outrank her at work, but in every other way that counted, she was fathoms out of his league.
“Coming,” he said through the gravel in his throat. Let her make of his comment what she would. He quickly stripped off his clothes, folded them, and stepped into his swim trunks. He took a deep, cleansing breath and looked down at his groin. At least the baggy surf shorts provided some coverage.
He swished back the curtain and choked back a groan. Lorin was bent over in the bathing area, pouring warm water over her hair, her sighs of pleasure audible over the splat of falling water hitting the concrete floor. His eyes zoomed in, fetish-close, on her ass, on the skimpy red bikini bottom that revealed as much as they concealed.
Gabe closed his eyes. He was a dead man.
Chapter 5
“Lorin, we can’t see you. Could you move closer to Gabe?”
I’m practically in his lap already. “Sure,” she replied to Willem Lund, who was helming the hastily called meeting from the Sebastiani Labs boardroom. When she’d suggested to Gabe that they dial in to the meeting from the workroom, her only thought had been keeping Gabe out of her cabin, its floor space dominated by the sturdy double bed. Gabe’s laptop had an integrated camera—ideal for the conferencing needs of the person at the keys—but for two people? Completely inadequate. “Should have brought my own,” she muttered, shifting the chair closer to Gabe.
“Why didn’t you?” Gabe took a big slug off his— her —thermal coffee mug.
He’d missed a patch when he shaved that morning. Five black bristly hairs stood at the side of his Adam’s apple.
“Lorin, we still can’t see you,” Elliott called.
She tore her gaze from Gabe’s moving throat.
Shit. Someone needed to commit her to the nearest psychiatric facility. Her idea to take a nice, friendly sauna with Gabe last night had been utter freaking lunacy. Who could have predicted that Gabe Lupinsky would look so great nearly naked? For all the excess yardage in those unexpectedly exuberant surf shorts he’d worn, the thin fabric clung quite faithfully to his dimensions. She’d wanted to take him in her hands. She wanted to see him, taste him.
Take him.
“Sitting side by side won’t work,” Gabe said. “Your shoulders are almost as wide as mine are.” He pushed her chair, with her in it, forward a few inches. “There. Now lean in.”
His damp, warm breath drifted across her neck. The
She closed her eyes momentarily, shivering with obvious pleasure. “Doesn’t that heat feel fabulous already?” She folded the jacket and reached past him to place it in a cubby.
When their bodies touched, she jerked back like she’d touched a live wire. With her jacket off, clad only in a duo of tank tops, her nipples pebbled under his gaze. Snatching her swimsuit from the cubby, she released the curtain from its ancient moorings, drawing it across the changing area with a puff of dust and a screech of rusty metal hoops. “Hurry up, I’m freezing.”
Gabe hurriedly undressed. Hearing her do the same without being able to see her was almost worse, because his imagination was aflame. While Lorin chattered about the summer crew’s qualifications, he stared at the long, narrow bones of her feet, the high arches, the toes tipped with pansy-purple polish.
Not at all what he expected from Lorin Schlessinger.
“Do you need some help over there? Hurry up.”
He glared at his unruly cock, currently standing at attention. Damn her for lobbing such an incendiary comment over this flimsy, ineffectual wall. She had to know where his testosterone-poisoned brain would go. Did she think him so neutered that he wouldn’t take her up on it? His cheekbones throbbed as he let the silence lengthen.
You can’t take her up on it, asshole. She reports to you—and she’s the Valkyrie Second. He might temporarily outrank her at work, but in every other way that counted, she was fathoms out of his league.
“Coming,” he said through the gravel in his throat. Let her make of his comment what she would. He quickly stripped off his clothes, folded them, and stepped into his swim trunks. He took a deep, cleansing breath and looked down at his groin. At least the baggy surf shorts provided some coverage.
He swished back the curtain and choked back a groan. Lorin was bent over in the bathing area, pouring warm water over her hair, her sighs of pleasure audible over the splat of falling water hitting the concrete floor. His eyes zoomed in, fetish-close, on her ass, on the skimpy red bikini bottom that revealed as much as they concealed.
Gabe closed his eyes. He was a dead man.
Chapter 5
“Lorin, we can’t see you. Could you move closer to Gabe?”
I’m practically in his lap already. “Sure,” she replied to Willem Lund, who was helming the hastily called meeting from the Sebastiani Labs boardroom. When she’d suggested to Gabe that they dial in to the meeting from the workroom, her only thought had been keeping Gabe out of her cabin, its floor space dominated by the sturdy double bed. Gabe’s laptop had an integrated camera—ideal for the conferencing needs of the person at the keys—but for two people? Completely inadequate. “Should have brought my own,” she muttered, shifting the chair closer to Gabe.
“Why didn’t you?” Gabe took a big slug off his— her —thermal coffee mug.
He’d missed a patch when he shaved that morning. Five black bristly hairs stood at the side of his Adam’s apple.
“Lorin, we still can’t see you,” Elliott called.
She tore her gaze from Gabe’s moving throat.
Shit. Someone needed to commit her to the nearest psychiatric facility. Her idea to take a nice, friendly sauna with Gabe last night had been utter freaking lunacy. Who could have predicted that Gabe Lupinsky would look so great nearly naked? For all the excess yardage in those unexpectedly exuberant surf shorts he’d worn, the thin fabric clung quite faithfully to his dimensions. She’d wanted to take him in her hands. She wanted to see him, taste him.
Take him.
“Sitting side by side won’t work,” Gabe said. “Your shoulders are almost as wide as mine are.” He pushed her chair, with her in it, forward a few inches. “There. Now lean in.”
His damp, warm breath drifted across her neck. The
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