Love Irresistibly (FBI/US Attorney #4)(41)

“Someone who lived off campus for three years with an aunt who had a apartment in the city, so that she could save money on rent and be able to afford her textbooks. Someone who . . . just kept chugging away, always trying to stay one step ahead of the pack, and probably didn’t stop worrying that she might do something to screw it all up until she got her first paycheck as a lawyer. And truly, I have no idea why I’m telling you this stuff,” Brooke finished, not having meant to ramble on like that.

She waited for Cade to say something. Anything. Instead, he was just standing there, looking at her. She squirmed, feeling very . . . exposed. “Stop staring at me like that. I’m not one of your witnesses, Morgan.”

He moved even closer, still not saying a word, and then she realized that he was waiting for her to look at him. So she did. Peered defiantly right up into those amazing blue eyes of his. “Don’t make me break out the tough-girl routine again,” she warned him.

Cade touched her chin. “You don’t scare me, Brooke Parker. Not even with the tough-girl routine.”

Maybe it was because of the fact that she’d just oddly shared more about her background than she had in her last three relationships. But right then, as he peered down into her eyes, she felt as though he was truly seeing her, not the high-powered general counsel of Sterling wearing a suit and expensive high heels who handled whatever came her way without batting an eyelash. Just plain old Brooke.

She tilted her head up and kissed him.

Without hesitation, as if he’d been waiting for just this, his lips slowly moved over hers as his fingers fanned out to cup her face. He was such a good kisser—sexy and playful, and yet very much in charge.

Brooke wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled closer, and she felt his other hand move to the small of her back, pressing her against him. Her breath caught at the feel of his long, lean body against hers, his mouth hot and demanding, until he pulled back and peered down at her.

His eyes were dark. “Brooke.”

She knew what he was asking. “Yes.”

Immediately, Cade took her hand and led her—quite briskly—along the sidewalk.

“Thank God I’m not wearing the red high heels today,” she said.

“In two minutes you’ll be wearing nothing,” he said in a low voice.

Well, then.

About halfway down the block, he led her through a wrought-iron gate and up the steps of an elegant gray stone building. From the mailboxes outside the front door, there appeared to be six units, including one for unit 3B, labeled “Morgan.”

Cade unlocked the front door and pulled her inside. He led her up two flights of stairs, then they got caught up kissing against the door to his apartment. She sunk her fingers into his hair as her tongue clashed with his, while he simultaneously slid his keys into the lock and let them into the apartment.

She took a quick peek as the door shut behind them, curious to check out Maison de Morgan, and saw a nicely decorated place that was clearly a bachelor pad. A large black leather sectional and matching oversized ottoman took up most of the living room, facing a large plasma television mounted over a fireplace. She saw a small dining room, and a staircase beyond that, and was just wondering where the stairs led when Cade picked her up in a fluid, effortless move and carried her . . . somewhere.

“Your shoulder,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Oh, crap.” He dropped her a few inches, making her gasp, and then winked when he caught her. “Kidding. I’ll be okay.”

Brooke smiled, not sure she’d ever before met someone who could simultaneously make her laugh while inspiring some very naughty thoughts. In response, she adjusted her position, deliberately settling his thick, hard erection between her legs.

Heat flashed in his eyes. “Actually, more than okay.” He set her down on something cool—a glass table in the dining room—and quickly relieved her of her ponytail, tossing the band to the side and watching as her hair tumbled wildly over her shoulders.

“I’ll be needing that hair tie later,” she told him.

“Much later.” Cade lowered his head and kissed her neck, his lips trailing an erotic path along her skin.

Brooke inhaled unsteadily, her head falling back. Oh, God, that felt incredible.

“There are two ways we can do this,” he said. “Being a gentleman, I’ll let you decide. Option A is nice and slow and fancy, and then there’s Option B.”

“What’s Option B?”

He stepped back and yanked his T-shirt over his head.

Whoa, Nelly.

“I like Option B so far,” Brooke said, awestruck as he stood before her.

Delights abounded everywhere she looked—smooth, summer-bronzed skin, toned chest muscles, broad, strong shoulders and arms, and a hard, flat stomach. She’d never been a woman who’d gone crazy over athletes before, or ex-athletes, but it was almost obnoxious how incredible he looked without his shirt.

She made a mental note to be aggravated about this later. Much later.

“Option B, it is.” Seemingly pleased with this decision, Cade reached for her, and within seconds her shirt lay on the ground next to his. Then her jean shorts, too. He paused then, and took in the sight of her, nearly naked before him on his dining table.

She expected him to say something teasing and coy. Par for the course with them.