Exposed to You (One Night of Passion 2)

“I’m being inconsiderate. It’s midnight on a Sunday. You have to teach in the morning, don’t you?”

She nodded and pushed back her half-eaten plate of salmon. “I do. Although it’s only from nine until noon. Summer school has a very relaxed schedule. Besides, it’s my last week before the term ends. The kids’ final project is tomorrow.”

“What are you teaching?” he asked.

“Drawing Three. The students are more advanced, so it’s a fun, laid-back summer class.”

He nodded slowly, searching her harmonious, calm features. He wanted to stay and make love to her. He wanted that more than anything. His arousal had ebbed since he’d held her and felt her quaking in orgasm, but it’d never fully dissipated. It flared to life nearly every time she smiled or laughed or studied him with that somber stare that cut him down to the quick. He’d probably made a mistake by doing what he’d done at the restaurant, but he’d wanted her to understand how singular this experience was for him, how unique she was.

People often alluded to the fact that he could have any woman, but those people didn’t understand that a female body wasn’t enough for him. He wanted connection. He wanted something that counted—something like his parents had, or Rill and Katie shared. He didn’t know if Joy could be the woman for him or not, but he’d been with enough female companions at this point in his life to know that what he experienced with her was different. Special.

It was rare finding that spark with someone—magical, even—and that was true if you were a truck driver, an accountant or a film actor. He could make a decent argument for the fact that it was harder for him to find someone special. On more than one occasion, he’d wondered if fate had blessed him in so many different ways but would deny him the precious gift of a life mate. He dreaded the possibility.

He took a large swallow of his ice water. “I should be going then,” he said, setting down his glass. He paused when she put her hand on his forearm. He looked into her face.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said.

He again took her hand in his and squeezed. Her smile struck him as shy . . . radiant. He felt blood rush to his cock, creating a full, taut feeling of anticipation.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that,” he murmured. He stood, her hand still in his, and raised her to her feet.

* * *

Joy led him to her bedroom, her heart starting to jump and pound against her breastbone. Maybe she should shower? Maybe she should brush her teeth? He drew her hand to his face and kissed her, his mouth warm and reassuring, and her stupid questions scattered to the sidelines of her awareness. She dropped his hand momentarily while she turned the bedside lamp on to a dim setting. She felt a strange mixture of excitement and awkwardness when she joined him where he stood at the side of her bed. He cradled her jaw and turned her face up toward his.

“Nervous?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s the first time . . .”

Her voice trailed off uncertainly, but he nodded. “The first time that we’ve been deliberate about it all instead of bowled over by lust,” he said, a smile pulling at his mouth. She sighed and turned to press a kiss to his palm.

“I actually meant something else.”

“What?” he asked.

“The first time we’ve paused to take off all our clothes?” she murmured, smiling up at him.

He laughed. His hand trailed down her arm. Her flesh tingled beneath his skimming fingertips. There was something about his touch that really did something to her. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “I want to be inside you,” he murmured. “It’s all I’ve thought about for the past two days.”

“I want the same thing.”

“Then let’s give each other what we want,” he said gruffly, his warm breath striking her upturned lips.

“Yes,” she whispered, before his mouth covered hers. She closed her eyes and gave herself to the power of his kiss. His mouth was still cool from drinking ice water, but she felt his heat just beneath it. His taste inundated her—complex, male, intoxicating. Her shyness melted, and the true Joy rose to the surface. She penetrated his mouth with her tongue, eager to taste more of him.

He groaned and took both of her shoulders in his hands. She encircled his waist with her arms. He squeezed her shoulder muscles lightly and brought her closer to him, until her breasts crushed against his ribs and her belly pressed along his zipper. She felt him behind the fabric, hard, warm, teeming with life. He shifted slightly, and she realized the shaft of his penis rode down his left pant leg. She caressed his back muscles, thrilling to the sensation of all that lean, corded power. If he felt this good with his clothes on, what would it be like to feel his naked skin sliding beneath her fingertips? She shifted her hand between their straining bodies, suddenly ravenous to discover firsthand the answer to her question.

Her fingertips slipped between two buttons of his dress shirt. She touched the smooth skin covering his ribs. Her forefinger dipped down to stroke his abdomen. She felt the muscle spasm slightly, and he broke their kiss.

Joy sensed him looking down at her, but she focused on her task of unbuttoning his shirt. If she looked into his eyes, her self-consciousness might dampen her ardor, and she wanted no interference to her desire at the present moment. She parted his shirt and for a few seconds just stared at the expanse of flawless, golden brown skin covering ridged, defined muscle. His small, coppery-tinged nipples nestled in a smattering of light brown hair on his chest. The narrow path of hair that bisected a flat, defined abdomen seemed to beckon Joy . . . tempt her to follow it beneath the waistband of his crisp black trousers.

She looked into his face, feeling overwhelmed. God, he really was something from another world. This felt beyond her.

Perhaps he read the mixed anxiety and longing on her face, because his arms came around her loosely. He opened his palm at the small of her back and kneaded her flesh gently.

“Touch me, Joy. Let me see your hands on me,” he rasped, his voice coming from just above the top of her head. She looked straight ahead, her line of sight directly on dense pectoral muscles. She reached. A small sigh leaked past her lips. His skin felt thick and soft, the muscle beneath rigid against her seeking fingertips. She touched the crinkly hair on his chest and then a nipple. His breath hitched. His flesh beaded beneath her stroking finger. His cock lurched next to her belly.