Private Dancer by Suzanne Forster Page B

away.
    “That’s a serious gap in your education. Lace.”
    Before she could think of an argument, he’d picked her up by the waist and set her on the countertop. The chill from the tile penetrated the fabric of her slacks, and she reacted as though it were some kind of warning. She locked her legs together, shielding her breasts with her crossed arms.
    “I’ve always thought the kitchen was the sexiest room in the house,” he said, ignoring her defensive posture. “There’s something basic and earthy about all the food, the stove, the sink ... the water .”
    He reached around her and turned on the faucet, letting warm water bubble, trickle and run in a slow stream. Bev felt her stomach turning to liquid as she listened to it. Did he know she couldn’t resist running water? She closed her eyes, trying to ward off the answering warmth that was stirring inside her. “You’re not playing fair,” she complained faintly.
    “I’m not playing.”
    He ran his thumb nail slowly down the outside seam of her slacks. Bev felt her skin heat and blood race to the surface. A thrill of anticipation shot through her.
    “Open your legs for me, babe,” he said softly. “I want to get close.”
    Even the thought of opening her legs touched off an aching tightness in Bev’s thighs. She could hardly move for the sudden, debilitating effect it had on her muscles. It was crazy what he did to her. He put her in a trancelike state every time he got near her. Her mind went into neutral and her body went into fifth gear. She was all raw nerves and stripped-down senses, vibrantly tuned in to her surroundings on some primal level. She could feel his hand resting near her knee, she could smell the crisp tang of lemon and hear the warm tap water running slowly, whirlpooling in the sink before it gushed down the drain.
    He covered her knee with a hand large enough to completely engulf it. “What’s it going to be, Lace? Are you going to unlock these beautiful legs anytime soon? Or are you waiting for me to do it?”
    “ No ,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes and push his hand away. “Nobody’s unlocking these legs.” The effort it took to resist him drained every last bit of strength right out of her. His features were so mesmerizingly dark, so demonically handsome, she couldn’t have rallied the energy to hold him off again if she’d wanted to. She half expected him to pry her legs open himself and have his way with her right there in her kitchen. And maybe she half wanted him to! She didn’t know what she wanted anymore, or even what she should want. Her thoughts were scattered and confused and she was shaking with excitement. All the fight had gone out of her. Surely he could see what he was doing to her?
    Whether he could see it or not, Sam didn’t act on it.
    He shifted back, his hands still on her knees, and stared at her with powder-blue eyes that said he didn’t know what the hell to make of women in general, this one in particular.
    “You want it too, don’t you?” His voice was as rough as sandpaper, the same whiskey rasp she remembered from their first meeting in the bar.
    “I don’t know,” she said, completely sincere. She lifted a trembling hand to her throat. “Look at me, I’m shaking, I can hardly breathe. Maybe you should take me to a hospital.”
    “There are places I’d like to take you, babe, but a hospital’s not one of them. Come here,” he said, reaching for her.
    Bev’s arms shot up to stop him, but the rest of her body betrayed her. Her legs went tingly and weak as he hooked her by the back of the knees and brought her forward. She watched helplessly, knowing what was about to happen. A soft moan caught in her throat as he pressed into the V of her thighs and her legs opened automatically to accommodate him.
    Cool air burned her warm, damp skin, and the sudden intimacy of the situation sent a shock of desire through her. She wanted desperately to slow him down, to regain some