Marriage Made on Paper(29)

Her pale breasts, high and firm, her nipples puckered and tight against the wet, clinging fabric of her top, her long, exposed legs, more perfect than his mind could have ever imagined them to be, had him hard and aching. He wanted her, and all of the reasons for him not to have her were becoming less and less significant.

She leaned back, took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling, his eyes drawn to the pale, creamy skin. “I should take vacations. Or go outside of my condo and go the beach once in a while. You make time for recreation and you’re a lot more successful than I am.”

“I lived eight years with very little personal life. I’ve learned to make the time,” he said.

“I need to, I think. I didn’t before we came here, but … now I do.”

She rolled to her side, propping her head up on her elbow. His heart leapt. There wasn’t a single swimsuit model that could possibly be more beautiful than Lily, with her unconscious, uncalculated sensuality. It was a provocative pose, her breasts nearly spilling out of her top, her waist seeming even smaller, her hip rounder, in that position, yet he could see nothing in her eyes that even hinted at any knowledge of it.

Lily wasn’t sheltered. She wasn’t naive. But she seemed so unaware of the power she could wield over a man. Of the power she had over him now.

“I think I … My life is so focused on work. On getting further and further ahead. I never even give myself a chance to enjoy anything else in life. I love my job, and I enjoy work, but … I never date.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Okay, I’ve dated,” she said. “In fact, recently I’ve had several very disastrous dates set up by well-meaning friends.”

“Why would you have your friends set you up? Why not just date someone you meet and are attracted to?”

She laughed softly. “That would require getting out of my house or the office on occasion.”

“You could have any man you wanted,” he said, his voice rough.

She looked at him, her dark eyes unveiled for a moment, the heat in their dark depths calling out to him, making his body ache for her. Making him ache for her in more than just physical ways. “I haven’t really wanted any men.”

“You want me,” he said, not seeing any point in skirting the issue.

“I … sometimes I think I do,” she said, her voice a whisper. She looked away from him then. It was strange, seeing her unsure, seeing her vulnerable. He wanted her to be bold, to show confidence, to give him some kind of sign that she was open to a purely physical fling.

If her take-no-prisoners attitude from the boardroom carried over to the bedroom, she would. But when it came to attraction she seemed to lose all of the boldness. All that hardened attitude turned soft. It made him want to comfort her. To just hold her against him until the tension left her body and she softened against him, softened for him.

He sucked in a breath, consigning the consequences of his actions to hell, and leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. He waited, waited to see what her reaction would be. That wasn’t his usual style, but she was nothing like his usual women.

She looked at him then, her dark eyes unsure. He kissed her again, more insistently this time, his hands skimming the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip. When he slid his hands around to her backside and slipped his fingers just barely beneath the waistband of her bikini bottoms she sucked in a shocked breath, parting her lips, giving him the chance to slide his tongue into her mouth.

She brought her hands up to his arms and gripped his biceps, clinging to him. She moaned softly as he abandoned her mouth, pressing kisses to the soft, tender column of her throat. Kissing the pulse that fluttered at the base of her neck.

Then he captured her mouth again, moving both of his hands to her backside and bringing her so that she was resting partly on top of him. Her thigh was pressed against his erection, the slight pressure pleasure and torture at the same time.

She pulled away, her eyes wide, her breathing harsh. “Oh.” She rested her head on his chest, her heart pounding hard enough that he could feel it against his stomach. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, despite the persistent ache in his groin reminding him they were nowhere near finished, and ran his fingers through her hair. “Do what?”

“You make me forget why this is a very bad idea. You make me forget why I decided it can’t happen. I can’t think of anything when you kiss me.”

“That’s a good thing, Lily.”

“I don’t know that it is.”

Lily slithered away from Gage and stood on wobbly legs. She felt light-headed, like she might pass out. She’d never, ever, been kissed like that. Oh, she’d been kissed, she’d been pretty thoroughly kissed in fact, but it had never felt anything like that. It had never made her forget where she was, who she was, why she shouldn’t be kissing him.