Strong and Sexy (Sky High Air #2)(21)

She looked into his eyes, feeling her heart sigh just a little. He’d been so patient tonight. She’d bet he was a good waiter. The best of waiters…which brought her mind back to his kisses.

“Dani.” His voice sounded soft, a little husky, as if he knew where her thoughts had gone.

And she felt a catch in her chest. He’d been such an amazing kisser.

His fingers were playing with her coat, and then one of her shoulders was bared as he nudged it, and in spite of herself, she leaned in. “Help me wait, Shayne.” Sliding her hands up his chest, into his hair, she entangled them in the wavy strands.

His eyes darkened, and her body reacted to that and the unbelievable amounts of adrenaline in her system. “We could talk,” he said.

“Talk.”

“Uh-huh.” He let their noses gently bump. “Talk.”

They were breathing each other’s air, just looking into each other’s eyes, and the moment seemed so startlingly intimate, she couldn’t move. “I don’t feel much like talking.” Oh, God. Had she just said that? Really?

“No?” He tilted his head so that their noses were no longer bumping.

Now their mouths were lined up perfectly.

“No…”

“Dani—”

God, she really loved the way he said her name, all raspy and extremely male.

“What else did you have in mind?”

Honestly? There wasn’t a single thought in her head that wasn’t a dirty, wicked little fantasy. Certainly nothing she could mention. “I can think of several things.”

He smiled, that killer smile that scraped at all her happy spots.

“Shayne?”

“Yeah?”

“How is it that when I’m with you, I don’t feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“I don’t know.” He ran a finger over her ear and made her shiver. “For me, it’s the opposite.”

“So I…rattle you?” And was that good?

Or bad?

But the look in his eyes told her. It was good, very, very good, and it set off all sorts of alarms inside her. “We can’t really do this again,” she murmured.

“No. Because there isn’t any mistletoe.”

Be strong. Say it. Believe it. “Because we’re not going to date.”

“Right. No dating.” He nudged the coat off her other shoulder as well. “Because…?”

“Because you’re not my type,” she said, reminding herself. So not her type.

His soft laugh brushed the hair at her temple. “Liar.”

Oh, God, she thought. Toss me a life vest, because I’m going down… He was warm, so deliciously, wonderfully warm, and exactly her type. So much so that her body leaned to his like a heat-seeking missile. And this time, when their mouths touched, it was more like a homecoming than she’d ever experienced, and she opened for him, opened and let out a sound that would have been horrifying for its dark neediness except for the fact that he matched the sound with one of his own.

All by themselves, her hands slid beneath his shirt—to warm them up, she told herself as she ran her fingers over a set of abs that made her tremble, and though he sucked in a shocked breath at the iciness of her touch and let out a low “holy shit,” he seemed to like her hands on him. Pulling her coat off, he bent his head and took his mouth on a hungry tour over her bared throat, her shoulder.

Her entire body quivered with anticipation.

He had all the access he needed. Her T-shirt provided little coverage. It was wet, clinging, and he easily pushed it up as his hand skimmed her belly to cup her breast, holding it for his mouth. His tongue rasped over her nipple, and the only sound was her head thunking back against the passenger seat. And then her moan, along with another of those horrifyingly needy gasps for air, as if she’d just run a 5K.

“Still not dating me?” he asked against her skin.

Oh, he sounded smug, didn’t he. At least he was breathing heavy too. Yeah, that worked for her, knowing she wasn’t completely alone in this. “No. Still not dating you—Ohmigod.” His thumb had rasped over her other nipple. “Shayne—”

At the knock on the window, they both jumped so high they nearly bumped their heads on the roof.

A cop stood there, looking an awful lot like…

Shayne.

In a moment that summed up all the moments of poor timing in her life, his brother had arrived.





Chapter 8




D ani watched as Patrick Mahoney walked through her apartment, jotting notes on a pad of paper. She couldn’t tell if he’d believed a word she’d told him. She couldn’t tell if he thought she was crazy.

The only thing she could tell was that he really did look like Shayne’s twin, which is to say tall and rangy and effortlessly sexy with that untamed wavy hair and see-all golden eyes. Except his weren’t nearly as warm as Shayne’s.

She tightened the belt on her coat and tried not to picture exactly what Patrick had seen when he’d knocked on the window of Shayne’s car. Tried not to think what might have happened if he hadn’t knocked on the window of Shayne’s car.

Seriously, she couldn’t believe she’d—

That he’d—

That they’d nearly—