Not in Her Wildest Dreams(28)

Now, however, as an adult, she could say, "Lyle didn't deserve to be hit  any more than you did. He sure as heck doesn't deserve to be fired now  because of it."

"He deserves to be fired because he makes a lousy employee. The only reason he still has a job is my father's fear of change."

"He needs that job, Sterling. There aren't many places to work in this  town. He stays in Liebe Falls for Zack. If you fire him, Brit loses her  support payments."

Sterling tasted his coffee, keeping his thoughtful gaze on her.

She moved forward to pick up a screw that had rolled to the floor and  set it on the counter. "Deep down he's a good man. He just had lousy  role models and yes, he has a drinking problem. If I could fix that, I  would. Believe me."

"I don't buy that. You had the same role models. You could have made a  career of picking up barflies at The Mill. Instead you left town a  virgin. Far as I know, anyway."

She raised her brows. "‘Til I was twenty-two, if you must know. Will you  promise me you won't fire Lyle without talking to me first?"

"Twenty-two? Really? Has Seattle got a large population of gay men?  Because I can't believe no one made a play sooner than that." He'd lost  some of his implacable hardness, was holding his cup in loose fingers  and his eyelids were at a considering half-mast.

"I have a healthy respect for the consequences of lust."

He lifted his brows, a prompt for her to continue.         

     



 

She set the screws inside the overturned switch plate so they'd be less  likely to roll away again and said with some reluctance, "I watched Dad  destroy his relationships because he follows wherever his urges take  him. Britta wound up pregnant and married, stuck here because she gave  in to her hormones. She kicked Lyle out because he cheated, and he  really wanted to be with Zack, but couldn't seem to help himself with  Tina." She shrugged. "Heck, when I got carried away with you, it turned  out pretty awful. It makes a girl wary. So, about Lyle?"

"Is that what you meant last night, when you said it was a bad idea?  You're scared of your own sexual feelings? That's what you're saying?"

"No." This was not what she'd come here to talk about. Flutters of  caution started up in the depths of her abdomen. She eyed the door.

He noticed and a bemused smile lit his expression.

"What?" She scowled.

"Nothing." He set his hips against his sturdy cherrywood table, his  coffee mug making a soft thunk as he placed it where he wouldn't knock  it over. "Just that you wouldn't be looking to escape if there wasn't  something making you nervous."

All her flee instincts went on red alert. "I have a lot of work to get  back to. That box of paperwork needs sorting, for starters. So if we  could agree on Lyle?"

"Chicken," he mocked, amused, darned close to smug. "Come here," he  invited, spacing his feet wide so there was room for her between his  legs.

The little flutters in her tummy grew into swirls and eddies of stronger currents. She hugged herself and stayed where she was.

"Just for a minute." He leaned forward and plucked at the hem of her T-shirt, cajoling her to move closer.

"I'm telling you, I know better." But she let him draw her two reluctant  steps forward. Idiot. No sense of self-preservation at all. At least  she'd brushed her teeth.

He splayed his fingers out so the heat of his palms rested on the  outsides of her thighs, his fingertips extended below the edge of her  shorts, making her bare skin tingle.

He was leaning forward, eye-to-eye with her, and he shifted his hands to  apply the tiniest bit of pressure to the back of her legs, an  invitation to step closer. She didn't, and his hands settled more warmly  against the backs of her thighs, the ‘U' of his thumbs and forefingers  shaping the bottom curves of her buttocks.

Sensation raced inward, stabbing a sharp point between her thighs and  spreading heat upward through her ribcage, tightening her nipples so  they hurt.

She could smell him, warm and male, coffee and laundry soap and a woodsy deodorant. Heady and enthralling.

"You know," he murmured, "whenever I think about getting another chance  with you, you're still a virgin, but I am oh-so-much better equipped to  deal with that."

Amused, breathless, she said, "And this does it for you?"

"Every night since I've been back in town."

She tried to shake her head, but when he applied pressure to her legs  again, more insistent this time, she moved closer, so her stomach grazed  the rippled fly of his shorts.

She held her breath as he slid his hands up, over her hips, trailing the  backs of his bent knuckles along the sides of her breasts, watching the  path his hands took.

"So this feels wrong?" he asked. "Forbidden? ‘Cause I can work with that."

Her throat grew thick and her voice refused to show up.

He splayed his hands over her ribs, pulling her T-shirt taut so her  breasts and nipples were profiled by the soft cotton. They both stared  at the evidence of her growing arousal.

His one hand went behind her back, knotting the fabric in his fist  between her shoulder blades. The pressure unbalanced her. She had to  take one more step, pressing herself into the notch of his thighs. He  hugged her with the strength of his legs, and steadied her with the bar  of his forearm behind her while he raised his other hand to oh so  carefully draw his fingertip across the jut of her nipple.

She gasped at the sensation, so intense from such a light touch.

"Scared?" he asked in a whisper.

"Terrified." She was. Her heart was pounding and her brain kept telling  her she really ought to leave. Or finish talking about whatever they'd  been talking about. Or something.

He slid down an inch so she could feel his erection against her mound  while he ran his hand up and down her side, gently shaping her breast  and gliding away, lifting her arm and bringing her hand to his shoulder.

She brought the other one up, dug her fingernails into the bare skin at  the top of his spine, grazed her hands across his beautifully developed  shoulders, thinking she ought to stop this, but lust-oh, yes it was pure  lust-hazed her thoughts. She began to rationalize allowing this.         

     



 

Which was the real source of her fear: that she wouldn't make a lucid  decision, but would let unfettered desire take her where it would. She  was already sinking into him, tilting her head so he could nuzzle her  neck, boneless. Shameless.

She closed her eyes, told herself it was just a little necking and she'd  stop him in a minute, then he gently pinched her nipple. Automatically  using the leverage of her hips to put space between their chests, she  found pressure where she needed it most. She wriggled into the vee of  his thighs, moaning softly.

"Too much?" he asked in a gruff voice, fingers still playing, his thighs relaxing so she could roll her hips freely.

She made a noise of negation against his throat, left a tiny love bite when he pinched her again.

He twisted her so her head fell against his shoulder and her mouth was  angled just right for his kiss, then he played the front of her body  like an instrument, fingers skimming and drawing sweet notes of  sensation so she arched, taut and needy.

Cupping his head in both hands, she kissed him with blatant enjoyment,  taking her fill because things were getting wild fast and she needed to  leave, but she just wanted a good drink.

His tongue felt really good stroking hers, and she liked his touch on  her breasts. The way he rubbed her stomach was a surprising turn on  and-she sucked in her stomach as she felt his hand climb beneath her  T-shirt.

She shouldn't let him, she knew she shouldn't, but oh that felt good.  Her skin was cool from the morning air, his hand hot, branding her and  making her nipple prickle with excitement.

Blind passion swamped her. She needed to feel his skin.

Him. Needed him.

She yanked to lift his shirt from the press of their bodies.

He helped her, then it was gone. She could see and smell and taste.

And feel.

They paused once in the hall, when he pressed her against the wall. He  said, "Slow down," but she had the thick heat of him in her hands, his  open fly rough against the back of her hand.

His hands moved to tug at her shorts.

They scattered their clothing on the floor beside the bed. She lowered  onto a cool cloud of blue as he covered her with hot skin and flexing  muscle. The weight of a fiercely aroused man pinned her to the bed,  delicious in a way she'd been missing since leaving her husband. She  loved the feel of a man on her like this. Rough hair, no give, demanding  hands, one going behind her knee while he slid down from sucking her  breast to lick her stomach.

God, she was on fire. "No, I need you in me. Now."

He made a guttural, angry sound and slid up. In. She was so wet, there was no resistance, only delicious hard heat filling her.

Finally. She arched, groaning with abject passion, letting him know unreservedly that this was good, so good.