Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(36)

Instinctively, she braced.

He lowered his mug. “All right. Then let’s talk about sex.”

Pleasure speared straight between her legs and her sex fluttered, the mere word making her whole body jolt with awareness. More than anything, she wanted to lick her lip and suggest they do that rather than talk, but something told her she’d be better off keeping her cards tight to her chest. “What about it?”

“You get all it can be for me is sex? No strings? No expectations?”

“I think I got that, yes.”

“And you think you can work within that arrangement?”

“It’s sex. Physical release. So long as the arrangement works both ways, I’m fine with it.”

Something primal flashed behind his eyes, there and gone so fast anyone not watching him closely would’ve missed it.

But she’d been watching. Closely. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Zero hesitation, but voiced with an edge that said otherwise. “You have any problem with me crashing after?”

This time she gave into her need to play. To tease and nudge her predator just a little. She cocked her head and gave him a sly smile. “I should hope not. If you can easily walk out the door, that means we weren’t doing it right.”

He chuckled at that and lifted his mug in salute. “Point taken.”

Looking at him nearly naked and bantering about sex without indulging was too much, so she spun back to her desk, scrolled back to the top of her lesson for the sixth time and started over.

His coffee mug clunked against the Formica and his bare footsteps sounded on the kitchen’s cheap linoleum. A second later, he braced his hands on either side of her, one on her desk and the other on the back of her chair. Black currant and woodsmoke wrapped around her, and his body heat licked against hers. He checked the screen for all of two seconds before he turned his face and murmured close to her ear. “Not making much progress.”

“I was distracted.”

“Mmm.”

A simple hum. Nothing more. But she felt it everywhere. Deeply.

He straightened and her whole body cried out at the loss. Before she could formulate a witty response, or at least refocus on her lesson, he cupped her far knee and spun her in her chair.

“What are you doing?” Mindless to anything but the lingering aftershock of his unexpected touch, the question came out as a whisper.

Thoughtfully, he skimmed the back of his knuckles along the exposed skin above her neckline then farther down along the edge of her robe. When his fingers reached her belt, he crooked them beneath and tugged until the fabric slipped free. Slowly he pushed her robe apart with both hands and sucked in a low breath that bordered on a hiss.

“Knox?”

“Hmm?” Totally focused. A hunter undistracted from his prey.

Still, she tried again, scrambling to find some mental footing in the midst of the sensations his perusal stirred. “What are you doing?”

He palmed her knees, slowly pressed them apart and crouched between them. Rolling to his knees, he gripped her hips, jerked her to the edge of her chair and lifted his hungry gaze to hers. “Wanted to do this the last time I was here.”

He wouldn’t. Dear God, if he put his mouth to her here, she’d never get anything productive done at her desk ever again. “But I have to work.”

He grinned. A wolf’s smile that sent ripples fanning out in all directions. “So do I.” He cupped the back of one knee, lifted it up and as wide as the desk beside her allowed and lowered his mouth toward her sex. “Now, brace, because I’m about to give you thanks for a solid night’s sleep in a way you won’t soon forget.”





Chapter Thirteen

Knox had a ton to do. Between the time he’d taken off Saturday night and his inability to concentrate on Sunday, he was way the fuck behind, but he still couldn’t stop staring at his screen.

It had taken half of last night and most of the morning, but finally he’d found the thread, and now the man Darya had apparently worked for was staring back at him. The picture was black and white and grainy as hell, but she was right behind the guy. Dressed to the nines, she had her head down as though trying to blend into the background.

Like that could ever happen. He’d left her place over twenty-four hours ago and he was still juiced. Not just by the things they’d done, but by the mother of all miracles that had happened when he’d gotten home. Hell, he still couldn’t believe it. The taste of her had still been on his tongue and his dick so hard it hurt to walk. He’d refused to get off with her again—no more condoms and a need to walk out with some kind of upper hand had driven him to leave shortly after she’d come against his mouth. But he’d been naked and flat on his bed in all of five minutes of walking in his front door, stroking one off with the previous night’s details as clear as if they were happening all over again in real life.

He’d come. Hard.

And then he’d fallen asleep.

For four fucking hours.

That shit never happened by his own hand. Ever. Especially after he’d just had eight solid hours the night before. He’d woken with dried spunk on his belly, her scent all over him and his dick ready and raring to go again.

Yeah, he had his work cut out for him keeping his distance. Hell, he wasn’t even sure a repeat was a good idea, no matter how well he’d slept after.