She told herself to stop acting like a lovesick teenager and finish her work, and the effect of that stern talking-to lasted for a good twenty minutes. Then she found her mind wandering again. Scheming. Justifying. Because why not go to the bar? The images would still be on her computer tomorrow. And it wasn't as if she had a firm deadline to edit the shots. She was simply trying to keep ahead of the work. But surely a few hours on a Monday night wouldn't throw her too far off schedule. Would it?
She told herself that it absolutely wouldn't, decided she might as well listen to the little devil on her shoulder, then stood up to go toss on something more presentable than the cut-off pair of Elena's sweatpants she'd pulled on after her shower that morning. And the tank top, while comfortable in the Austin heat, really wasn't appropriate attire, especially since she was wearing it without a bra.
She'd just stood up to go change when she heard the knock at the front door. She hurried that way, expecting it to be the downstairs neighbor, coming to return the screwdriver she'd borrowed that morning.
Instead, she found herself staring at Tyree.
"Oh," she said, then cursed her utter lack of imagination. Why couldn't she have said something clever or sexy? Probably because at the moment she felt ratty, not sexy, but she stood back and let him enter, anyway.
But as soon as she'd shut the door behind him, she had to rethink that whole sexy thing, because he was looking at her with so much lust that all of her fears about no longer being attractive to him went right out the window. The outfit she wore left very little to the imagination, and if the way his heated gaze was roaming over her--making her blood fire in response--Tyree was more than happy with the way she filled out the shorts and tank.
"Good Lord, woman. You're going to give a man a heart attack."
"I think that's one of the best compliments anyone's ever given me."
"I came over because I wanted to see you. To talk to you. But now..."
He took a step closer.
"What?" Her voice sounded breathless.
"I think I'm going to just skip the talking part," he said, and before she even managed to follow the line of conversation, he had her caged in his arms. His kiss was hot. Deliciously wild. And there was something exciting about being trapped like that in his arms. In knowing that he could do anything he wanted to her in that moment. In hoping that he'd do just that.
As if she'd voiced her fantasy, he took her arms and thrust them above her head. His palm was big enough that when he crossed her wrists, he was able to hold her there with just one hand. With the other, he pushed up her tank top, making her gasp when he lifted it above her breasts, exposing her nipples.
He bent, taking one in his mouth, then sucking hard before grazing the tender flesh with his teeth. When he pulled his mouth away, he blew a thin stream of air, and she felt her areola tighten in response to the decadent, wonderful sensation.
"You have such beautiful breasts," he murmured, closing his mouth over her again and then slowly kissing his way up, playing his lips along her collarbone with such slow and intimate detail she could feel the pull of his touch all the way down between her thighs. She was throbbing there. Her core clenching with desire, wanting him to fill her. Wanting to feel him inside her.
And at the same time, she didn't want to move. Wanted to stay like this forever, at his mercy, as he teased and tormented her with his mouth and his hands.
"God, Eva," he groaned. "What have you done to me."
She laughed. "I don't know. But I'm really glad you came over."
"I wanted to see you. Hell, I had to see you." He stroked her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Sometimes I think I shouldn't want you this much."
The words were soft but heartfelt.
"The distance," she said. "I know. I have a business in San Diego. You have a business here."
He nodded. "That's part of it. It feels untenable."
"Maybe it doesn't have to be." She hadn't meant to speak the words, but now that she had, she knew they were true. She craved him. Wanted him. And foolish or not, she believed they'd get over these barriers together.
She didn't understand the shadow she saw in his eyes. And with a sudden flash of worry, she realized that he'd said their geographical incompatibility was only part of their problem. "Tyree?"
"Hush," he said. "Let me kiss you." The shadow was gone now, and she wondered if it had only been her imagination. It hadn't been, though. Some part of her knew that. But at the moment, that part of her didn't much care.
"Just kiss me?" Her body felt hyperaware, and her breath caught in her throat. "What if I want more?"
"Oh, baby," he said, his voice thick with longing. And then he did kiss her. A long, hot kiss that felt like a promise. The kind of kiss that led places. And, in this case, it led right into the bedroom when he took her hand and drew her there with him.
"Okay?"
"Oh, yes," she said, then gasped when he moved closer and slowly, deliciously slowly, drew the tank over her head. He tossed it aside, then bent to take her breast fully in his mouth even as his hand slid down her belly and beneath the loose waistband of the cut-off sweats.
She wasn't wearing underwear, and his fingers teased over her trimmed pubic hair before brushing over her clit and making her squeak with pleasure, her legs going so weak she wasn't sure if she could stay upright.