“Something funny?” Lorelei’s voice was husky—probably a side effect of all that screaming—and he turned toward her to see that her eyes were open and watching him. “You’ve got a little smile on your face.”
“Why? Are you thinking you’re the one who put it there?”
Her lips twitched. “If it were anyone other than you … maybe.”
“Now who’s wearing a smile?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it. That was pretty damn amazing.”
The honesty of that purred statement floored him—figuratively speaking, at least. He was glad he was already lying down. Then Lorelei stretched, catlike, her back arching off the bed and drawing his eyes to her small but perfectly shaped breasts. The sensual movement caused his brain to short-circuit. Her skin seemed luminescent in the half light, the curves begging to be traced again. He knew how that skin felt under his hands, and how it would respond to his touch.
She laughed quietly. “I feel like I should thank you.”
That got his attention. He looked at her and grinned. “Well, you’re quite welcome,” he answered formally.
She shot him an exasperated look, but there was humor behind it, not irritation. “I meant for appeasing my curiosity.”
“And is it appeased?”
Lorelei stretched again—probably just to torture him—before collapsing back on to the bed with a sigh. “Definitely appeased.” She grinned and rolled to her side, propping her head on her fist. “I knew it was a pity I couldn’t remember last time. High marks across the board, by the way.”
This was a different Lorelei. Relaxed. Not biting his head off. How novel. “Oh, good. I was worried.”
She snorted. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“And somehow I’m not surprised that you do.”
The sheet across her legs shifted as she wiggled her legs. “As soon as I get full feeling back in my legs I’ll get dressed and call a cab.”
The casual statement did something bad to him that he couldn’t quite name. Trying to keep it out of his voice, he tried for a lecherous smile. “So soon?”
“I think it’s probably a wise idea.” She bit her bottom lip as she looked at the sheets tangled around her. “And I’m due for one, don’t you think?”
A second taste of Lorelei had only whetted his appetite for more. There were several inches of her skin he had yet to explore and, no matter how insane it was, he very much wanted Lorelei to stay exactly where she was.
Well, not exactly where she was; she needed to move about two feet closer. Or all the way back on top of him. That would be good.
Good Lord, when had he completely lost the big brain/little brain battle? Lorelei was offering him an easy out of this situation; he should be jumping on it, helping her into her dress and straight into a cab. Hell, he hadn’t brought a woman back to his place in years for the very reason that he didn’t know how to get them to leave. It was much easier to claim an early meeting or an important deadline and make a graceful exit while everyone still had a smile on their faces.
It seemed that getting Lorelei to leave wasn’t going to be a problem, though. She was already pushing herself up and swinging her legs off the bed. Her movements seemed a little stiff, though, and her smile had lost its humor, becoming more forced. The casualness from just a few minutes earlier seemed to evaporate.
She reached for her dress, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve got to get up really early in the morning—for a breakfast meeting—so I should probably get on home.”
The irony slammed into him, causing him to laugh and earning him a questioning look from Lorelei. “I never knew until right now how utterly lame that excuse actually sounds.”
Shock crossed her face, but then her lips twisted in amusement. She knew she was busted, but he had to give her points for not denying it.
Lorelei stepped into her dress and began struggling with her zipper, twisting herself like a contortionist and making his shoulder hurt just watching her. Walking up behind her, he moved her hands away and they fell to her sides. She stilled, and he felt her sway slightly toward him before she straightened.
He wanted to slide his hands inside the dress, around the indentation of her waist, but he settled for just resting them on the flare of her hips, letting his thumbs stroke lightly over the bare skin of her lower back. He felt the small tremor that ran over her skin and heard her breath catch.
Neither of them moved, but the pull was real, palpable, like an iron filing trying to resist a magnet, and the small space between their bodies vibrated from it.
Zip the dress. Call her a cab.
But why?