Talking Dirty with the CEO(36)

And then she pulled open the door and her good intentions scattered like a flock of nervous hens.

Joseph, all lithe, athletic grace, lounged in the hallway outside. Dressed in black jeans, a snug dark-blue T-shirt, and Chuck Taylor sneakers, he looked even more handsome than he had in his suit at the product launch. Oh, boy, was she in trouble. Big trouble.

“Hey, Naughtygirl,” he said and gave her the grin she remembered. The grin that made it difficult to breathe. “I like your hair.”

Pleased he’d noticed her haircut, she blushed like a fool. “Uh, thanks. Come in.”

As he stepped inside and she shut the door behind him, an arm snaked around her waist, drawing her close. Then he turned her in his arms, sliding his fingers into her hair and pulling her head back, his mouth covering hers.

A sigh escaped her as desire began to build, filling her up like a rain-swollen river. Why did it feel like she’d missed this? They’d only been to bed twice and yet she felt like a starving woman given her first taste of chocolate. Could she really have built up such a craving for him after so little time?

Joseph lifted his head, smiling at her soft sound of protest. “You know I’m not just here for sex, right?”

Christie lifted her arms around his neck, an absurd dart of happiness going through her. As if his presence had somehow lifted the cloud she’d felt settle over her all week.

“Well, I hope you didn’t come here just for conversation.” She pressed her body against him, feeling the hard evidence of his desire, loving the way the blue flame leaped in his eyes in response.

“Considering I’ve never had a proper conversation with you, I’m kind of thinking that mightn’t be a bad idea.”

She pulled a face. “Why?”

“Christie.” His fingers circled her wrists, drawing her hands away from him. The look on his face told her he intended to get his way. “I’m curious. Indulge me.”

Blowing out a long breath, she tried not to feel sulky and failed. “Fine.” She waved an arm at the tiny space of her living room. “Well, ta-da. Welcome to my humble abode. Pretty much all you see is all you get.”

Joseph stepped away from her and she had to close her hands into fists to keep from reaching after him. He began to prowl around the room, all fluid grace and power. Like a lion in a cage and just as restless. It made her feel nervous again, though she didn’t really understand why.

“It’s great,” he said. “Small and perfectly formed.” He flashed her a glance. “Just like you.”

Christie felt her cheeks go hot. “Hey, I’m not small.”

“But you are perfectly formed.”

Which only made her blush harder.

He made another pass around the room before stopping by her dining table, the surface strewn with electronics and computer parts. He frowned at it and then said, in tones of deep surprise, “My God, is than an Arkon 75?”

The question startled her. Not many people recognized the vintage computer she was in the process of rebuilding. They’d first come out about thirty years ago and she’d been enjoying the challenge of trying to get it going again.

She wandered over to the table. “Yeah. How did you know?”

He didn’t look up, his attention caught by the half-built computer sitting on the dining table. “Are you kidding me? My dad had one of these. I grew up with it.” He leaned over to peer inside the computer box. “This is incredible. You’re rebuilding it?”

Christie leaned her hip against the table, feeling oddly shy. She’d gotten into fiddling with electronics after she’d discovered her brother’s forgotten crystal set. Her mother had disapproved of her interest, naturally enough. In her opinion, teenage girls should be into clothes and makeup, not wires and circuits. But for Christie it had been like finally finding the thing she was really good at. That and writing.

“Um…yeah, I am,” she admitted, biting her lip.

Long, clever fingers touched some of the wires.

“Be careful,” she said automatically.

He gave a soft laugh. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing, believe me.” His eyes glinted as he glanced up at her. “When I was a kid, I pulled dad’s computer apart because I wanted to see how it worked. Admittedly that was before I knew how to put it back together again. My mother…” He stopped suddenly. Looked away.

“Your mother?” she prompted, looking down at him.

Black lashes feathered his cheekbones, his attention on the computer. “Was angry with me,” he said after a moment. “I could never sit still, always had to be doing something. I once took apart her washing machine because I wanted to see where all the water went. She was not happy.”