tossed back his head and laughed.
“That’s funny?”
“Yes.” He hugged her from behind, turning them so that she faced the bathroom mirror. She had a baby blue bra in one hand and sea green panties in her other. Her hair was its usual rioted, gorgeous mess, and her face . . . Good God, she had a face that reached out and slayed his heart. “You’re beautiful,” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “So goddamned beautiful, you take my breath away.”
She dropped the lingerie. Twisting in his arms until she faced him, she cupped his face. “You’re beautiful, too. I know you’re not supposed to tell a guy that, but it’s true. And I don’t mean just on the outside.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I ate all the cookies I made you, and I’m sorry I needed a ride home. You should go, I know you have a flight.”
Had a flight. “Are you sorry you chose me as your Mr. Wrong?”
“No.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Do you think it was a fluke? You know, how good it was between us?”
He arched a brow. “A fluke?”
“Yeah. Maybe . . . maybe we should do it again. Just to make sure, you know?”
Suddenly the blood was rushing from his head for parts south. He nodded, and in the interest of getting to the “again”—which hopefully would involve some of that hot as hell lingerie, he leaned in. He’d just touched his mouth to hers, body hot and hard and ready, when from down below, her doorbell rang.
The police had arrived.
“Maybe we can pretend we don’t hear them,” she whispered against his lips, all flushed and heated and sweet, sexy acquiescence in his arms.
He was all for that idea, but unfortunately the police weren’t going to be ignored. The doorbell rang again, and with a sigh, she backed out of his arms and headed out of the bathroom, the black garters sticking out of her pocket.
7
T he police took a report, but with nothing missing, nothing even out of place other than the broken lock, they didn’t seem too hopeful on getting Maggie answers anytime soon.
When they were gone, she settled back against the front door and eyed the big, bad, sexy man standing in the middle of her living room. “Thanks for staying,” she said, her hormones much more firmly in control now that he wasn’t touching her. “I’ll be fine.”
He came close. His hands settled on the wood on either side of her face as he leaned in. He smelled like her idea of heaven, and looked good enough to eat—better than even her cookies.
“Will you?” he murmured.
“Absolutely. Maybe you can still catch your flight.”
“That ship has sailed.” He was so close that his body heat seeped into her bones, so close that she could feel that there wasn’t an ounce of softness to him, anywhere. “Back to our other conversation. So, Maggie Bell, what other secrets are you hiding?” He tilted his head, letting the tip of his nose glide along her jawline.
Oh, God. What was she hiding? Nothing. Nothing at all. Well, except that she’d apparently renewed her huge crush . . .
He came in even closer, and opened his mouth on her earlobe, making her eyes cross with lust.
“D-did you know that Kansas state law requires pedestrians crossing the highways at night to wear taillights?” she stammered.
“I didn’t. But what I do want to know is, how come you’ve denied your body pleasure for two years?”
“ Nearly two years,” she corrected, and felt him smile against her skin. “And I haven’t completely denied myself. I have a showerhead.”
He laughed silkily and she bit her lip to keep any more ridiculous admissions from escaping, sucking in desperately needed air as he glided his mouth along her jaw to her throat. She was melting into a boneless puddle of longing when the doorbell rang again—making her nearly jump out of her skin. Pushing him aside, she ran down the stairs and opened the door to . . .
“Scott,” she said, in surprise. She heard Jacob come into the entryway and stop just on the
“That’s funny?”
“Yes.” He hugged her from behind, turning them so that she faced the bathroom mirror. She had a baby blue bra in one hand and sea green panties in her other. Her hair was its usual rioted, gorgeous mess, and her face . . . Good God, she had a face that reached out and slayed his heart. “You’re beautiful,” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “So goddamned beautiful, you take my breath away.”
She dropped the lingerie. Twisting in his arms until she faced him, she cupped his face. “You’re beautiful, too. I know you’re not supposed to tell a guy that, but it’s true. And I don’t mean just on the outside.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I ate all the cookies I made you, and I’m sorry I needed a ride home. You should go, I know you have a flight.”
Had a flight. “Are you sorry you chose me as your Mr. Wrong?”
“No.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Do you think it was a fluke? You know, how good it was between us?”
He arched a brow. “A fluke?”
“Yeah. Maybe . . . maybe we should do it again. Just to make sure, you know?”
Suddenly the blood was rushing from his head for parts south. He nodded, and in the interest of getting to the “again”—which hopefully would involve some of that hot as hell lingerie, he leaned in. He’d just touched his mouth to hers, body hot and hard and ready, when from down below, her doorbell rang.
The police had arrived.
“Maybe we can pretend we don’t hear them,” she whispered against his lips, all flushed and heated and sweet, sexy acquiescence in his arms.
He was all for that idea, but unfortunately the police weren’t going to be ignored. The doorbell rang again, and with a sigh, she backed out of his arms and headed out of the bathroom, the black garters sticking out of her pocket.
7
T he police took a report, but with nothing missing, nothing even out of place other than the broken lock, they didn’t seem too hopeful on getting Maggie answers anytime soon.
When they were gone, she settled back against the front door and eyed the big, bad, sexy man standing in the middle of her living room. “Thanks for staying,” she said, her hormones much more firmly in control now that he wasn’t touching her. “I’ll be fine.”
He came close. His hands settled on the wood on either side of her face as he leaned in. He smelled like her idea of heaven, and looked good enough to eat—better than even her cookies.
“Will you?” he murmured.
“Absolutely. Maybe you can still catch your flight.”
“That ship has sailed.” He was so close that his body heat seeped into her bones, so close that she could feel that there wasn’t an ounce of softness to him, anywhere. “Back to our other conversation. So, Maggie Bell, what other secrets are you hiding?” He tilted his head, letting the tip of his nose glide along her jawline.
Oh, God. What was she hiding? Nothing. Nothing at all. Well, except that she’d apparently renewed her huge crush . . .
He came in even closer, and opened his mouth on her earlobe, making her eyes cross with lust.
“D-did you know that Kansas state law requires pedestrians crossing the highways at night to wear taillights?” she stammered.
“I didn’t. But what I do want to know is, how come you’ve denied your body pleasure for two years?”
“ Nearly two years,” she corrected, and felt him smile against her skin. “And I haven’t completely denied myself. I have a showerhead.”
He laughed silkily and she bit her lip to keep any more ridiculous admissions from escaping, sucking in desperately needed air as he glided his mouth along her jaw to her throat. She was melting into a boneless puddle of longing when the doorbell rang again—making her nearly jump out of her skin. Pushing him aside, she ran down the stairs and opened the door to . . .
“Scott,” she said, in surprise. She heard Jacob come into the entryway and stop just on the
Similar Books
