have sex until
we've gotten over it?"
"Yes."
"And you're going to stop
investigating my background while we're involved."
"I'll shift my investigations to
your body," he said, his gaze running hungrily over her. Then he met her
eyes again. "But no lying to me."
"I don't lie." She saw the
disbelief in his expression, but she shrugged it off. She didn't lie—she
just didn't disclose all the truth. "And this arrangement is temporary,
lasting until we stop seeing each other?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "That seems like a
fair agreement."
He studied her. "You don't seem
upset by the temporary nature of this."
"It always works that way."
She shrugged. "I get bored eventually. It's good to know that you're the
same way. It saves on the drama when it's over."
His gaze narrowed, but he didn't say
anything for a long time. Finally he asked, "So we've come to terms?"
Needing to ground herself, she lifted
her chin. "I feel I should just reiterate that you irritate me."
"Good, because you irritate me
too." He lowered his mouth to hers and gave her a kiss that went a long
way toward melting her bones, just like he promised.
She was breathless and aching when he
eventually came up for air. "This couch is very comfortable."
"Thank you," she replied
politely, rubbing herself against him.
"It'd probably be more comfortable
if we were wearing fewer clothes."
"Okay." She folded her arms
behind her head and nodded. "Go ahead."
Rick arched an eyebrow. But then he
sat up and stripped off his leather jacket, tossing it aside. His shirt
followed, leaving his chest bare.
She licked her lips. He was defined,
lean and sinewy. She wanted to run her hands along the muscles, but she kept
her hands where they were, lowering her gaze to the thin arrow of hair that led
to the waistband of his jeans.
He put a hand on his belt and slowly
pulled it from the loops, letting it drop to the floor. He unzipped them, and
where they gaped open she could see dark underwear and the hard ridge of his
erection pushing against the fabric.
She licked her lips. "Are you
stopping?"
"Pausing." He sat back on
his heels, giving her space. "It's your turn."
She sat up eagerly. She shrugged out
of her sweater, threw it aside, and wrestled out of the shirt she had on underneath.
Leaving her camisole on, she moved on to her socks.
By the way he'd looked at her in her
swimsuit, he liked her body, so she let him get his fill of her in that lacy
camisole. Then she reached for the hem and pulled it over her head.
"You're not wearing a bra,"
he said, sounding strangled.
"You're so astute. Your
detective classes have really paid off."
"No classes. I learned from my
dad."
She looked at him, curious.
"Your father is a private investigator too?"
"And his father before that. It
runs in the family."
"Interesting." Greed ran in
her family. And selfishness. Fortunately, she'd managed to escape without
either trait.
He tugged on the waistband of her
pants. "Take these off too."
She wiggled out of her pants, adding
it to the pile of their clothes. She heard him swallow audibly. Hiding a
satisfied smile, she leaned back and let him look his fill.
"You don't wear underwear at
all?" he finally said, still not touching her.
The desire burning in his eyes
excited her. This waiting was part of the game he wanted to play, and she was
fine with that. It felt thrilling, and she wanted to revel in it. "Not
usually. Now that Olivia and I are friends, I do sometimes. She's always giving
us lingerie from her store."
"Please." He closed his
eyes. "I'm already on sensory overload. I don't think I'll make it if I
start picturing that."
She grinned. "I have this
fabulous red lace—"
Covering her, he stole the words from
her mouth with his lips.
The slide of his body against hers
was luscious. She moaned as he surrounded her and filled all her senses.
Wanting more, she touched him all over, feeling his muscles tensed, poised to
pounce. She hooked her legs over his and held him as close
we've gotten over it?"
"Yes."
"And you're going to stop
investigating my background while we're involved."
"I'll shift my investigations to
your body," he said, his gaze running hungrily over her. Then he met her
eyes again. "But no lying to me."
"I don't lie." She saw the
disbelief in his expression, but she shrugged it off. She didn't lie—she
just didn't disclose all the truth. "And this arrangement is temporary,
lasting until we stop seeing each other?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "That seems like a
fair agreement."
He studied her. "You don't seem
upset by the temporary nature of this."
"It always works that way."
She shrugged. "I get bored eventually. It's good to know that you're the
same way. It saves on the drama when it's over."
His gaze narrowed, but he didn't say
anything for a long time. Finally he asked, "So we've come to terms?"
Needing to ground herself, she lifted
her chin. "I feel I should just reiterate that you irritate me."
"Good, because you irritate me
too." He lowered his mouth to hers and gave her a kiss that went a long
way toward melting her bones, just like he promised.
She was breathless and aching when he
eventually came up for air. "This couch is very comfortable."
"Thank you," she replied
politely, rubbing herself against him.
"It'd probably be more comfortable
if we were wearing fewer clothes."
"Okay." She folded her arms
behind her head and nodded. "Go ahead."
Rick arched an eyebrow. But then he
sat up and stripped off his leather jacket, tossing it aside. His shirt
followed, leaving his chest bare.
She licked her lips. He was defined,
lean and sinewy. She wanted to run her hands along the muscles, but she kept
her hands where they were, lowering her gaze to the thin arrow of hair that led
to the waistband of his jeans.
He put a hand on his belt and slowly
pulled it from the loops, letting it drop to the floor. He unzipped them, and
where they gaped open she could see dark underwear and the hard ridge of his
erection pushing against the fabric.
She licked her lips. "Are you
stopping?"
"Pausing." He sat back on
his heels, giving her space. "It's your turn."
She sat up eagerly. She shrugged out
of her sweater, threw it aside, and wrestled out of the shirt she had on underneath.
Leaving her camisole on, she moved on to her socks.
By the way he'd looked at her in her
swimsuit, he liked her body, so she let him get his fill of her in that lacy
camisole. Then she reached for the hem and pulled it over her head.
"You're not wearing a bra,"
he said, sounding strangled.
"You're so astute. Your
detective classes have really paid off."
"No classes. I learned from my
dad."
She looked at him, curious.
"Your father is a private investigator too?"
"And his father before that. It
runs in the family."
"Interesting." Greed ran in
her family. And selfishness. Fortunately, she'd managed to escape without
either trait.
He tugged on the waistband of her
pants. "Take these off too."
She wiggled out of her pants, adding
it to the pile of their clothes. She heard him swallow audibly. Hiding a
satisfied smile, she leaned back and let him look his fill.
"You don't wear underwear at
all?" he finally said, still not touching her.
The desire burning in his eyes
excited her. This waiting was part of the game he wanted to play, and she was
fine with that. It felt thrilling, and she wanted to revel in it. "Not
usually. Now that Olivia and I are friends, I do sometimes. She's always giving
us lingerie from her store."
"Please." He closed his
eyes. "I'm already on sensory overload. I don't think I'll make it if I
start picturing that."
She grinned. "I have this
fabulous red lace—"
Covering her, he stole the words from
her mouth with his lips.
The slide of his body against hers
was luscious. She moaned as he surrounded her and filled all her senses.
Wanting more, she touched him all over, feeling his muscles tensed, poised to
pounce. She hooked her legs over his and held him as close
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