Tough Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #2)(53)

Before I can respond, Rogan speaks up beside me. “Maybe tomorrow. She owes me a lunch and I’m collecting today.”

My insides beam with happiness and I try not to smile. “I guess that takes care of my lunch plans,” I tell Mona casually.

“I want to buy her a piece of pie,” he adds, a bit too softly. I want to look over at him, but I don’t. I’m afraid I’ll see something naughty in his eyes and I’ll get all flummoxed.

Her face splits in the world’s biggest smile and her eyes bounce back and forth between us. “Well, in that case, I’ll just make other arrangements. Maybe tomorrow,” she offers as she starts to back out of the room.

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it,” Rogan says, making Mona giggle delightedly.

“God, you two are too cute.” And then she’s gone, her excited squeal trailing behind her.

Rogan waits for a few seconds and then walks to the door. He closes and leans against it. His eyes meet mine and electricity lights up my stomach. I know perfectly well that if we were any number of other places, he’d start undressing me. And I’d let him.

He holds my gaze as he walks his sexy walk back toward me, not stopping until his hands are gripping the counter on either side of me and his face is about two inches from mine.

“What are you thinking?” he asks in his low, velvety bedroom voice.

I can’t think past honesty. “That you make my stomach feel like the fourth of July.”

He grins and laughs, an evil, satisfied laugh. Moisture rushes into my panties. God, this man!

“What are you thinking?”

“That I didn’t realize how hard this is gonna be,” he admits.

“How hard what’s going to be?” I play dumb, but I know exactly what he means. I just want to hear him say it.

“Seeing you, being so close to you yet not being able to touch you.” As he speaks, he leans in to rub his cheek against mine, his lips brushing my ear and causing chills to spread down my arm.

I clear my throat and swallow so that I can speak through the desert sand that has filled my mouth. “Well, you’ll just have to make do, won’t you?”

“Mmmm,” he responds noncommittally as he presses his lips to the space beneath my ear and then drags them down the side of my throat to nip my collarbone with his blunt teeth. “Or maybe I’ll just have to think of something else.”

“Like what?” My voice is already breathless.

“Like where I can find you alone, for just a few minutes, so I can reach up under your skirt and find out if your panties are wet.”

Before I can think to reply, Rogan reaches up under the knee-length edge of my skirt and slides his hand up between my legs, cupping my damp skin through my underwear.

“Oh shit, that’s hot,” he moans just before he covers my mouth with his own.

His kiss is meant to incinerate. And it does. My limbs burn with the need to wrap themselves around him, to hold him close as he buries his body inside mine. My back arches, an unconscious admission of my inner turmoil.

All of a sudden, Rogan backs away. My eyelids flutter open reluctantly and I focus on his handsome, passion-filled face. He looks flustered.

“Damn,” he breathes, running a hand through his short, sandy hair. “Just . . . damn.”

I grin. I can’t help it. This big, gorgeous man wants me. Me. The shy one. The short one. The dark one. The scarred one. In a sea of tall, thin, beautiful people, he wants me. I might never get over that. This is the land of make-believe, though. Within the walls of this studio, the unlikely happens every day. On film. So maybe, just maybe, it can happen for me, too.

Rogan reaches down to smooth my skirt. It’s such a sweet, familiar . . . intimate gesture, my heart gives a great heave of contentedness, like a sigh. “So, I guess you gathered that I’m taking you to lunch today. Do you think you’ll have time to come and watch me film?”

I want to. God, how I want to! “Probably not this morning. Mornings are always busier because everyone has to be in makeup. But maybe this afternoon. If there aren’t a lot of touch-ups and specialties . . .”

He grins, that sexy, lopsided one I love. “Then I’ll look for you.”

“Are you sure you won’t be too . . . distracted?” I ask, running my finger along the placket of my shirt and looking up at him from beneath my lashes. I feel gratified when I hear the air hiss through his gritted teeth. It’s been a long time since I felt the power of my sexuality, my femininity. It’s hard to feel feminine and beautiful and powerful when you’re hiding such ugliness. But somehow, Rogan makes me feel beautiful. Almost like my scars didn’t happen. Almost.

“You’re evil,” he says softly.

I laugh as I straighten, tipping my head toward the makeup chair. “Have a seat, Mr. Rogan. If I don’t hurry up and do you, I’ll be running late all day.”

I hear a low growl coming from behind me as Rogan takes his seat. “You’re really gonna have to watch what you say.”

And so begins the light, teasing, flirtatious tone of the day. And I’ve never been happier.





TWENTY-FOUR


Rogan

It isn’t exactly easy to concentrate, but considering the kinds of scenes I’m taping for the next few days, thinking of Katie keeps me in the right frame of mind for them. I only wish that it was her lips I was kissing, her body I was smashing up against mine.