Walk the Line (Man of the Month 12)

She rolled her eyes. "So you frost them, then put them in some Tupperware."

"Right. I could do that. Or you could stay and make sure I don't put them away too soon."

She swallowed. "Well, yeah. If that would help you out."

He took one step toward her, and in the small kitchen that put them only inches apart. "Or you could forget about the cupcakes and just stay."

"I--Brent." She licked her lips, and his whole body tightened with desire. "What are you doing?"

"Honestly? I'm thinking about kissing you."

"Oh." He saw both surprise and pleasure in her eyes. "What about it?"

"How much I want to. How much I shouldn't."

"Why not?" The question was breathy, almost a whisper.

"For one, you're younger than me. You're my boss's daughter. My friend's daughter. Not to mention that I'm a single dad who needs to be careful about the signals I send to my kid. Plus, you're the babysitter."

"Those are all bad?"

He sighed. "I thought so. I'm starting to lose perspective."

"I can help with that."

"Can you?"

"Yeah." She took a step toward him, then rose up on her tiptoes. Gently, she brushed a kiss over his lips.

Then she backed away, biting her lower lip as she looked at him, as if challenging him to do more.

Dammit, he took the challenge. Maybe he'd go straight to hell, but he had to have this woman. And without any more hesitation, he pulled her close, then claimed her mouth in a kiss that seared through him, long and hot and deep.

Chapter Nine

Elena melted against him, shocked that she'd been so bold as to take the initiative and wildly happy that he'd stepped up to the plate once she had. This kiss was ... well, it was everything. For months, she'd been imagining his lips on hers, his tongue warring with hers, his hands touching her everywhere. And now--oh, dear Lord, he was doing to her exactly what she'd imagined. Touching. Tasting. Teasing.

Taking.

"Christ, Elena, you taste like ambrosia." He broke their kiss only long enough to murmur those sensual words, and then his mouth closed over hers again. It was already hot in the kitchen, but now the air between them sizzled. He cupped his palm on the back of her neck, holding her head in place as he explored her mouth. Tasting her lips, her teeth, then brushing soft kisses along her jawline.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to taste you?"

He pulled away long enough to meet her eyes, and she actually whimpered from the depth of desire she saw there. A wild, almost violent need. And oh, yes, that's what she wanted. She'd waited too long for this to be polite. At least as long as he had.

"I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you," she confessed. "Remember that day? When I walked into the bar to find my father?"

"How could I forget? It's etched into my memory. You were--you are--the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. And I practically had to sit on my hands so I wouldn't reach out and touch you."

Her pulse skittered, and the breath she drew in felt shaky. "You can touch me now," she whispered. And then, because she couldn't stand not having his hands on her, she added, "Please touch me now."

"Oh, babe." She heard the heat in his voice, and she expected his hands on her right away. He surprised her, though, by moving slowly. His fingers trailing lightly over the loose material of her T-shirt.

She'd never thought of a non-touch as being erotic, but the more he didn't touch her, the more aroused she became. Her nipples peaked against the thin material of her bra, and she felt her core go hot. Wet.

And still, that wasn't where he touched her. Instead, he traced the neckline of her shirt, then he followed the seam at her shoulder. He kept his attention on his fingers. On the way they danced along with barely any pressure. Just enough to hint, but not enough to satisfy.

"Please," she whispered, then watched as his fingertip brushed ever so lightly over the swell of her breast. And when he grazed her nipple, she arched back and gasped, then clasped her hand over his, forcing a more solid connection.