just because her body had ripened to perfection. There was something whole about her, confident and sure. As if sheâd grown into someone she liked very much. He couldnât remember ever thinking that about a woman, and he couldnât even give any particulars as to what had brought on the impression. The way she dressed, the way she held herself. Who cared? It was just hot as hell.
She stopped three rooms before his and pulled out her key card. It took her two tries to get the green light, but once she did, she flung the door open and dragged him in behind her.
Before she let him go, she kicked the door shut, then shoved him against the wall. He barely had timeto grin before her hands were on his shoulders and her lips were crushing his.
His eyes closed as her tongue thrust into his mouth. It was her show, and he wasnât about to interfere. Not when she made full body contact, rubbing against him from breasts to hips.
If she couldnât feel what she was doing to him, then something was seriously wrong, but he figured she got the drift. Especially after she gave him the little bump and grind right where it counted.
Taylor pulled back just enough to nip his lower lip, then she was off him, walking toward the minibar.
He, on the other hand, felt like a moth pinned to a Peg-Board, unable to move. âDamn, girl. A drive-by ravishing.â
She laughed, and the sound shot right to his groin. After a moment pondering the inside of the small fridge, she brought out a bottle of white wine. âItâs not a martini, but would you like some?â
He shook his head. âI already had one. Too early for another.â
âI know. Hey, itâs Vegas. No rules.â
âNo mercy, no rules. What have I gotten myself into?â
She put the bottle on the dresser and her hand on her hip. âYouâre right. If you were smart, youâd peel yourself off that wall and march right out of here.â
He chuckled as he complied with the first part, but instead of leaving, he joined her near the dresser. âIâve never forgotten you,â he said.
âOh?â
Shaking his head, he moved in closer, not touchingher with his hands, but with his body. âThat weekend rates right up there with the moon landing and getting my first bike.â
âWow, and I thought you were just humoring me.â
âHey, you needed a guiding hand, and God knows at that age, I was all hands.â
âYou sweet-talker. Iâm all aflutter.â
âNo, youâre not. But you will be.â He leaned in then, touching her lips lightly with his own. He wanted to take it slowly this time, learning her with due diligence and patience. They had almost a week, and he planned to milk each step for all it was worth.
She didnât try to rush him. In fact, she simply parted her lips slightly and shared her sweet breath as he lazily ran his tongue over her silky contours.
He thought about moving to the bed, but that could wait, too. For now, the only thing that mattered was her mouth, the way she tasted, the softness and the heat.
Her body, touching him at his waist and slightly below, melted back against the credenza, but she didnât use her hands to steady herself. It was as if they had choreographed the whole scene beforehand. To test his theory he pulled back and she followed effortlessly, neither increasing or decreasing the pressure of the kiss. Damn. He thought immediately of how the principle would apply when they got to the bed. Like synchronized swimmers without the water. Maybe he should try it now, while the magic was still in the air.
He took her hand and led her through the doorwayto the bedroom. She used her index finger to tickle his palm, and his whole body reacted. Who was this woman, and how could she turn him to mush with just a single finger?
He stopped her just shy of the queen-size bed. Smiling to match her devilish grin, he ran his hands lightly up her blouse,
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