| Cale circled the table and took
the silverware from Maggie, depositing it inside an empty glass.
The gentleness of his touch as he settled his big hands on her
shoulders and turned her to face him, warmed her from the inside
out. The man was simply too dangerous. Not only to her senses, but
to her newly discovered, or resurrected, determination to depend
on no one but herself.
One of those seductive little half smiles
tipped the corner of his mouth, weakening her resolve. "I
wouldn't worry too much about it." His hands slowly inched
toward her neck. "If they were in your shoes, I'd bet their
ability to hold back their frustration would be
non-existent."
From the way the tips of her breasts were
tingling in response to Cale's seductive little brush of his
thumbs against her throat, her first hand knowledge of frustration
stretched to astronomical proportions. The kind that'd take a cold
shower to ebb.
The base of his thumb pressed against her
rapidly beating pulse, revealing to him just how much he
physically affected her. His eyes darkened, desire simmering in
the depths, intoxicating her.
"Besides," he murmured, his voice
smooth and more enticing than a hot fudge sundae. "We've
already determined you couldn't possibly help yourself."
"I couldn't?"
His hand slid into her hair, lifting the
heavy weight from the back of her neck. "No," he said.
"Not with you being a redhead and all."
With every single ounce of willpower she
possessed, she stepped back, hoping to break the sensual spell
Cale so effortlessly wove around her. Her hands trembled when she
lifted the stack of plates from the table, the rattle sounding
louder than an explosion of dynamite.
Cale's all-too-knowing chuckle instantly
brought out the wickedness in her. Yes, he affected her. His
touch, his voice, the way the blue of his eyes darkened when he
looked at her in that certain way. All of it, all of him, left her
body humming with awareness and a deep, aching need. Didn't he
deserve to experience a small taste of the same blissful torture
himself?
She shoved the plates toward him, giving him
no choice but to take them from her or let them crash to the
floor. She spun on her heel and headed toward the kitchen,
stopping when she reached the arch separating the two rooms. With
a deliberate shake of her hair, she looked over her shoulder and
gave him what she hoped was a smoldering look filled with sin.
"Cale?" she called quietly to him, inflecting just
enough of a husky undertone to hopefully make him wary.
Her ploy worked.
Apprehension and wonderment crossed his
handsome face. "Yeah?" The sound was definitely
strained.
Enjoying the game, she deliberately moistened
her bottom lip with her tongue. "That's only the case if I'm
a true redhead."
Ceramic clattered and rattled as Cale
struggled to keep the plates from slipping out of his hands as her
meaning penetrated. He clutched the dishes to his chest, then
swore when the remnants of their breakfast smeared over his shirt.
"You don't play fair, sweetheart."
A definite warning filled with sensual intent lined his tone, and
ignited her imagination.
She laughed. "I don't intend to."
She knew without a doubt she was playing with fire, but the slow
burn of desire in the pit of her tummy was too intoxicating for
her to walk away now.
"You sure you want to play this
game?"
The wicked grin on his face should've scared
her off, but instead of high-tailing it to safety, she
deliberately crossed the kitchen toward him. "When I
play," she told him, "I play to win."
His laughter warmed her as he set the dishes
on the counter. He turned and slowly peeled the filthy t-shirt
over his head, revealing inch by delicious inch of his
well-tanned, muscular torso.
She itched to smooth her hands over the
texture of his skin, to press her lips to that glorious wall of
flesh. As she wrestled with the wisdom of her actions, he tossed
the shirt aside and reached for her. With his hands locked firmly
on the swell of her hips, he backed her up against the
refrigerator and pressed his body into hers.
"So do I," he whispered, his breath
hot against her ear. "And I won't lose."
The snappy comeback hovering on her lips
vanished the second his tongue traced the outline of her ear, and
she trembled. "Now who's not playing fair?" she managed,
her voice a strained whisper. "Oooh, I can't think when you
do that."
"I don't want you to think, Maggie. I
want you to feel."
His mouth caught hers, stealing her breath
and sending her hormones into a messy tangle. This was no soft,
brush of the lips, but totally consuming and filled with enough
heat to melt her on the spot.
His hands left her hips, wandering up her
sides where his thumbs settled below her breasts. Her nipples
beaded, anticipating his touch. The ache between her legs
increased, so pressed her thighs together to quiet the slow,
steady throb. Her tongue mated with his and she gave into the
desire to explore the landscape of his body with her good hand.
A whole lot sooner than she was ready for, he
ended the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, his uneven
breaths teasing her tingling lips.
What on earth was she thinking? Cale Perry
was definitely too hot for her to handle. But no way was she about
to let on how much he'd just rattled her.
Needing distance, she eased away from him.
"Are you any good at crossword puzzles?" she asked him,
determined to end this encounter in her favor. No matter how much
of a hero complex he might suffer from, or how chivalrous his
nature, she didn't doubt for a second that she would easily find
her heart charred beyond recognition if she wasn't careful.
With his hands braced against the fridge as
if he needed the support, he looked over his shoulder.
"Why?" he asked with a hefty dose of caution.
She summoned up a saucy smile in hopes of
convincing him of a confidence she was nowhere near feeling.
"What's a three letter word that starts with 'W' for
aroused?"
He hesitated a moment, then shook his head.
Deliberately, she slowly moistened her lips.
"Wet.". |
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