His dirty words caused a rush of liquid warmth to trickle between her legs. “Oh, God, this is bad,” she gasped, clinging tighter. “Very bad.”
“And so good.” He ground his erection against her, bumped her clit, and she shuddered, writhing to get closer. “Need more.” He ripped his mouth from hers, grabbed the stretchy halter top, and pulled it down to bare her breasts.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
“I just died and went to heaven,” he groaned, his hands cupping her breasts and rubbing her tight nipples. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, especially when he plucked at her, watching her tortured face as if to see what she liked. “You’re like butter and cream, silky smooth. Peach nipples, just like I thought. How do they taste?”
“No, don’t, I don’t think—oh!”
His lips opened over one aching tip, his tongue swiping over and over, nibbling on her like a feast. She drowned in a tidal wave of sensation, her brain shut down, her body exploding on overload like a bad circuit firing up.
Her past seductions consisted of scented candles, romantic verses read aloud, and the taste of champagne. Silken sheets turned down. Long, endlessly orchestrated scenes that she always dreamed she wanted.
Now she realized how they’d barely scratched the surface of her need. Right now, she wanted to push Stone Petty on the ground, climb on top of him, and sink down until he slid deep inside her. She wanted to get sweaty, be loud, and take pleasure on her terms, with nothing holding her back. With a man who wasn’t afraid to be rough, and demanding, and bad.
“I want you. Now. Here.” He looked up, his mouth wet, eyes fierce and so filled with hunger she began to shake. “You want it, too.”
She did.
But she couldn’t.
My God. What was she doing?
Sanity returned. He was all wrong for her! This man irritated her on a constant basis. They’d have crazy sex, and he’d saunter away and torture her with his smug grins for the rest of the anger management class. She was recovering from a broken heart and had no energy to tackle such a sizzling affair. He’d eat her alive. In a good way. In a bad way.
“I can’t.” Arilyn pushed weakly at his shoulders. Her voice got stronger. “I can’t.”
She gave him credit. He backed off immediately, hands lifted in the air as he grabbed for his composure. “Okay. Give me a minute.” She took the time to yank up her top, straighten her clothes, and get herself together. Stone shook his head hard, rubbed his hands over his face, and let out a breath. “Got carried away.”
Satisfaction surged. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one affected by the kiss. Arilyn wondered if she’d ever be able to kiss another man without thinking of Stone. His goatee was a combination of silky and bristly, a delicious contradiction to the softness of his lips. His taste was better than those apple martinis she loved so much. Tart, spicy, with a heat that slid into her bloodstream and exploded in her tummy.
“I did, too,” she offered. “I’m sorry.”
He scowled. “I’m not. Thought you had more backbone than to apologize for a great kiss.”
And just like that, the annoyance was back. “I don’t need this type of complication in my life right now,” she snapped. “You’re a client. We can’t blur the lines.”
Those lush lips that had bestowed such pleasure now treated her to his famous sneer. “Don’t give me that crap. As I just said, I’m not your client, and you’re not my real therapist. You counsel me to control my temper, which is getting frayed right now by your sad excuses.”
She bristled in fury. “Excuses? I don’t need an excuse! We kissed, it was good, I’m over it. Let’s move on. The last thing I need is a pushy cop wrecking my life.”
He got in her face. “Lady, you wrote the book on pushy. A relationship with you would be a nightmare. But you can’t deny we’d steam up the sheets together.”
She gave up poetry for this? He was rude, crude, and owned no soft edges. First he kissed her, then he yelled. Even if she wanted a transitional lover, he was all wrong. Arilyn refused to back down, even if she had to tilt her head back to eyeball him. “Classy. You can go ahead and steam them up with someone else.”
He shook his head as if disgusted by the thought. “Can’t. Chemistry this good is rare. It may piss me off, but we have to explore it.”
She gasped. “In your dreams! It was a complete fluke. I’m not exploring anything with you!”
He studied her with hard eyes, and the man did something so outrageous she didn’t see it coming.