Neighbors with Benefits (Anderson Brothers, #2)(30)

Again, there was a strange, unreadable look on his face as they stood just out of reach in awkward silence. Even from that distance, she swore she could feel the heat rolling off of him, warming her skin and raising her heart rate.

“How well?”

He took a step closer—close enough to touch her, but he didn’t. “How on earth did you know his wife’s dog’s name?”

It was hard to focus with him this close and intense. “Do you watch football?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who played in the Super Bowl last year?”

His gaze shifted to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Of course.”

“Do you know the names of the key players on both teams?”

“Yes.” He dragged the word out, causing his answer to seem directed at something more than the conversation, and her heart rate kicked up another notch.

“Well, I’m into dogs, and the Westminster Dog Show is like the Super Bowl of dog shows. His wife’s dog was a key player in that Super Bowl. I knew its name.”

Again, he moved closer. “You were brilliant.”

“Nothing brilliant about it. I just knew the right trivia. You’re lucky I’m a dog person.” Her voice came out funny-sounding to her ears. Breathy and light.

“Yes, lucky.” Such innocent words in isolation, but the liquid tone of his voice loaded them with promises of nothing innocent—and she loved it. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she held her breath. “Very lucky, Mia.” As he trailed his hands down her arms, she closed her eyes, reveling in the contact.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. But no matter how many times she chanted it in her head, her heart and body called her bluff, and she pictured images of the heated dreams she’d had every night recently about her painfully hot, control freak roomie completely losing control.

Leaving a trail of heat, his fingers skimmed back up her arms and over her shoulders, and then he took the ends of her scarf in his hands, brow furrowing. “Where on earth did you get this ghastly thing?”

“Gladys made it. I like it.”

His clear blue gaze locked on hers and held there. “I like you, Mia.”

And for a moment, the world stood still as she let herself believe he really meant it. He looped the scarf one more time around her neck and her pulse quickened. Then he wound the ends around his palm. With a gentle, constant pressure, he drew her closer still, the comfort of the soft yarn around her throat matching the warm pull low in her belly.

Bad idea, her brain warned again.

Best idea ever, her body answered.

As if having a similar internal debate, he hesitated, studying her face. “How did the woman at Heart’s Home know I dream about you?”

She stifled a gasp. Gladys had been talking about Mia’s dreams, not his.

“Business partners don’t have sex dreams about each other,” he repeated, scarf still wound around his palm, face only inches from hers.

“I…” What was she supposed to say to that? She breathed in through her nose, loving his distinctive scent.

“But I do. I dream about you every night, Mia, and the dreams are spectacular.”

So were hers, and she was certain, as her entire body readied itself, reality would exceed her dreams by a mile.

“What are you thinking right now?” His lips brushed hers. Just a feather of a touch, but her knees trembled.

“Hard to think…”

Lips, warm and firm, molded to hers, and as if clicking a perfectly matched puzzle piece into place, he pulled her against him.

So good. So right. He deepened the kiss and all those days and sleepless nights of longing for him crashed through her in a hot, liquid wave as their tongues danced together and she struggled to remain standing and not dissolve into a puddle at his feet.

One hand still holding the scarf, he ran the other from her shoulder blades to her waist, then lower, holding her firmly in place while he pressed his erection against her, never breaking the kiss. “I want you Mia. I want you now.”

And she wanted him, too. I like you, Mia, he’d said.

He cupped her ass in his hand and squeezed. “I want you in my office.”

As if dancing, he took a step back, pulling her along, once again kissing her.

Yes.

Taking her with him, he shuffled backwards several more steps toward his office door. “I want you naked on my desk.”

Yes…

“I want to lick every inch of your body and make you scream.”

Oh, hell yes…

“I want to take you right there next to the contract Mr. Kawashima just signed.”

And like hitting pause during her favorite song, everything stopped. No.

It wasn’t her he liked. It was what she helped him obtain: the deal. It was all about the deal and his goal. It was not about her. She could have been anyone at that moment. He was celebrating another business triumph, not his attraction to her specifically.

“Business only.”

She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until he froze, loosened his grip on the scarf, and stepped back, cool air swirling where his warmth had been. Then he dropped his arms to his sides, and took another step back. “I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

So had she, but it was even more evident how far gone she’d been, once he’d broken the spell by releasing her, leaving her cold and empty and limp, like a deflated party balloon.