hell with it. Let’s find out.”
He let the bottle drop, and the water that remained in it spilled unnoticed on the bedroom rug. He wanted his hands on her, both his hands, and used them to hold her arms over her head as his mouth came down on hers.
He felt her body jerk against his. Protest or invitation, he didn’t care. One way or the other, he was bound to be damned for this single outrageous act. So he might as well make the most of it.
He used his teeth on her, the way he’d already imagined, scraping them along the long line of her lower lip. Freeing the warmth, the softness of it, to him, then absorbing it. She made some sound, something that seemed to claw up from her throat and was every bit as primitive as the need that raged through him.
The scent of her—cool soap and skin—the flavor of her, such a contrast of ripeness and heat, overwhelmed him, stirred every hunger he’d ever known.
When his hands took her, fingers sliding down, gripping her hips, he was ready to feed those hungers, to take what he craved without a second thought.
Then his hand bumped over her weapon.
He jerked back as if she’d drawn it and shot him.
What was he doing? What in God’s name was he doing?
She said nothing, only stared at him with eyes that had gone blurry at the edges. Her arms remained over her head, as if his hands still pinned them there.
Her body quaked.
“That was a mistake,” she managed to say.
“I know it.”
“A really serious mistake.”
With her eyes open, she fisted her hands in his hair and dragged his mouth back to hers.
This time it was his body that jerked, and the shock of it vibrated through her, down to the bone. He’d savaged her mouth with that first mad kiss, and she wanted him to do it again. He would damn well do it again until her system stopped screaming.
She couldn’t breathe without breathing him, and every desperate gulp of air was like the pump of a drug. The power of it charged through her while their lips and tongues warred.
With one violent move, he yanked her shirt out of the waistband of her slacks, then snaked his hand beneath until it closed over her breast.
The groan came from both of them.
“The minute I saw you.” He tore his mouth from hers to feast on her throat. “The first minute I saw you.”
“I know.” She wanted his mouth again, had to have it. “I know.”
He started to drag her jacket off, had it halfway down her arms when sanity began to pound against madness. The madness urged him to take her—why shouldn’t he?—fast and hard. To take what he needed, the way he needed it, and please himself.
“Ally.” He said her name, and the old-fashioned sweetness of it clicked reality back into place.
She saw him step back—though he didn’t move, she saw the deliberate distance he built between them by the change in his eyes. Those fascinating and clear green eyes.
“Okay.” She sucked in a breath. “Okay, okay.” In an almost absent move she patted his shoulder until he did indeed step back. “That was … whoa.” She sidestepped, paced away into his office. “Okay, that was … something.”
“Something or other.”
“I need a minute for my mind to clear.” She’d never had passion slam into her with a force that blanked the mind. But she’d have to worry about that, deal with that, later. Right now it was essential she find her balance.
“We probably both knew that was in there. And it’s probably best we got it out,” she said.
To give himself a moment he bent down, picked up the empty water bottle, set it aside. Then he dipped his hands into his pockets because they weren’t altogether steady, and followed her into the office.
“I’ll agree with the first part and reserve judgment on the second. What do we do now?”
“Now we … get over it.”
Just like that? he thought. She’d cut him off at the knees, and now he was supposed to just hobbleaway and get over it?
“Fine.” Pride iced his voice. He walked
He let the bottle drop, and the water that remained in it spilled unnoticed on the bedroom rug. He wanted his hands on her, both his hands, and used them to hold her arms over her head as his mouth came down on hers.
He felt her body jerk against his. Protest or invitation, he didn’t care. One way or the other, he was bound to be damned for this single outrageous act. So he might as well make the most of it.
He used his teeth on her, the way he’d already imagined, scraping them along the long line of her lower lip. Freeing the warmth, the softness of it, to him, then absorbing it. She made some sound, something that seemed to claw up from her throat and was every bit as primitive as the need that raged through him.
The scent of her—cool soap and skin—the flavor of her, such a contrast of ripeness and heat, overwhelmed him, stirred every hunger he’d ever known.
When his hands took her, fingers sliding down, gripping her hips, he was ready to feed those hungers, to take what he craved without a second thought.
Then his hand bumped over her weapon.
He jerked back as if she’d drawn it and shot him.
What was he doing? What in God’s name was he doing?
She said nothing, only stared at him with eyes that had gone blurry at the edges. Her arms remained over her head, as if his hands still pinned them there.
Her body quaked.
“That was a mistake,” she managed to say.
“I know it.”
“A really serious mistake.”
With her eyes open, she fisted her hands in his hair and dragged his mouth back to hers.
This time it was his body that jerked, and the shock of it vibrated through her, down to the bone. He’d savaged her mouth with that first mad kiss, and she wanted him to do it again. He would damn well do it again until her system stopped screaming.
She couldn’t breathe without breathing him, and every desperate gulp of air was like the pump of a drug. The power of it charged through her while their lips and tongues warred.
With one violent move, he yanked her shirt out of the waistband of her slacks, then snaked his hand beneath until it closed over her breast.
The groan came from both of them.
“The minute I saw you.” He tore his mouth from hers to feast on her throat. “The first minute I saw you.”
“I know.” She wanted his mouth again, had to have it. “I know.”
He started to drag her jacket off, had it halfway down her arms when sanity began to pound against madness. The madness urged him to take her—why shouldn’t he?—fast and hard. To take what he needed, the way he needed it, and please himself.
“Ally.” He said her name, and the old-fashioned sweetness of it clicked reality back into place.
She saw him step back—though he didn’t move, she saw the deliberate distance he built between them by the change in his eyes. Those fascinating and clear green eyes.
“Okay.” She sucked in a breath. “Okay, okay.” In an almost absent move she patted his shoulder until he did indeed step back. “That was … whoa.” She sidestepped, paced away into his office. “Okay, that was … something.”
“Something or other.”
“I need a minute for my mind to clear.” She’d never had passion slam into her with a force that blanked the mind. But she’d have to worry about that, deal with that, later. Right now it was essential she find her balance.
“We probably both knew that was in there. And it’s probably best we got it out,” she said.
To give himself a moment he bent down, picked up the empty water bottle, set it aside. Then he dipped his hands into his pockets because they weren’t altogether steady, and followed her into the office.
“I’ll agree with the first part and reserve judgment on the second. What do we do now?”
“Now we … get over it.”
Just like that? he thought. She’d cut him off at the knees, and now he was supposed to just hobbleaway and get over it?
“Fine.” Pride iced his voice. He walked
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