Under Pressure (Body Armor #1)(40)
“We haven’t even had lunch yet.”
And she’d been drinking on an empty stomach. “Sorry about that. I know you have to be hungry.”
“I’d rather dance.” She began swaying her hips.
“I got the phones. You said there were calls you wanted to make.”
“Later.” Back-stepping, she brought him toward the open floor.
“I need to put the groceries away.”
Her gaze darted to the door where he’d left several bags. Pouting, she said, “You have more excuses than I have lies.”
Jumping on that, Leese said, “What lies?”
Her smile slipped, then she frowned. “You don’t want to have sex, you don’t want to dance. You’re such a party pooper.”
Knowing he absolutely couldn’t talk about sex, especially with her in that dress, Leese cupped her face instead and concentrated on what she’d said. “What lies, Cat?”
“Forget it.” She shrugged free of his hands. “You’re the king of denial. Fine. Let’s go with that. But I’m dancing.”
She turned her back and sashayed out to the middle of the floor. Knowing he couldn’t stand there watching, Leese said, “I’ll get some food together.”
“Don’t be too long.” Hiking up the skirt, pretending he didn’t exist, she moved to the music.
Leese had to admit, the woman had rhythm.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TRYING NOT TO watch her, Leese carried the groceries to the kitchen and did a quick reorganization that made more sense than the present setup. He liked everything orderly, but this time the skill came with an effort.
Repeatedly his attention got drawn back to Catalina.
Was it his imagination, or were her gyrations more deliberately sensual now?
The sway of her slim hips, the ecstatic look on her face... Jesus, he almost felt like a voyeur, especially when he imagined her naked.
Would she look that hot during sex?
Would her face have that same expression of abandon if he pinned her to the wall and—
He didn’t need to visualize that.
He needed to concentrate on setting up the kitchen. Not an easy order when with every fiber of his being he knew Cat was right there moving in a way designed to make him insane.
With the groceries put away, he went about making a pitcher of fresh unsweetened tea. Next he sliced up the strawberries he’d bought and put them in a covered container. One way or another, he’d get Cat to eat a little healthier. And thinking of that, now would be a good time to let the chicken marinate—
“What are we eating?”
He turned fast and found her standing far too close. All her dancing had intensified her scent, that of sweet lotion and her sweeter skin. His nostrils flared on a deep breath as he filled his head with her.
“Leese?” Teasing, she swirled her drink and took another sip. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He would stop letting her work him, starting right now. Covering her hand on the glass with his own, he tipped it forward and sniffed. “Bourbon?”
“It was that or gin, whiskey or beer.” With a wrinkle of her nose, she said, “No wine.”
“Really?” Gently, he took the tumbler from her and set it on the counter. “Judging by your glassy eyes, I’d say you’ve probably had enough.”
“Why are you forever trying to curb my appetites?” She stepped against him, all warm, fragrant woman on the make.
God help him. “Cat—”
“First you rule out junk food, then sex, then dancing. And now—”
For the sake of his own sanity, Leese smooshed a finger to her lips. “Stop baiting me.”
She lightly bit him, then sucked his finger into her mouth. With a soft sound of pleasure, she twirled her tongue around him.
Instant boner.
Watching her only made it worse, seeing the way her heavy lashes lowered to hide her eyes, how her lips closed around him.
With both hands holding his wrist, she kept him right there, making him think of blow jobs and release.
By force of will, he got himself together. “Enough, Cat. This isn’t going to happen.”
She bit him lightly, the released him. “You’re so mean.”
“And you’re drunk.”
“Just tipsy.”
Holding her by the elbows, he kept her an arm’s length away. “This situation hasn’t gotten better. If anything, now that you’re tipsy, you’re more off-limits than ever.”
For the longest time she looked at him, judging his sincerity, probably considering ways she might get around his decision, and finally accepted that she couldn’t.
“I looked around the penthouse,” she told him. “Checked out all the rooms, what’s stored where and all the windows and doors and...everything.”
Familiarizing herself with her new surroundings, just in case. Smart. He planned to do the same before bed. But he didn’t want her worrying, and beyond that, he wanted her to trust that he’d protect her. It was his job, so she could relax now. “You’re safe here.”
“I know. I believe it.” She stepped away from him and pulled out a bar stool. It took her a second to maneuver with the dress, but she got that stellar little ass onto the stool and propped her elbows on the bar. Not looking at him, she said, “Sometimes knowing and believing something isn’t enough to shake the fear.”