The P.I.

Focus, he reminded himself. And he might have if he could have stopped breathing—or if she hadn’t chosen that moment to lean just a little bit closer. So close that if they both turned at the same time, his mouth would brush hers. The image filled his mind and he could no longer see the words on the page.

“Move your hand,” she said.

“Hmm?”

They turned at the same time, and their lips did indeed brush before each of them drew back a little. He didn’t have to wonder if she’d felt the same flash of heat that he had. He could see it in the darkening of her eyes, her parted lips and her quickened breathing.

“You need to…move your hand.”

He knew exactly where he wanted to move it, but he was a professional, Kit reminded himself. He reined his thoughts in from the little detour they were once more taking and glanced down to where her hand was nudging his.

“It’s blocking half the page.”

“Right.” That was when he saw the bracelet, and it instantly cleared the sensual fog out of his brain. He hadn’t noticed before, probably because it had been hidden beneath the sleeve of her suit. The bracelet was made of small, flat gold squares, four of which were engraved with letters. “What have we here?” Lifting her wrist, he spelled out the letters. “D-R-E-W. Drew.” He met her eyes. “Odds are it’s your name. Does it ring a bell?”

She stared down at the letters and repeated the word, testing it on her tongue. “Drew.” Something flickered in her mind. The sound of someone calling her that? “Drew, run! This way!” She tried to capture the memory, but it faded.

“You’ve remembered something else,” Kit said.

“I think someone was calling me that, telling me to run. The name seems…familiar. I just don’t—I can’t be positive.” She glanced down at the bracelet. If she remembered someone calling her that, and she was wearing a bracelet with that name engraved on it…logic told her that the name was hers. “Drew,” she said again. For a moment, as the word lingered in the air, she allowed herself to hope. Shouldn’t the simple sound bring more memories flooding back?

Seconds ticked by. Her hope dwindled.

“Nothing,” she finally said. “Nothing.”

“You’re wrong.” He was still holding her wrist, and with his free hand, he tipped her chin so that she had to meet his eyes. “It’s definitely something. I’m betting it’s your name. So that’s a start. From now on, that’s what I’ll call you, and you start to think of yourself as Drew. Soon you’ll have more. It’s all going to come back to you, Drew.”

There was something in the intent way he looked at her, in the sound of the name, her name, when he said it that made her want to believe him—to believe that he could make it all happen.

But it wasn’t merely his kindness that she wanted. She wanted more than anything else to kiss him again. When his lips had brushed against hers a moment ago, she’d felt the explosion of warmth right down to her toes. And it hadn’t been fair of him to plant that image of the dark room with the big soft bed in her mind. Hadn’t she decided that she would have to be the strong one? How could she kiss him again? How could she even let herself think of what it might be like to make love with him when she didn’t know anything about herself?

But she couldn’t think of anything else. Right now, all that seemed to matter was how fast the pulse at her wrist was racing against his thumb. Her heart was racing, too. And his mouth was so close.

She should move, pull away, but she’d lost the will to do so. He moved a finger over her bottom lip and she trembled.

“You’re so responsive. Watching you, I can’t stop thinking of what it will be like to be inside of you.”

“I…” Her mouth had suddenly gone so dry that words were sticking. Just as well, because what she wanted to tell him was that their thoughts were identical.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and, for a moment, neither one spoke or moved. She wasn’t sure she could do either. She realized that he was leaving it up to her. There was a sweetness to him—an irresistible contrast to the danger she’d sensed in him from the beginning. A smart woman would draw back. And hadn’t he said she was a smart woman? Plus, she was logical. But there was nothing logical about what she was feeling—it was purely sensual. But he’d also said she was an artist. And they took risks, didn’t they?

She wasn’t sure quite how it had happened, but suddenly he was closer, his mouth just a breath away from hers. She wondered if she’d ever wanted anyone quite as much as she wanted Kit Angelis right now. Throwing caution to the wind, she pressed her mouth to his.

The moment she did, he took over the kiss, moving his mouth expertly over hers, parting her lips with his tongue. Yes, she thought. More. Whatever her reservations, there was absolutely nothing not to like about kissing Kit Angelis. Pleasure moved through her from each and every contact point—the press of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the arousing slide of his tongue. And there was such heat—glorious waves of it crashing through her until she was sure her bones were disintegrating. Tension, fear, all of her worries evaporated until she was aware of only this moment, this man.

Had anyone ever made her feel with such intensity before? If they had, surely, she wouldn’t have forgotten. One of his hands cupped the back of her neck, the other gripped her waist, but she felt as if he were touching her everywhere. She couldn’t wait until he actually did.

When he drew back, they were both breathing hard.

“Don’t stop,” she said.

“I won’t.” He moved a thumb over her bottom lip. “I can’t.”

“Neither can I.”

This time it was Kit who closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth once more to hers.

Here she is. Here she is. The words thrummed in his blood as her taste once more poured through him. The sweetness was still there, but beneath it was the darker nuance of a desire as desperate as his own. Dragging his mouth from hers, he sampled the skin at her throat. It was damp, salty and vibrating with the sound of his name.

His name. The sound of it on her lips sent an avalanche of feelings ripping through Kit. Needs sharpened to an ache in his center. He couldn’t get enough of her. He might never get enough. Hadn’t he known this would happen? Hadn’t he foreseen that she could strip him of control?

Even as the questions formed in his mind, her fingers dug into his shoulder and she wiggled on his lap trying to straddle him. Minds in tune, he lifted her off him and their fingers tangled, fumbled, as they sent her skirt sliding to the floor. The breath backed up in his lungs as he stared at the tiny scrap of white lace she wore beneath.

“Wait.” She would have climbed back onto his lap if he hadn’t pressed the palm of one hand flat against her stomach, trapping her between the chair he sat in and the desk. The soft dampness of her skin nearly distracted him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the thong. “I wondered what you were wearing under that skirt.”

He drew one finger of his other hand along the satin ribbon hugging her hip and then slowly down the triangle of lace to where it disappeared between her legs.

He fastened his gaze on her and watched those sea-green eyes darken and then glaze as he pushed aside the lace and eased two fingers into her. Wet heat enfolded him.

“Kit!”

She was so hot, so ready, but he kept his eyes on hers. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Please.”

He shifted the hand that he held pressed against her stomach, easing his thumb beneath the lace triangle until he found the little nub of her desire. He rubbed it hard as he pushed the two fingers of his other hand into her again.

She cried out his name again as her hips arched forward, and his control nearly snapped. But he wanted…no, he needed to give them both more. Gripping her hips, he settled her on the edge of the desk, then pushed her legs apart, knelt down on the floor and began to use his mouth on her.

She felt as if she were stretched on a rack trapped between pleasure and torture. Pleasure—waves of it—washed over her and through her as his tongue licked the wet heat at her center. But the pressure wasn’t hard enough. He didn’t go deep enough. And his hard strong hands held her thighs in a firm grip so that she couldn’t move. Her own gripped the edge of the desk, struggling to hold herself upright as the tension inside of her built to the breaking point. But at the last moment, he drew away and trailed kisses down one thigh and then the other. The scrape of his teeth, the rough texture of his tongue, sent twin sensations of fire and ice along her nerve endings

When he came back to where she wanted him, she could only feel his breath—teasing, taunting, until the ache inside of her grew sharp.

“Kit! Please.”

As if he’d been waiting for just that signal, he pressed his mouth fully to her center and used his teeth and tongue. Heat scorched through her, as his thumb rubbed her clitoris and his tongue stroked into her over and over again. The climax built quickly, erupting and ripping through her in one wave after another.

Afterward, she lay on the desk, watching him through slitted eyes as he pushed down his jeans and sheathed himself in a condom. She couldn’t move, could merely look on as he raised her legs, resting them on his shoulders and gripped her hips, drawing her forward.