ZOË DIDN’T THINK she could have wanted him any more, but his words and even more, the look in his eyes, turned the desire she’d been feeling into a burning ache. Hadn’t she wanted him to say those words, willed him to say them, since they’d first kissed?
“There’s one thing you should understand. After tonight, we’ll never see each other again,” he said. “I’m almost certain that those men were after you because of me. In order to keep you safe, I won’t be able to have any further contact with you. Knowing that, will you make love with me just this once?”
Just this once. The words played themselves over in her mind. It had only been once with Jed Calhoun. It would only be once with Ethan Blair. But she wasn’t going to say no. Tomorrow there’d be time enough to analyze why she might be attracting men who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stick around. She’d leave that for the psychologist in her. Tonight she was just going to indulge in her wild side again.
She smiled at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
JED TOOK HER HAND, raised it to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Making love to her might not be wise, but the harm would be minimal, wouldn’t it? They’d spend one night together as Ethan Blair and Zoë McNamara. In the morning he’d get up before she woke, he’d take the envelope that she’d stuffed into her bag, and he’d leave her in the care of the two men who were down in the lobby.
Turning her hand over, he pressed a kiss into her palm and savored the way her eyes darkened. This time, both Jed Calhoun and Ethan Blair would stay the hell away from her until the danger was over. Then, because he could no longer prevent himself, he framed her face with his hands and covered her mouth with his.
Oh, yes, this was what it had felt like the last time he’d kissed her—this giant leap off a very steep cliff. Desire built at such a breakneck speed that he thought of dragging her to the floor and taking her there before either of them could change their minds. When he finally drew back to think, to breathe, she said his name, “Ethan…”
A series of little alarm bells went off in the back of his mind. He was making love to her as Ethan this time, and not Jed. He’d better remember that. If Jed had given her fun, Ethan, his more serious counterpart, would make an attempt at giving her romance. Taking her hand he drew her with him into the bedroom.
Moonlight streamed into the room, splashing across the bed. He purposely didn’t switch on the lights. Turning to her, he touched only her hair. He’d been wanting to over and over again since he’d noticed in the bar that she was wearing it down. When he rubbed it between his fingers, he caught the scent of vanilla.
Jed went with his instincts, so Ethan would have a plan. He drew a finger along the edge of the lace camisole that she was wearing, absorbing the softness of the fabric and the even softer skin that lay beneath it. He’d been wanting to do that all evening, too.
Jed had asked her to strip, so Ethan would undress her. After undoing the button, he slipped the jacket off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Jed had asked her to take a tumble with him in a hammock, so Ethan would make love to her slowly just as he’d been about to do in his fantasy.
He slipped his fingers beneath the camisole and drew it slowly over her head. And that was when his plan began to fade. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Surprise and delight shot through him. “Zoë,” he murmured as he slid his hands from her waist to just under her arms. Then he lightly brushed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. They were already erect and hard.
So was he. Every muscle in his body had tightened in response. A pulse was beating at her throat, and his own blood had begun to pound in the same fast rhythm. He very nearly lost his train of thought when her eyelids lowered and her breath began to hitch.
Still watching her, he lowered his hands to her waist and unsnapped her jeans. The sound was erotic and his fingers fumbled as he pushed down the fabric. He’d gotten them to her knees when he saw something that made his own breath hitch. Beneath those very practical jeans, she was wearing red lace panties.
He dropped to his knees, and simply stared at them. Zoë McNamara was just one surprise after another. He had no idea how long he’d knelt there before her hands covered his to push at the jeans. Minutes? Hours?
Giving his head a little shake to clear it, he said, “No. Let me.” But his gaze remained fixed on the fire-engine red panties. They were a combination of lace and silk, and he was hard-pressed to remember that he was Ethan, and not Jed.
Somehow he managed to get her jeans off. But then he simply had to touch. He took his time, drawing his finger along the red lace where it rode high on her thigh. Fantasies were made of this. Jed would say that out loud. Ethan would only think it.