"Take your pants off."
His eyes flew open. "Huh?"
She ran the cloth under the cold water tap. "So I can put this on your..." She glanced down at his crotch and chewed her lip. "Doesn't it hurt?"
Oh yeah. It ached. But not from hot coffee.
"It's a little warm down there."
She fumbled with his belt. "Then we have to get this towel on quick."
Great, just his luck. His soul mate was trying to get his pants off but only so she could place a cold towel on his erection. Not his idea of a fun time.
He pried her fingers away from his fly before she noticed his growing arousal, and entwined them in his. She didn't untangle them but looked up. Concern furrowed her brow and her eyes searched his.
"Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry. Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you want to go the bathroom."
He shook his head, not trusting his voice. She stood so close he could see the green flecks in her eyes. If he leaned forward, just a little, he'd be able to taste her.
But she took a step back. She glanced down at his chest and placed her hand against his burning flesh. "You're all red." The furrow deepened. "I feel absolutely terrible. I never spill things. It's just that I wasn't expecting you to be so close and your voice made me jump and the coffee went everywhere—"
He didn't know what to say to shut her up so he kissed her. Slowly at first, exploring, tasting. Then it grew deeper and she sighed against his mouth and he couldn't get enough of her. He gathered her in his arms, crushing her to him. Her nipples rubbed to points through her thin bra and he ached to remove the fabric rudely separating his flesh from her lush breasts. Her body shuddered and he couldn't believe this woman, this woman he'd known forever, this intelligent, beautiful woman, was having that sort of response to him.
Her fingernails trailed lightly down his back and grabbed his ass, gripping tight.
"Your ass is mine," she muttered into their kiss.
Way too many Eastwood movies but he wasn't complaining. She could claim his ass any time she wanted.
He flicked the buttons on her shirt and spread the flaps open to reveal a path of creamy flesh. He ran his hands over her stomach, her shoulder, her back, unable to get enough of her warmth and softness. Then he took a step back, saw the desire in her eyes and felt his heart grow full. She wanted him. Nothing felt as good as the moment he realized that.
Maddie had thought she could resist Sam Hennessy, but now she knew she wasn't that strong. No mortal woman could expect to be. He was her fantasy man and just for tonight, she was going to see at least one fantasy fulfilled. Even if it meant living off the memory of it for the rest of her lonely, boring life.
He decorated her throat, her shoulders, the swell of her breasts with delicate kisses. She tipped her head back and moaned, relishing in the heat that rocketed up from her thighs and infused her body. His hot mouth was everywhere, nibbling and sucking and driving her wild.
Some dim vestige of common sense surfaced from the tidal wave of desire swamping her and reminded her that she didn’t do wild. Being wild meant losing control and she definitely didn’t want to do that. Not in front of Sam. She’d sufferend enough embarrassment after the boating incident.
But she couldn’t find it in her to end the encounter. Not when every part of her body screamed for more. She could, however, turn the tables a little.
She bent to explore him with her mouth, kissing away the taste of coffee from each hard nipple. She’d never taken much notice of a man’s nipples before. How they pebbled with each lick. How he seemed to enjoy the way her tongue circled them, flicked with them. He arched into her and groaned.
Oh yeah, he liked it. So what would he do if she went further south? Time for an experiment.
She licked down to his navel where tiny black coils of hair disappeared into the top of his jeans. He moaned. She smiled into his warm skin and unzipped his fly.
But before she had a chance to reach in further, he tugged her up and caught her round the waist. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the bedroom. He placed her on the bed then stood back.
And did nothing.
Oh God, what a time for Pheramour to wear off!
But instead of turning away disgusted, his gaze raked across her body, sending fire shooting up her spine, burning her throat, her breasts, her face.
She sat up and pulled the edges of her shirt together, suddenly self-conscious because, well, it was Sam Hennessy and even his worst dates would've had leaner, better bodies than hers.
"Um, maybe we shouldn't," she said.
He nodded. "Maybe we should." He crouched beside her and gently but firmly pried her arms away, then kissed her just below the ear.
She pulled away. "But we're not even seeing each other."