Playing the Playboy by Noelle Adams Page A

psychoanalyst to figure out why.
    She was horny. She wanted to screw Andrew. She couldn’t remember ever being as intensely attracted to a man, and their kiss on the beach had only revved her up.
    She kept remembering the kiss, how her body had responded. Then she imagined they hadn’t stopped—that they’d kept at it, tearing off each other’s clothes and having sex on the beach.
    It certainly would have been uncomfortable, since the beach was so rocky, and the dogs might have been confused. But she pushed aside such irrelevant details and imagined coming hard in his arms.
    She’d really gotten into the fantasy, aroused before she realized it, when she sensed something to her left and opened her eyes to see Andrew standing near the blue gate leading onto the pool deck.
    He wore nothing but black swim trunks. He held a towel and stared at her like he wanted to devour her.
    They held the stare for a few seconds too long—so long that Laurel shifted her hips, more aroused than was entirely comfortable. Andrew’s mouth quirked irrepressibly. “You’re wearing a top this evening.”
    She couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never expected him to be so dryly clever. “Thought I better be on the safe side.”
    “I’m disappointed.” He didn’t look disappointed. He looked like a fire had ignited in his eyes, and it was about to consume her.
    It wasn’t smart. At all. But she was only human. She’d regret it forever if she didn’t give in to this temptation. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t interfere with any decisions she would make about the inn. Her decisions were logical, organized, focused—entirely separate from this wild heat. “You can take it off, if you want.”
    She saw him take a quick breath and then take a few steps closer. He somehow seemed bigger than she knew him to be—too much broad shoulders and tight abdomen and lean hips and strong legs. He was all tension and physicality, and there was a fine line of dark hair that tapered down irresistibly to disappear under his waistband.
    “Are you sure?” he asked.
    “Yeah,” she breathed, “I’m sure.”
    He moved forward and she reached up, and he was suddenly on top of her, heavy and so much warmer than the evening air. He kissed her, and she responded eagerly, opening for his tongue and wrapping her arms around him.
    They kissed for a long time, until there was a roaring in her ears and she was rocking up into his weight. Then he finally pulled his mouth away and stared down, something possessive, almost primal in his expression.
    She cupped his jaw with one hand, rubbing her palm against the one-day’s growth of beard. “I was hoping you’d come up,” she admitted, the bristles against her palm doing startling things to her body.
    His hot expression transformed to a grin as he lowered his head to kiss a line along her jaw and then down her neck. “I was hoping you wouldn’t throw me out,” he admitted, mouthing the pulse in her throat.
    She wriggled beneath him, so turned on she couldn’t stay still. “I thought you were going to take off my top.”
    “Right.” There was a smile in his voice as he gave a quick nip to a sensitive hollow above her collarbone. Then he reached around her body to undo the clasp of her bikini and pulled it away from her skin.
    Laurel was briefly self-conscious as he stared down at her, the way she’d been the evening before when he’d caught her topless. Not because he was looking at her body but because of the intense look in his eyes as he did so.
    He lowered his head and traced the curve of one breast with his mouth. She arched up into it, releasing a ragged sigh when he took her nipple between his lips. He stroked her free breast with his other hand, teasing her until she was on the brink of crying out and then lowering his palm to stroke her stomach and thighs.
    She dragged him back up into a deep kiss, instinctively wrapping her legs around his hips. He grunted when she pressed into his erection