“Don’t you have anything to say about New York?” I asked. “About them headhunting me less than a day after I was fired?”
He took another sip of his drink as his gaze lingered on my mouth. “What’s there to say? I’m not surprised. Your reputation is well earned.”
Nice words, but they seemed so flat and left me feeling the same way. “You don’t seem happy for me.”
He paused, looking at his glass, seeming to choose his words even more carefully than normal. “I’m happy that someone appreciates you.”
Had I missed something important while I’d been going on about New York? The attraction that had flared last night, the spike of desire when he’d leaned close, crowding me in between the car and his body—all of that was still between us, but tightly leashed.
“Yes, I like being appreciated,” I said, still trying to gauge his reaction.
He raised his brows, slid his glass across the table, then swung around from his side to slide into the booth right next to me.
He’d picked up the gauntlet.
And I liked it.
“What are you doing over here?” My voice was breathy because I knew exactly what he was doing.
“Appreciating you,” he said, skating his hand along the back of the booth until his arm wrapped around my shoulders.
And, oh my. One simple touch. His arm. My shoulder. That was all, and he’d sent my temperature soaring.
My face was hot, and I knew I was flushed as I turned to face him, challenging him on purpose now. “Is that so?”
“Yes. But if you have doubts, let me make it incredibly, abundantly clear.”
Anticipation wove through me as I waited for the thing I’d desired most from him.
I adored his friendship.
I cherished his camaraderie.
But I craved his touch.
So much that I was wound tight, tense and coiled.
So much that he filled my awareness, leaving no room for anything else. Inches away, his body blocked us from the view of most of the bar, but we could have stood in a spotlight and I wouldn’t have attention left for anyone but him.
“How clear?” I asked, licking my lips.
He threaded his fingers through my hair, and I melted into him. At last, the man I wanted was touching me, and my body hummed everywhere.
“Perfectly clear,” he rumbled, his voice as deep as the want in his eyes. “I’m going to do the thing I’ve wanted to do for the last year. So if you don’t want me to kiss you, stop me now.”
My breath caught, held, and came out in a soft, pleading command. “Kiss me now and don’t stop.”
My eyes floated closed, and his lips brushed mine, and the last year of longing faded away in the press of his mouth, in the taste of his lips.
In the tender but possessive way he kissed me.
His strong fingers curled around my head.
He took his time, exploring my lips, traveling across them, nipping and tasting.
And with each second that ticked by, I became more keenly aware of one thing—I wanted John more than I wanted New York.
Even if it wasn’t going to last.
Even if he didn’t feel the same wild beating in his heart that I did.
Because this kiss had been a year in the making.
This kiss felt like he wanted to memorize every detail of my lips, my skin, my taste. And I wanted that too.
Wanted him to know me in that way.
Because when John Winston showed how he appreciated me, oh hell, did he ever show me.
I—we—needed to get out of there soon.
Like, right now.
Because I was turned on beyond all reason, beyond any stopping it.
I broke the kiss, pressing my hands to his chest, thrilled that I could touch him this way at last. His chest was strong and firm under my touch.
And I needed to know how he felt wearing nothing.
“You know what I’d appreciate?” I asked, feeling bold. Feeling like no matter how uncertain my future was, my present was in sharp focus.
His lips curved in a grin. “I’m dying to know.”
Curling a hand over his shoulder, I whispered, “Getting out of here. Right now.”
9
Mindy
His place was closer.
In the elevator up to his condo, he roped an arm around my waist and yanked me close. “Do you have any idea how tempted I was to speed?”
“I bet it was tough,” I said. “But you played the good cop.”
His eyes shone with dirty deeds. “I did, but say the word, and I can play bad cop with you.”
I liked that idea more than I’d expected to. “Are you saying you’re going to cuff me?”
His hand cupped my ass, and he brought me flush against him. “I would very much like to.” He dipped his head to my neck, licking a path along my skin that made me tremble. “But first, I’m happy to spread you out on my bed, strip you naked, and show you how much I appreciate every inch of you.”
I moaned like a woman driven mad by desire.
I wanted it all with him. I wanted everything. Right then, though, I’d settle for John between my legs, fucking me hard.
The prospect of this calm, measured, in-charge man losing control was intoxicating.
When the elevator dinged, he untangled from me, and we stepped off, disheveled, hot, bothered, and eager as hell.
At his door, he grabbed his key but missed the lock.
“Locks are vexing,” I teased, feeling sassy and powerful. Feeling like a woman about to get what she wanted.
He met my gaze. “Vexing is the deadbolt that’s the last thing stopping you from getting the woman you’re dying for under you and calling out your name.”
A flash of heat flooded my body.
The key turned in the lock, and my pulse spiked. So did my ache for him as he pulled me inside, dropped his keys on the entryway table, and kicked the door shut.
Then he lifted me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and carried me to his bedroom.
John was just full of surprises.
But none of them were unwelcome.
He lowered me to the bed, tugged at the hem of my shirt, and pulled it over my head, groaning at the sight of my lingerie—a simple black lace bra. Then he lowered himself to me. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” His voice turned rough and gravelly, and he was like a man unleashed.
The things he said.
The hunger in his eyes.
This was John unlocked, all heat and desire.
I laced my hands through his hair, so glad I finally could. “I bet it’s as much as I want you,” I whispered.
He crushed his lips to mine, kissing me in a whole new way, fevered, passionate.
And like he didn’t want to stop.
Pulling back, I kicked off my shoes and scooted up on the bed.
He toed off his own and followed me, crawling over me, reaching for my wrists and pinning them over my head.
“I think you do want to play bad cop,” I said.
“What I want is to have my way with you,” he said.
My heart hammered with wanting, and desire coiled inside me, growing tighter, more intense. “Then have me,” I said. “Any way you want.”
He reached for my jeans, and soon we were unzipping, unbuttoning, tugging, and just tossing.
Pitching clothes onto the floor with abandon. Careless with need.