Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)(21)

“Where are we headed, Annalise?”

“I left my purse in our suite—we all use it for the day. It’s kind of cool. Like a dressing room, because the models get ready there.”

“So it’s full of bikinis?”

“Yes. It is”

“Will you model some for me?”

“Would you like me to?” she volleyed back, as the sparks zipped between them. The flirting—the heady, decadent flirting—was fantastic. She wanted to inhale it, let it fill her body like oxygen after too long without air.

“I believe that was established twice—a few minutes ago, as well as on the terrace last night.”

“Last night was interesting,” she said softly as they reached the door.

He tilted his head. “Yeah? Interesting is kind of vague. What made it interesting for you?”

“Seeing you, of course.”

“Was that all?” he asked.

She knew he was fishing. But she wanted him to catch her at the end of his line. She needed him to reel her in.

She leaned in close, her head bending to his neck, her breath traveling across his skin. He smelled so damn good, clean and masculine, his aftershave hinting at the scent of the forest. “Touching you.”

His hands shot out, gripping her upper arms. Tightly. “You like touching me?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Like? She f*cking loved it. She wanted her hands all over him. Wanted to explore him.

“So much.”

He exhaled hard. “One hour, you say?”

Her lips pressed against his neck, then she whispered softly, “Sixty whole minutes. Minus ten now, from the time we spent on the pool deck.” She said it like an invitation.

“Let’s get out of the hallway then.”

She nodded, reached for a key, and opened the door.





CHAPTER TEN


Bright lights assaulted him. Fluorescents shone starkly from the ceiling, revealing one wall lined with makeup counters, and four mirrors with exposed light bulbs framing each. He reached for the switch to dim the light to a normal illumination so he could be alone with her without retinas frying, when the wispy blonde from the shoot waved a hand.

Ah f*ck. That was a buzzkill. So much for the privacy of a room. His shoulders sagged. It was like being in college again, roommates crawling out of every nook and cranny, right when he’d been hoping to have his hands all over Annalise. His fingers itched to touch her.

“Hi, Annalise,” the blonde said, stretching her arms over her head, pushing them into a gray sweatshirt. She poked her head through the hole.

Annalise cleared her throat. “Hey, Candy. What are you up to?”

“Just going to do some yoga during our break.”

“Great plan. Good use of time. I need to grab my purse.” Annalise gestured to a beige couch littered with purses, bags, and jackets. “Then you can do your downward dog to your heart’s content.”

Candy waved a hand. “I’m meeting my yoga guru. In his room. He travels with me.”

“Oh,” Annalise said, seeming to rein in a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. “That’s smart. To have him travel with you.”

“Thank you! I better go. I only have a few minutes to clear my mind of dangerous toxins,” she said, then seemed to float on her own weightlessness to the door.

She left, and the door clicked shut with a satisfying thunk.

“A traveling yoga guru?” Michael asked dryly.

“Don’t you have one? I mean, really. How else could you travel?”

He held up his hands. “Can’t think of how I’d manage without one,” he said, then glanced around the room.

“It’s a good thing she had to leave to see him, though, don’t you think?” she said.

“It’s a f*cking great thing. Think anyone else will pop in?”

“It’s possible.” Annalise gave an indifferent shrug. “But that’s what chain locks are for.”

She dropped her camera bag to the carpeted floor and slid the lock into place. In a second he was behind her, dragging his nose along her exposed shoulder. “I like touching you, too. So f*cking much.”

“I like you touching me,” she whispered, facing the door, her fingers frozen on the lock.

He dragged his hands along her sides, traveling over the fabric of her tank top, along her waist, up her ribs to her breasts, then back down. With her hair pinned up, her neck was bare and inviting. He dipped his head to the soft, sweet flesh, inhaling her. She trembled, shudders racking her whole body. He kissed a path along her neck, up to her ear, then nipped her earlobe.

“Michael,” she said, all low and needy.

“Yes?”

She twisted to face him, looping her arms around his neck. “Last night was…intense.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, then nibbled on her lip.

A part of him knew there was so much to say. Words about time, and distance, and longing. Questions about her heart and her head, and how the f*ck she was doing after losing her husband. Practical matters, too, like how long was she in town. Would he see her again today? And did she miss him over all the years with the same kind of intensity he’d missed her?

His brain fought back, reminding him he was being ridiculous. He hadn’t missed her. He hadn’t thought about her. He hadn’t f*cking obsessed on her.