Was she? If she were, she’d still be worrying about Diana. Not Graham, right here beside her, standing so close like he was. And his velvet brown gaze fused with hers—warm and alive. All she could think about was how incredible he smelled. How his rumpled, dark hair needed smoothing. The longer he looked at her, the harder it was to fight the urge to touch him. She knew how it felt to be in his arms. And how much she wanted that again now.
Right now.
She blew out a long, slow breath, determined not to launch herself at him.
“I can head out.” He cleared his throat. “Since things are done here.”
What was he asking? He should definitely go.
Yes. Go. The sooner, the better.
But she said, “No.” Don’t leave.
“No?” he whispered, one step closer to her.
“Stay.” One word, and she’d changed everything.
The realization that she was now cradling Graham’s face, that her lips were clinging hungrily to his, hit a good thirty seconds after the fact.
But then his hands were sliding up her back, and his lips sealed more firmly to hers. Heaven help her, the tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she was swaying into him. Want outweighed everything. And, oh, she wanted this. She wanted him.
…
He’d imagined kissing her. When it came to Felicity, he’d imagined a lot of things.
But it was nothing like this.
She was in his arms. A living, burning flame he couldn’t control—he didn’t want to control. The sweep of her lips. The slide of her fingers through his hair. The brush of her breath on his cheek. The taste of her mouth. She was assaulting every one of his senses. Again. Since the elevator, things had changed for him. He was in trouble. Thoughts of physical intimacy, things like desire and cravings, had been dormant.
Until now. Yearning made his blood sing and instincts kick in with a vengeance.
His hands ran up her back, pulling her closer. Her curves, against him, knocked the air from his lungs. It didn’t help that she was moving, impatient, her hands sliding down his chest and tugging the tail of his shirt from his pants.
“Felicity…” His hands caught hers, firm but gentle. If he didn’t stop this now, stopping would no longer be an option. And, dammit, he knew this was too much, too soon. For both of them. But the fire in her green eyes shook his resolve. It had been so long since he’d felt this way, needy and raw. He ached to touch and taste and explore every inch of her.
He blew out a long, slow breath, wishing she’d stop looking at him that way.
But what worried him more? That she would stop looking at him that way.
The featherlight stroke of her fingers against his bare stomach triggered a head-to-toe quiver.
“Dammit,” he whispered. Right or wrong, his senses were invaded, submerged—happily—in the woman in his arms. At the moment, she was all that mattered. Had he ever been so aware of another person?
The spot behind her ear smelled of cinnamon and berries. No…orange, from baking this morning. He drew her scent deep, his restraint melting away as she leaned in to him. He ran his nose along the shell of her ear, his lips nipping at her earlobe until her breath hitched.
He did that to her. And knowing that was powerful. A surge of exhilaration and hunger rolled over him—kissing her was all he could do. And, damn, he liked kissing her.
She was so soft. The dip in the middle of her lower lip demanded extra attention. A hint of wine clung to her mouth, making the too-sweet red his new favorite flavor. And when her lips parted, his hands were tangling in her hair to pull her closer. The touch of her tongue was a jolt to the system, one he’d forgotten existed but didn’t want to forget again.
He took his time exploring the warmth of her mouth, tasting her, breathing her in and leaving them both gasping for air.
When her fingers unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it wide to stare at his chest, he tilted her chin up—forcing their eyes to meet. All his want and hunger, passion and need blazed back at him from her green eyes.
Ignoring the rational arguments for why this was a mistake wasn’t easy, but her touch helped, short-circuiting the rational side of his brain.
When his phone started vibrating, he was willing to ignore that, too. But one of the cats decided to swat it off the dresser. It landed with a thud and a crack—instantly severing the connection between them.
“Oh no.” She knelt. “Praline, what did you do?”