Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)
“Of which I have none.”
For which she was fiercely glad. “Because you’re a cop, or because you haven’t found the right woman?”
“Partially both, and partially neither.”
“In other words, you’re not saying?”
He shrugged. “What about yourself? No one waiting back in San Francisco?”
“You’ve been checking up on me.”
“I’m a cop. It’s what I do.”
Yeah, right. As if the Springfield police department had the time to check the background details of everyone they came in contact with.
“I’m still waiting for a man who likes chocolate as much as I do.” She hesitated, then added impishly, “So where do you stand on the chocolate debate?”
“Can’t stand the stuff.”
She sighed dramatically. “Another dream crumbles to dust.”
Amusement touched the nut-brown depths of his eyes. “That mean we can’t have sex?”
“Hell, no.”
“Good.”
Their gazes locked. Her heart began to beat in triple time, and desire burned through her veins. She wanted this man; there was no denying that. But right here and now was hardly practical—on a porch or in a motel room with her grandmother sleeping in the next bed. Gran probably wouldn’t mind the noise, but the mere thought embarrassed the hell out of Kat.
“I need to sleep.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant and was reluctant to ask, simply because the line between common sense and lust was thin enough. Too much more, and common sense hadn’t a hope.
She stood, gathering the cushion as she did. He rose with her, and suddenly the porch seemed far too small. She licked her lips, saw his gaze drop to her mouth, and her throat went dry. He took the step that separated them, and all she could smell was freshly soaped skin and raw masculinity.
Her whole body tingled, as if brought to life by this man’s presence. She’d never felt anything as powerful as this, and she so desperately wanted to make love to him. To feel his hands on her skin, his body on hers. In hers. Save for Gran being in the next bed …
“Gran’s asleep.” Her voice came out husky.
“I know.”
Their bodies barely brushed, yet she was intensely aware of every part of him. From the fire burning in his eyes to the rapid rise and fall of his chest pressing against her aching nipples to the heated hardness of his erection.
“We can’t. Not here.”
“I know.”
But he didn’t retreat, and neither did she. He brushed a hand down her side to her hip, then moved his fingers across her bare stomach, searing her skin with the heat. Then his touch moved up under her T-shirt, and her breath caught in anticipation. When his thumb rubbed one aching nipple, she almost groaned in ecstasy.
She swallowed hard and tried to stay sane. “What you’re doing could get us arrested.”
“Sure could.”
His attention moved to her other breast, and her legs quivered. Even if she’d wanted to retreat, she very much doubted if her legs would support such an action. His other hand cupped her cheek and his thumb outlined her lips. Her heart stuttered to a stop as he slipped his hand around the back of her head, holding her still as he lowered his mouth to hers.
His kiss was like nothing she’d ever felt before. A gentle, erotic possession that gave so much and yet left her hungering for more.