Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(72)

She didn’t break eye contact. “I’m broken inside. I can’t connect with people.”

“Really?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Then what’s happening between us? Is this all in my head?” He motioned between them.

Her heart skipped. “No.”

“OK then. What Blaine did to you is in the past. It isn’t a reflection on you, but I will keep it in the back of my head. I can’t help that.” He brushed a piece of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I care about you.” He kissed her, sliding off his stool to stand in front of her. “You need to send your brain on vacation. You’re overanalyzing everything. Just relax and let it happen.”

“Let what happen?” She shifted, leaning back. Her robe gaped. Cool air washed over hot skin.

His gaze dropped to the opening. “I don’t know. I can’t predict the future.” He splayed his hand on the center of her chest. Her heart thumped against his palm. “I feel things for you I’ve never felt before.”

“I’ve never let anyone get this close. I’ve always kept relationships casual. Nothing about our lovemaking yesterday was casual.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes. Sometimes it’s downright scary,” he admitted. “But I’m brave. If we need to make love over and over until we get used to it, I’m willing to suffer through it.”

“You’ll take one for the team?”

He grinned. “Dozens if necessary.”

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “This is serious.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” His hand moved, brushing aside the fabric of her robe to reveal her breast. “Sex can be fun and intense at the same time.”

His thumb teased her nipple. A yearning flared deep in her belly.

“Tell me. What set your hormones off in a sprint last night?” He moved closer, nudging her legs apart with his knee. Her robe fell fully open, her nudity exposed to him. His lips brushed her collarbone. “What turns you on?”

She tilted her head back to give him more room. “It was the guitar.”

“It worked well for me in high school.” He laughed. “But I never thought it would attract a genius and a scholar.”

“Yes, the guitar is hot.” Her brain synapses weren’t firing well enough for long sentences.

“Does that make you my groupie?” He kissed her ear and sang softly. “I want you to want me.”

His breath caressed her neck. Her hands burrowed into his thick hair. Her head fell back, wanting his mouth on the rest of her skin. “No matter what you sing, I’m not throwing my panties at you in public.”

He chuckled. “Clearly, you’ve been talking to my siblings.”

“Um. Yes.” Louisa tilted her head.

“How about in private?” He nuzzled her neck, finding the sweet spot at the base of her throat. Where were his hands, and why weren’t they on her skin?

Her legs parted, her bare core pressing against his hard, denim-clad thigh. How could her body respond to him again? “Maybe. I’m not wearing any now.”

“I noticed,” he moaned. “Next time you wear one of those fancy, uptight suits, I’m going to be thinking about you without panties.”

“Maybe I won’t wear any,” she teased, shocked at the easy way the banter rolled between them. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps a relationship could be fun. With him she could imagine that possibility.

He froze and pulled his lips off her neck to stare down into her eyes. His pupils were large and dark, hunger eclipsing the bright color. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking now? Want to know my ultimate fantasy, what I’ve been thinking about doing since the first day I met you in that museum in Maine?”

She shivered. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. His gaze raked over her. She followed its slow progress over her breasts and belly down to her spread thighs and back up again. He licked his lips.

“Here’s my fantasy.” His voice deepened. “You’re wearing that gray suit, the super conservative one. And those black framed glasses that make you look smart.” His hand snaked out and picked up her reading glasses from the counter. He set them on her nose. “You’re at work, sitting in that executive chair, looking all smart and prissy and untouchable. Until I come in. I lock the door behind me. I kneel in front of you and unbutton your blouse. It’s white and crisp and nerdy. You’re wearing a white lace bra, which I open so I can tongue your nipples.” His voice grew huskier, and his breath stroked over her ear like a caress, but he didn’t touch her. She could see the scene playing out in her head. She went damp all over again just from the mental image. “Would you like me to do that?”

“Yes,” she groaned, leaning back and straining her chest toward him.

He crouched lower. She watched, fascinated, as his tongue laved warm and wet over her nipple until it peaked into a stiff bud. Then he turned his mouth to the other breast. He looked up at her, his eyes totally wicked. “Wanna know what’s next?”

“Yes.” Which seemed to be the only word her brain could generate.

“I push your skirt up to your waist.” His big hands curled around her thighs. He lifted one leg to rest her foot on the stool next to her. The other he put over his shoulder. “I spread your legs and put my mouth to you, and you lose it.”