Operation Foreplay by Christine Hughes Page A

the seat next to me. “I’m going to touch you and I would like to see if you can resist. Prove to me that you don’t want to put your hands all over me.”
    “Zac—”
    “If you can resist, then I’ll leave you alone. If you can’t, well then, let’s hope this table is sturdy.” He pushed on the top of the table.
    Again with the smirk. Without his even me touching me, my skin tingled and I felt warm. The familiarity of his presence sent my groin into overdrive. I was already wet, an automatic reaction to what I knew he could accomplish with the mouth that held that sexy smirk in place.
    As much as I told myself I didn’t want him, I knew I did. And I knew what was about to happen. I wouldn’t fight it because I didn’t want to.
    While running his fingers along the top of my hand he asked, “Is this okay?”
    I could only nod.
    Reaching under the table, he grabbed my leg and lifted my foot into his lap.
    “New shoes?”
    “No.”
    “Should we keep them on?”
    “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
    He took off the shoe and tossed it aside before kneading his thumbs into the ball of my foot.
    My head fell back but I quickly righted it and plastered what I hoped was a stoic, uninterested look on my face. In truth, I was about five minutes from my “O” face. With Zac it was only a matter of time. Never an if, always a when.
    His hands slowly moved up my calf, slowly kneading the muscles that were suddenly very tense. He bit his lower lip when I let out a small moan. He knew he was getting to me.
    Damn him.
    Damn me.
    Jesus, someone open a window .
    Still, I kept my hands to myself. But I was wavering. Zachary Waterman may just very well have been my kryptonite.
    “Your skin is so soft. Do you like this? The way I am touching you?” His voice was barely a whisper.
    “It’s, it’s…fine.”
    “Fine? Fine won’t do.” He slid his hands up my skirt and massaged my thigh. “Is this fine ?”
    I said nothing but closed my eyes and let out a long breath.
    I knew he could feel the moisture between my legs. I knew he knew I was ready and wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. By the strain in the fabric of his pants, he was more than ready. But still he continued along with his game by quickly removing his hands from under my skirt and standing behind me. He wrapped my hair in his hand and gently tugged before whispering in my ear, “Are you still just fine ?”
    “Zachary, we can’t do this.”
    He let go of my hair, spun my chair around, and knelt down to my eye level. “We can.”
    “But you’re marr—”
    He placed his fingers on my lips. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away. I won’t want to but I’ll do it because you want me to. Jesus, Mel. I’m falling in love with you. You can’t see that?”
    “You’re what?” My lips were still pressed on his finger.
    “You heard me. Now tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away, no strings.” He leaned back on his heels.
    My heart beat so hard I could swear it was the only sound I could hear. He loved me?
    I always said I didn’t want to be a relationship girl.
    I always said I wasn’t girlfriend material.
    I always said I didn’t want to be bothered.
    I always lied.
    I couldn’t respond with words. Instead, I leaned forward and began unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t make a move to stop me, help me. He just sat back on his heels, eyes locked with mine. He was waiting for me to say the words back. Words I’d never said before. Words that had me running for the hills whenever they were uttered in my direction. Words that scared the living shit out of me. And he wanted me to say them.
    Instead, I pushed my hands into his open shirt, feeling the tight muscles of his chest before slowly removing the shirt from his broad shoulders.
    “Melody.” He grabbed my hands and held them together in my lap, his eyes searching mine.
    “Touch me.” I finally said before leaning in and nipping his bottom lip between my