it.”
She opened her mouth to refute him and stopped herself. He was probably right--there was nothing clinical about it when he was involved.
Damn straight, her muse replied.
“In fact”--he squinted one eye heavenward as though in thought--“I can’t think of a single time when I’ve had a problem with pleasure and it sure as hell didn’t require forty-seven positions to achieve it.”
Oh dear, oh dear.
She might have squirmed a bit beneath her afghan as she looked away and polished off her wine. “I’m sure.” She wasn’t sure if she said that or if her muse had taken over her vocal chords. She felt his hand on her calf.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Glad for the blanket covering her legs, she shifted to pull it away, but he held it in place.
“What does what mean?” She pretended she hadn’t spoken loud enough for him to hear. Big mistake. The man had radar hearing. “Okay, I was just agreeing with you. No big deal. I’m sure your prowess with women—which, I’d guess is quite extensive—is just fine.”
“Fine?”
“Adequate?”
He sat back and stared at her. “Sweetheart, it might be amazing, spectacular, even, and I’m quoting here… ‘you rocked my world.’ But adequate?” He gave her a disapproving look. “I don’t think so.”
A long silence stretched between them. She was not immune to the tension, though her brain cautioned that this was Zack. She barely knew him. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she liked him very much. But he was sex-on-a-stick and those stormy gray-green eyes combined with a body made for…yeah, well, there was that.
“I think it’s time I turned in,” she managed in a whisper. Parts of her came alert at the suggestion. Her muse went crazy. Great idea! Should she be having tingles there?
The quirk of his mouth caused those parts to shiver with anticipation. He leaned closer, sinking into the heat glittering in his eyes as he draped his arm over the back of the couch.
“I’m open to research.”
She’d used the words a dozen times in her writing and not before now had she ever experienced a real swoon. She clutched the afghan to her stomach, her mouth gone dry as he inched his way toward her. “Zack.” Her eyes dropped to that tempting mouth.
“Kacey,” he responded just before his lips met—no, captured--hers.
Her brain screamed no, but the rest of her body succumbed to the pleasure of his body pressing against hers. He moved away, long enough to stroke his knuckles down her cheek and then he was kissing her again, seductive and slow, sucking nearly every remaining brain cell, save one…
The racket outside registered slowly in the sex-filled haze of her mind. It sounded as though something had fallen over on the patio. Perhaps it was only the wind. Before she could speculate, Zack had pulled out his gun, doused the light, and rolled her to the floor, covering her body with his.
“Stay here,” his hot breath whispered near her ear.
“Hell of a seductive move,” she muttered. She waited, her heart pounding, anticipating his large hands exploring every inch, his mouth following suit. Disappointed, she felt his weight lift from hers, a chill brushing over her body. She strained to hear any familiar sounds, afraid to move lest Zack mistake her for an intruder in the inky blackness. At the same time, she was afraid of…well, an intruder. What if something happened to Zack? How would she defend herself? “Zack?” she managed to squeak out in a hoarse whisper.
No answer came and her fear escalated. She crawled onto the couch, carefully staying low, and peered out the picture window. She sucked in her breath at the sight of a silhouette creeping across the lawn. She took a deep, fortifying breath and realized she couldn’t just sit there. She had to do something. Kacey cleared her throat and called out again with a little more bravado. “Mr. Elliot?”
Slithering off the couch, she crawled on hands and knees toward the patio
She opened her mouth to refute him and stopped herself. He was probably right--there was nothing clinical about it when he was involved.
Damn straight, her muse replied.
“In fact”--he squinted one eye heavenward as though in thought--“I can’t think of a single time when I’ve had a problem with pleasure and it sure as hell didn’t require forty-seven positions to achieve it.”
Oh dear, oh dear.
She might have squirmed a bit beneath her afghan as she looked away and polished off her wine. “I’m sure.” She wasn’t sure if she said that or if her muse had taken over her vocal chords. She felt his hand on her calf.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Glad for the blanket covering her legs, she shifted to pull it away, but he held it in place.
“What does what mean?” She pretended she hadn’t spoken loud enough for him to hear. Big mistake. The man had radar hearing. “Okay, I was just agreeing with you. No big deal. I’m sure your prowess with women—which, I’d guess is quite extensive—is just fine.”
“Fine?”
“Adequate?”
He sat back and stared at her. “Sweetheart, it might be amazing, spectacular, even, and I’m quoting here… ‘you rocked my world.’ But adequate?” He gave her a disapproving look. “I don’t think so.”
A long silence stretched between them. She was not immune to the tension, though her brain cautioned that this was Zack. She barely knew him. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she liked him very much. But he was sex-on-a-stick and those stormy gray-green eyes combined with a body made for…yeah, well, there was that.
“I think it’s time I turned in,” she managed in a whisper. Parts of her came alert at the suggestion. Her muse went crazy. Great idea! Should she be having tingles there?
The quirk of his mouth caused those parts to shiver with anticipation. He leaned closer, sinking into the heat glittering in his eyes as he draped his arm over the back of the couch.
“I’m open to research.”
She’d used the words a dozen times in her writing and not before now had she ever experienced a real swoon. She clutched the afghan to her stomach, her mouth gone dry as he inched his way toward her. “Zack.” Her eyes dropped to that tempting mouth.
“Kacey,” he responded just before his lips met—no, captured--hers.
Her brain screamed no, but the rest of her body succumbed to the pleasure of his body pressing against hers. He moved away, long enough to stroke his knuckles down her cheek and then he was kissing her again, seductive and slow, sucking nearly every remaining brain cell, save one…
The racket outside registered slowly in the sex-filled haze of her mind. It sounded as though something had fallen over on the patio. Perhaps it was only the wind. Before she could speculate, Zack had pulled out his gun, doused the light, and rolled her to the floor, covering her body with his.
“Stay here,” his hot breath whispered near her ear.
“Hell of a seductive move,” she muttered. She waited, her heart pounding, anticipating his large hands exploring every inch, his mouth following suit. Disappointed, she felt his weight lift from hers, a chill brushing over her body. She strained to hear any familiar sounds, afraid to move lest Zack mistake her for an intruder in the inky blackness. At the same time, she was afraid of…well, an intruder. What if something happened to Zack? How would she defend herself? “Zack?” she managed to squeak out in a hoarse whisper.
No answer came and her fear escalated. She crawled onto the couch, carefully staying low, and peered out the picture window. She sucked in her breath at the sight of a silhouette creeping across the lawn. She took a deep, fortifying breath and realized she couldn’t just sit there. She had to do something. Kacey cleared her throat and called out again with a little more bravado. “Mr. Elliot?”
Slithering off the couch, she crawled on hands and knees toward the patio
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