Skintight by Susan Andersen Page A

remind himself several times that he wasn’t there to have a good time. He’d redoubled his efforts after each reminder, but no matter how slickly he’d maneuvered the conversation, she hadn’t extended an invitation to her place.
    He had to work to keep his voice light when they arrived at her car. “This is for the birds,” he said, when she’d opened the driver’s door and turned to look up at him. “I don’t like dropping you off in a big, empty parking garage. The next time we go out, I’m picking you up and delivering you back to your door.”
    She raised an eyebrow at him. “Assuming there is a next time, of course.”
    â€œOh, there will be.” He shot her a cocky smile. “You dig me. Admit it. You really dig me.”
    She gave him a cool-eyed up-and-down. Then she caved and flashed him a wide white smile. “I might dig you a little.”
    â€œNo, you dig me a lot.” He took a step forward, crowding her. “The way I dig you.” The latter was a little too close to the truth for comfort, and he lowered his head purposefully. This seduction would come off the way it was intended, dammit—with one-sided precision, uncluttered by messy emotions.
    He congratulated himself for kissing her exactly that way, with cool, calculated expertise. Plunging his fingers through her soft hair, he held her in place and treated her to a sample of his best work.
    The only problem was, she treated him right back to some damn fine work of her own. Her lips were soft and supple and they clung to his. Then they parted beneath the press of his kiss, and when he took her up on her invitation and slid his tongue across her teeth and into her mouth, he discovered flavors that were dark and addictive. When she moaned, the sound seemed to have a direct line to his cock, and he pressed closer. Her legs parted as much as her snug little dress would allow, andhe pressed his pelvis forward to fit his erection against the warm, sweet notch between her thighs. But it simply wasn’t possible to get close enough.
    Her hands slid up his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, and those enticing breasts that had been provoking him all night long flattened against his chest. He groaned, finding himself suddenly unable to breathe.
    He ripped his mouth free. “God,” he said, his chest heaving. He pulled her away from the open car door, slammed it shut and, wrapping his hands around her hips, hoisted her up onto the hood. Bunching the material of her skirt between his fingers, he eased it up around her waist, glancing in admiration at the skimpy scrap of lace he exposed for the second it took to knee her legs apart. “You. Are. So. Hot, ” he growled. Then he stepped into the space he’d made for himself, plunged his fingers back into her curls and slammed his mouth over hers once again.
    He couldn’t get enough. Not of her taste, nor the elusive scent that wafted off her skin, nor the firm, warm feel of her in his arms. Holding her in place and oscillating his hips, he just about came unglued when the sweet mound he rocked against became damper and damper against his fly. He raised his head, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs, and stared down at her.
    Her eyes were slumberous, the sexily shadowed lids heavy as she stared back at him, the clear honey color of her irises nearly swallowed up by her dilated pupils. Her lips were red and swollen from the pressure of his kisses, and as he watched she smiled lazily and slicked her tongue over the full bottom curve. He lowered his head to bite at the damp, plump lip.
    â€œOoh.” Treena’s head dropped back.
    He sucked her lip, then let it go and kissed the corner of her mouth, the angle of her jaw, and then just beneath it. Kissing his way down her long, smooth throat, he smoothed his hand along her neck as he moved to her creamy chest and pressed his parted lips into her shallow cleavage.