The Expectant Executive

She grinned as she slipped off her shoes. “Trust me on this, darling. Your body is quite remarkable.”

“I’ll bet it can’t hold a candle to yours,” he said as he bent to pull off his boots. When he straightened he wrapped his arms around her to pull her against him. “But I’m damned sure going to find out.”

His eyes held her captive as she felt his hands begin to gather the fabric of her dress. In no time at all, he pulled the clingy knit up and over her head.

Then, reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra and slid the straps from her shoulders. The scrap of lace joined her dress on the floor.

When he stepped back to gaze at her, she hoped that he missed the fact that gravity had affected certain parts of her anatomy and things weren’t as pert as they’d been ten years ago. Of course, they hadn’t known each other then, so maybe he wouldn’t notice that, although still slender and toned, she was approaching forty.

“My God, Fin, you’re beautiful.” From the appreciative gleam in his eyes, she had no doubt that he meant it.

Feeling more feminine and attractive than she had in a very long time, she pushed his shirt from his impossibly wide shoulders and tossed it on top of the growing pile of their clothing on the plush white carpet. Sparks of heat rushed through her at the speed of light when he pulled her back into his arms, and she had to force herself to breathe at the first contact of sensitive feminine skin meeting hair-roughened male flesh.

“You feel as good as I knew you would,” he said, his breathing sounding quite labored.

“So…do…you.” He wasn’t the only one having trouble catching his breath.

His large hands splaying over her back felt absolutely wonderful and she marveled at how exciting his callused palms felt on her smooth skin. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the tiny tingles skipping through her at his touch. But when he leaned back to kiss the slopes of her breasts, the coil of need deep in her feminine core tightened to an empty ache and she felt as if she would melt

into a puddle.

His firm lips nibbled and teased until she thought she would go mad if he didn’t take the tightened tip into his mouth. But the moment his mouth closed over her, Fin’s knees gave way and she had to grasp his hard biceps to keep from falling into an undignified heap at his feet.

“Easy, sweetheart.” His lips grazing her sensitive nipple as he spoke intensified the sensations racing through her body and she barely managed to suppress a moan from escaping. “We’re just getting started.”

“You really meant it…when you said our lovemaking would take…all night,” she said, struggling to draw air into her lungs.

He raised his head, the promise in his dark blue gaze causing her heart to pound against her ribs. “I’m going to take my time and by tomorrow morning there won’t be a single inch of you that I haven’t kissed or made love to.” His smile sent an arrow of heat straight to the most feminine part of her. “I’m not from New York, Fin. I’m a country boy with country ways. I take my time and don’t get in a rush about much of anything. And especially when I’m loving a woman.”

The sound of his smooth, steady baritone and the vow she detected in his navy eyes made her insides feel as if they’d turned to warm pudding. “Th-there won’t be anything left of me but a pile of ashes,” she said, barely recognizing the sultry female voice as her own.

His sexy grin as he guided her hands to his belt buckle increased the heat building inside of her. “Then I guess we’ll go up in a blaze of glory together, sweetheart.”

Slowly unbuckling the leather strap, Fin concentrated on unfastening the metal button at his waist. She delighted in the shudder that ran through his big body when her fingers brushed the bulge straining against his fly as she reached for the tab of his zipper. But instead of easing the closure open, she decided to treat him to a bit of the sweet torture he’d been putting her through.

“I think I’m going to enjoy this slow, country lovemaking,” she said as she leisurely ran her finger along the top of his waistband. She allowed her knuckles to lightly brush his skin and watched his stomach muscles contract in response.

“I don’t want you get the wrong idea.” He drew in a deep breath. “I swear I’m not trying to hurry things along, but these jeans are getting damned uncomfortable in the stride.”

“It does appear that you have a problem in that area,” she teased. Taking pity on him, she eased the zipper down. “Does that feel better?”

“Oh, yeah.” Brushing her fingers aside, he stepped back and made quick work of removing the denim from his muscular thighs. “You have no idea how painful a pair of jeans can be to a man in my condition.”