Can't Stop the Feeling (Sinclair Sisters 2)

“Do you like it?”

She nodded. “I love it.” She gave him a wicked look. “I was going to try to talk you into letting me move out of the housekeeper’s apartment and into here.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would work.”

He tugged her to him. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I could be persuaded.” His eyes caught hers, and he spotted the moment when she became aware that there was a large bed in the room behind her.

She nervously bit at her lip. “Cook made dinner. You must be hungry.”

“Aye.” He backed her into the room. “I’m starving.” He closed the door gently behind him. “But not for food.”

Her cheeks were glowing now, and her lips were berry-red from the kisses they’d shared on the bluff. He smoothed her hair away from her face, aware that his girl was shy when it came to anything sexual.

“Would you like to get into that bed with me, Donna?” he asked.

Sparkling eyes looked up at him. “I’m not very tired, Duncan.”

He fought back his smile. “Neither am I, but I’m thinking there might be other things we could do in that bed.”

She cocked her head at him, her eyes going wide with feigned innocence. “Massage? Read? Watch TV?”

He hooked a finger into the neck of her top and pulled her closer. “Those are good too. We can do those later.”

“Well, what would you like to do in the meantime?” Her hands flattened on his chest and the look she gave him almost brought him to his knees.

“What I really want to do”—he reached for the bottom of her shirt—“is get you out of these clothes and make you more comfortable.”

“You think I’m uncomfortable?”

He slowly peeled the top over her head and tossed it onto a blue-and-white-striped armchair that sat nearby. The sight before him was a feast for a hungry man. Plump, ripe globes encased in violet lace.

He traced a finger over the curve of her breasts. “Is it a matching set?”

“Why don’t you have a look?” Her hands curled on his arms.

“I think that’s a rare idea.” He unhooked the button of her jeans and slid the zip down. All day long those jeans had been driving him crazy. It would give him great pleasure to peel them from her.

“My boots,” she reminded him as he slid her jeans over her hips.

“I think this would work better if you sat on the bed.” Not giving her time to reply, he just swept her up into his arms and sat her down, dropping to his knees in front of her. “That’s better.”

He found the zippers and dispensed with her boots. Sparkly purple toenails rewarded him for his efforts, and he smiled.

“Why am I the only one getting undressed here?” Donna said on a pout. It was cute, and she couldn’t quite pull it off, but he appreciated the effort.

“You don’t expect me to undress myself, do you? I mean, I’m helping you. The least you can do is return the favour.”

With a wide smile, she reached for the buttons on his shirt then stilled. His heart missed a beat with the fear that she’d changed her mind.

“Duncan? How many tartan shirts do you own?”

He looked at her, figuring she would know better than he did. “A lot.” He tended to find one thing that worked and then stick to it, and that way he didn’t have to think abo

ut what to wear.

“Then you won’t miss this one, will you?” She grabbed each side of his shirt and tugged.