low-voiced words, so calm and remote and utterly unexpected, stopped her heart in her chest. She watched him trace the length of her spine to avoid looking at her. A drop of steam condensed into water and traveled down the mirror while she processed that detail. “Just me?”
He made a noncommittal noise, but hazel eyes darkened to green around the pupil as the seconds passed, and chemistry, coupled with the touch of his index finger along the edge of her hair where it swept across her nape and over her opposite shoulder, raised goose bumps and pebbled her nipples. He shook his head, and a delicate little quiver rippled low in her belly. To even the ground between them she turned around, dislodging his hands from her body.
Bad move, because he didn’t step back. Looking up into his eyes only reminded her how much taller he was. Broader, too. His shoulders took up most of her vision, and only the shirts clutched to her breasts gave her any modesty. “I don’t believe you.” He was hot as hell; a gorgeous, decorated, focused United States Marine. Getting a woman to sleep with him couldn’t be much harder than snapping his fingers.
Except he wouldn’t want the ones who spread their legs at the snap of his fingers.
“Believe it.”
Unshakable certainty, combined with what she now recognized as seething desire under iron control, convinced her. As a teenager Adam refused sex not just with her, but with any other girl who came his way. He’d slept with Delaney, been deployed in Afghanistan when he broke off their engagement. Stateside for less than a month, home for less than forty-eight hours.
So where did all that energy go? As a boy Adam channeled his sex drive into hell-raising and his motorcycle, and into going as far as they could without having sex. He’d been a virgin only as far as actual penetration. She hadn’t been one in any sense of the word.
She was half-naked and trapped between the pedestal sink and his body while they talked about sex, so saying anything other than
get the hell out
was a mistake, but he was looking at her. Her eyes, her mouth, her spine, reflected in the mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink. The tops of her breasts. “What do you want, Adam?”
“You know what I want, Ris.” The intensity in his eyes trapped the air in her throat. Then he bent his head and kissed her, his lips full and resilient against hers. A soft sound filtered into the warm, humid air. In response he slipped the tip of his tongue between her lips for a flickering caress. Heat shot through her, lighting signal fires in all the right places. Fire meant warmth, heat, light, but it also meant danger.
She was too experienced, too jaded to fall into bed with a man just because he announced
he wanted her
, even if he used that whiskey-rough voice, even if every nerve in her skin was alive to the heat and desire pouring off him, even if she’d dreamed about him since she was seventeen.
“So you came here to get me?”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Actually, I came here to ask a favor. This,” he said, and bent his head just enough for his lips, warm and full, to brush her ear. Once, twice, and all the hairs stood up as a chill tightened her skin. Then his teeth tightened on the fragile edge, holding the sensitive skin for the slick flick of his tongue, and her throat closed. “
This
came out of the blue.”
“A favor.” The shift in the conversation tilted the world under her feet.
“How well do you know Brookings?”
Totally caught off guard, she blinked. “Brookings? Pretty well. Why?”
“I need to find an apartment, sooner rather than later. Many more nights on the futon at my mom’s house and I’m going to need a chiropractor.”
She gaped at him. “You came here to ask me to help you find an apartment.”
“I planned to ask nicely and buy you supper afterwards, but yes.”
“Why not get Keith to help you?”
“He’s busy.” Inflectionless, no details. Keith was pretty low
He made a noncommittal noise, but hazel eyes darkened to green around the pupil as the seconds passed, and chemistry, coupled with the touch of his index finger along the edge of her hair where it swept across her nape and over her opposite shoulder, raised goose bumps and pebbled her nipples. He shook his head, and a delicate little quiver rippled low in her belly. To even the ground between them she turned around, dislodging his hands from her body.
Bad move, because he didn’t step back. Looking up into his eyes only reminded her how much taller he was. Broader, too. His shoulders took up most of her vision, and only the shirts clutched to her breasts gave her any modesty. “I don’t believe you.” He was hot as hell; a gorgeous, decorated, focused United States Marine. Getting a woman to sleep with him couldn’t be much harder than snapping his fingers.
Except he wouldn’t want the ones who spread their legs at the snap of his fingers.
“Believe it.”
Unshakable certainty, combined with what she now recognized as seething desire under iron control, convinced her. As a teenager Adam refused sex not just with her, but with any other girl who came his way. He’d slept with Delaney, been deployed in Afghanistan when he broke off their engagement. Stateside for less than a month, home for less than forty-eight hours.
So where did all that energy go? As a boy Adam channeled his sex drive into hell-raising and his motorcycle, and into going as far as they could without having sex. He’d been a virgin only as far as actual penetration. She hadn’t been one in any sense of the word.
She was half-naked and trapped between the pedestal sink and his body while they talked about sex, so saying anything other than
get the hell out
was a mistake, but he was looking at her. Her eyes, her mouth, her spine, reflected in the mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink. The tops of her breasts. “What do you want, Adam?”
“You know what I want, Ris.” The intensity in his eyes trapped the air in her throat. Then he bent his head and kissed her, his lips full and resilient against hers. A soft sound filtered into the warm, humid air. In response he slipped the tip of his tongue between her lips for a flickering caress. Heat shot through her, lighting signal fires in all the right places. Fire meant warmth, heat, light, but it also meant danger.
She was too experienced, too jaded to fall into bed with a man just because he announced
he wanted her
, even if he used that whiskey-rough voice, even if every nerve in her skin was alive to the heat and desire pouring off him, even if she’d dreamed about him since she was seventeen.
“So you came here to get me?”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Actually, I came here to ask a favor. This,” he said, and bent his head just enough for his lips, warm and full, to brush her ear. Once, twice, and all the hairs stood up as a chill tightened her skin. Then his teeth tightened on the fragile edge, holding the sensitive skin for the slick flick of his tongue, and her throat closed. “
This
came out of the blue.”
“A favor.” The shift in the conversation tilted the world under her feet.
“How well do you know Brookings?”
Totally caught off guard, she blinked. “Brookings? Pretty well. Why?”
“I need to find an apartment, sooner rather than later. Many more nights on the futon at my mom’s house and I’m going to need a chiropractor.”
She gaped at him. “You came here to ask me to help you find an apartment.”
“I planned to ask nicely and buy you supper afterwards, but yes.”
“Why not get Keith to help you?”
“He’s busy.” Inflectionless, no details. Keith was pretty low
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