sign of interest.
“Yes,”
she managed to say, her voice sticking in her throat.
“What
did you need? I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“I
didn’t.” She suddenly felt absolutely stupid. She’d only ever dated very
outgoing, assertive men who weren’t intimidated by her quietness or her father,
so they’d always made the initial moves. She’d never been in this situation
before, and she wondered how other women managed to pull it off without feeling
like a fool.
Of
course, she also wondered how women managed to be the center of attention
without trying—talking to people easily and naturally—so there were clearly a
lot of social interactions she just wasn’t cut out for.
Having
absolutely no idea what to say, she went to sit down on the couch. Michael sat
back down beside her.
His
eyes searched her face. “I thought you might need to be alone, after today.”
She
normally would have wanted to be alone. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into
her tonight, and she was starting to think her spontaneous decision had been a
big mistake. Since she’d trapped herself by coming out here, though, she
managed to say, “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Are
you nervous about the stalker?” He was still peering at her as if he were
trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. “If it would make you feel
safer, you can stay out here with me.”
She
nodded, since at least that got closer to what she wanted.
“You’ll
get too cold wearing that. Run put something else on.”
She
glanced down at her little gown and saw that her nipples had tightened—from the
cold or something else—and their outline was clearly visible through the light
fabric. “I don’t want to put anything else on.”
She
should have been able to make the statement sound sexier than she had. She was
a total flop at being seductive.
“Claire,”
Michael began, his voice taking on that thick tone she remembered from earlier.
“I know you have the right to wear whatever you want. But your looking like
that makes it very difficult for me, so I’d appreciate it if you could cover up
a little more.”
She
stared at him, suddenly hopeful. And now she saw what she’d been too nervous to
notice before—a certain tension in his jaw and shoulders and a delicious
smolder in his eyes that he was dutifully trying to hide. “I didn’t think…I
didn’t think you even noticed how I looked.”
He
focused down at the tablet he’d set on the coffee table when she’d entered the
room. She could tell he was now trying to keep his eyes from slipping over to
her body. “You were wrong.”
She
was breathless with something other than nerves. She leaned closer and put a
hand on his chest, the way she had before in the car—when she’d thought he might
kiss her. “Well, since you brought it up, your looking like that makes
it very difficult for me.”
He
turned his head toward her with a jerk, and she saw his attempt to rein in his
desire was failing. “My looking like what?”
“Looking
like…like Michael.” She slid her hand up his chest, raising it to his face. She
stroked the rough skin of his jaw.
“Claire,”
he breathed, almost shaking with the visible effort it took to hold himself
back. “You should go back to your room.”
“I
don’t want to go back to my room.” She pulled her legs up beneath her so she
could get in a better position. Then she leaned forward until her lips were
just an inch from his. “I want to stay here with you.”
With
a rough groan, he pulled her into his arms and into a hungry kiss.
Her
body thrilled with pleasure as his arms tightened around her and his mouth
moved against hers with hard urgency. She tangled her fingers in his thick hair
and opened her mouth to the teasing of his tongue.
Trying
to get closer to him, to feel his big, hard body more fully, she straddled his
lap as the kiss deepened even more. Her body now pulsing with growing arousal,
she pressed her breasts against his
“Yes,”
she managed to say, her voice sticking in her throat.
“What
did you need? I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“I
didn’t.” She suddenly felt absolutely stupid. She’d only ever dated very
outgoing, assertive men who weren’t intimidated by her quietness or her father,
so they’d always made the initial moves. She’d never been in this situation
before, and she wondered how other women managed to pull it off without feeling
like a fool.
Of
course, she also wondered how women managed to be the center of attention
without trying—talking to people easily and naturally—so there were clearly a
lot of social interactions she just wasn’t cut out for.
Having
absolutely no idea what to say, she went to sit down on the couch. Michael sat
back down beside her.
His
eyes searched her face. “I thought you might need to be alone, after today.”
She
normally would have wanted to be alone. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into
her tonight, and she was starting to think her spontaneous decision had been a
big mistake. Since she’d trapped herself by coming out here, though, she
managed to say, “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Are
you nervous about the stalker?” He was still peering at her as if he were
trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. “If it would make you feel
safer, you can stay out here with me.”
She
nodded, since at least that got closer to what she wanted.
“You’ll
get too cold wearing that. Run put something else on.”
She
glanced down at her little gown and saw that her nipples had tightened—from the
cold or something else—and their outline was clearly visible through the light
fabric. “I don’t want to put anything else on.”
She
should have been able to make the statement sound sexier than she had. She was
a total flop at being seductive.
“Claire,”
Michael began, his voice taking on that thick tone she remembered from earlier.
“I know you have the right to wear whatever you want. But your looking like
that makes it very difficult for me, so I’d appreciate it if you could cover up
a little more.”
She
stared at him, suddenly hopeful. And now she saw what she’d been too nervous to
notice before—a certain tension in his jaw and shoulders and a delicious
smolder in his eyes that he was dutifully trying to hide. “I didn’t think…I
didn’t think you even noticed how I looked.”
He
focused down at the tablet he’d set on the coffee table when she’d entered the
room. She could tell he was now trying to keep his eyes from slipping over to
her body. “You were wrong.”
She
was breathless with something other than nerves. She leaned closer and put a
hand on his chest, the way she had before in the car—when she’d thought he might
kiss her. “Well, since you brought it up, your looking like that makes
it very difficult for me.”
He
turned his head toward her with a jerk, and she saw his attempt to rein in his
desire was failing. “My looking like what?”
“Looking
like…like Michael.” She slid her hand up his chest, raising it to his face. She
stroked the rough skin of his jaw.
“Claire,”
he breathed, almost shaking with the visible effort it took to hold himself
back. “You should go back to your room.”
“I
don’t want to go back to my room.” She pulled her legs up beneath her so she
could get in a better position. Then she leaned forward until her lips were
just an inch from his. “I want to stay here with you.”
With
a rough groan, he pulled her into his arms and into a hungry kiss.
Her
body thrilled with pleasure as his arms tightened around her and his mouth
moved against hers with hard urgency. She tangled her fingers in his thick hair
and opened her mouth to the teasing of his tongue.
Trying
to get closer to him, to feel his big, hard body more fully, she straddled his
lap as the kiss deepened even more. Her body now pulsing with growing arousal,
she pressed her breasts against his
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