Breathless Descent (Texas Hotzone 3)

The doors opened and she stepped inside, pushing the button for the fourth—and top—floor, and faced forward. Caleb stepped in beside her, taking up more space with his sexual energy than any one man should fill. They were alone, the steel doors closing them inside the tiny compartment. And damn him, he smelled good. And tasted good. And felt good. If she looked at him, if she saw the sizzling warm heat of his welcoming stare, she’d forget herself and kiss him. Again.

Memories of their hot and cold moments, as early as today, shuddered through Shay with a deep breath. Caleb could turn off the heat in a snap of his fingers and turn on the silence and withdrawal just as quickly. She knew this. She’d seen this. She even understood it.

True, he’d never before shifted back and forth in this extreme fashion, but he’d shifted plenty. He’d catch himself, check himself. Which meant, no matter how tempting, Shay could not allow anything more to happen between them tonight. Not if she wanted to be sure they could salvage their relationship when this night passed. If she were smart, she’d tell him she was seeing someone else. Tell him she was in love. Set him free. But considering she’d suggested the kiss to end temptation, she doubted she’d be convincing.

The minute the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Shay darted forward, reaching for her purse, which she didn’t have. “Oh, no,” she said, turning and running into Caleb. Her hands flattened on his chest, her breath lodged in her throat.

“Hello to you, too,” he said, his hands on her arms, his thighs—those muscles hugged by denim—touching hers.

Shay shoved out of his arms. “I forgot my keys and purse. Oh, God. And my cell phone, too. They’re in the car.”

He paused and then said, “It’s locked, isn’t it?”

She nodded, frustrated at herself for doing something so irresponsible. “And it’s your fault, Caleb. I was flustered over you. And now my client is going to be here and I can’t get into my off—”

He moving so quickly, she had no warning—just suddenly, his hands were framing her face, his lips brushing hers. A gentle, lingering caress, his warm breath mingling with hers, his tongue just barely slipping past her teeth.

Overwhelmed by the warm awareness spreading across her chest, between her thighs, she couldn’t move, couldn’t react.

Slowly he pulled back and ran a thumb over her cheek, a slight smile on his oh-so-kissable lips that only made her want to press her mouth to his again. “I figured if I was going to take the blame for all of this, I should get a few of the benefits, as well,” he said softly. “And kissing you is definitely a bonus.” He slid his hand over hers. “Let’s go see what we’re dealing with to get your purse.” He headed to the stairs with her in tow, and she was still a bit dazed and confused by how easily he’d melted her resolve.

The fact that his hand was big and warm didn’t help matters. Nor did the fact that she couldn’t help but notice his nice tight backside in those faded jeans. The view was good and she was human. And weak, she chided herself.

Shay snapped her attention upward, refusing to look at his nice tight backside one second longer. Instead, she opened her mouth to chide him as she had herself, to say a few precise words that would disconnect her from the wildfire he’d set off inside her. But she couldn’t find even one witty word to keep him away. It had to be the jeans. There was no other explanation. At least, not one she wanted to consider.

Of course, it wasn’t long until she had more to consider than the way Caleb’s jeans fit. They stood by her car, and Caleb inspected the door. “Nice car,” he commented. “I didn’t take you for a silver kind of girl, though. Maybe blue.”

Shay hugged herself. Caleb knew her so well, it was frightening. “Blue was on back order. It was a splurge, and I was afraid I’d talk myself out of it if I waited. Can you open it?”

“Not a chance,” he said without a dash of hesitation. “Not without damage. You got a spare key at home?”

“Spare is at the bottom of Lake Travis,” she said. “It’s not a good story, but Kent and his boat are involved.”

“Ah, yes,” Caleb said. “One of Kent’s boat parties. Always…interesting. I’m surprised he got you out there.”

“I went to pick him up,” she said, telling the story despite her intention not to. “He didn’t want to drive. Said he’d had too many beers. Of course, that ride wasn’t possible since he decided to play football with my keys right by the water.”

“Ouch,” Caleb said. “I can only imagine the hurting you put on him the next morning.”