Bedroom Diplomacy(19)

Well, shoot.

“Not a good idea,” he said, wrapping his hand around hers and holding it.

“What if I think it is?”

“I’m exercising a tremendous amount of self-control. You ought not to tempt me.”

The look in his eyes said he wasn’t exaggerating. She just assumed that like her, he was content with kissing, but clearly he wanted more. Which made her even hotter for him.

If he wasn’t going to play fair, then neither was she.

With her eyes locked on his, using her free hand, she slid her index finger down the center of his chest, over his rock hard abs, all the way to the waist of his pants. She started back up, but barely made it halfway before he pulled a ninja move on her again. One second she was in his lap, then next she was flat on her back on the sofa cushions, Colin grinning down at her.

“I warned you.”

She slid her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him. He settled on top of her and slightly to the left, and—well, hello there. There was definitely no denying that he wanted her, too.

She forgot how much she loved this, the steady pressure of a man’s weight pressing her into the mattress—or in this case, the sofa. It was one of a thousand little things about sex that she loved, but had completely forgotten.

“Can I take off your shirt?” she said.

He grinned down at her. “I don’t know, can you?”

She grabbed the bottom edge and pulled it up, and Colin helped her pull it over his head.

“I love looking at you,” she said, flattening her palms against his chest. “And touching you.” She pulled his head back down. “And kissing you.”

Her cell phone started to ring and she ignored it.

“Should you answer that?” Colin asked.

Hell no. She was fooling around for the first time in more than three years. Nothing was going to interrupt them. “They can leave a message. Kiss me.”

With a grin he kissed her, and eventually the ringing stopped. Then started right back up again. Seriously? It had to be right now? They couldn’t call her back later?

“Maybe you should get that,” Colin said. “It could be important.”

The only thing worth stopping for would be Dylan, and he was asleep, safe and sound in his crib. “They can call back later.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, pulling him back down. “Just keep kissing me.”

She tuned out the ringing, blocked out everything but Colin. The feel of his mouth…on her lips and her neck. The taste of his skin and mingling scents of soap and sweat.

When her damned phone started to ring again, Colin stopped kissing her and said, “I really think you should answer that.”

She mumbled a curse and dug her phone out of her back pocket. It was Tricia. “Somebody had better be dead.”

“I’m sorry to bother you. I just thought you might like to know that the senator is coming to see you.”

“What? Why?”

“He came down here to talk to you and one of the girls told him what happened to Dylan. He’s on his way up to see if he’s okay.”

Damn, damn, damn. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“So,” Tricia said, in a tone dripping with innuendo. “How’s it going?”

The fact that Rowena hadn’t answered her phone should have been a clue. “I’ll call you later.”

Muttering a word that was very unladylike, she hung up and tossed her phone on the coffee table. Pushing on Colin’s chest, she said, “Up, up, up. Time to get up.”

He pushed himself off her. “What’s wrong?”

She bolted up from the sofa. “My father heard what happened and is on his way up to check on Dylan.”

“Are you serious?”

She grabbed his shirt off the floor and tossed it to him. “I’m assuming you probably don’t want to be here when he shows up.”

He pulled it on. “Preferably not.”

She wondered how long they had before he got there. Her answer came about ten seconds later when he knocked.

“Okay, now what?” Colin said.

“My bedroom,” she said, pushing him in that direction. “I’ll call you when the coast is clear.”

Her father knocked again. The second Colin closed the bedroom door, she opened the suite door, pretending to be surprised to see him. “Hello, Father.”

He muscled his way inside and demanded, “Where’s Dylan?”

Deep breaths, in and out. “He’s napping.”

“Why didn’t you call me and tell me what happened?”

“Dylan falling, you mean?” She shrugged. “He’s fine.”

“They told me he was bleeding,” he said, looking around suspiciously, obviously not for his grandson, since she had just told him Dylan was in bed.