The P.I.

He drew a finger down her forehead. “What’s worrying you now?”

“It’s just that…” What if she was lousy in bed? “I might not be very good at this. I mean—I don’t remember if I am.”

“You’ve been doing great so far.”

“There’s not much technique involved in fast.”

“Ouch.”

She felt heat flood her cheeks. “I didn’t mean…I’m not complaining. You’re…amazing. It’s me.”

“I’ve got an idea. If it’s technique you’re worried about, I could teach you. We’ll play follow the leader. I’ll do something to you, and then you do the same thing to me. That should slow things down a bit, so that I don’t just give in to my instincts and take you against the wall again. What do you think?”

She couldn’t think, at all—not while images of him pinning her against the wall and pushing himself into her poured into her mind. If she hadn’t been leaning against that wall, if he hadn’t been holding her, she’d have slid to the floor in a little pool of lust. “Sure,” she finally said, even though she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to.

“First, I’m going to get you out of some of these clothes. Watch closely.”

She glanced down. His hands were curved around her waist, his thumbs meeting at her naval. He moved them upward, slowly. The T-shirt moved with them until his thumbs paused right in the valley between her breasts. Her breasts hardened in anticipation and her insides clenched. Finally, he slid his thumbs beneath the shirt and rubbed them over her nipples. She wanted him to do more than that, but instead, he pulled the shirt over her head and simply looked at her.

“I’ve spent quite a bit of time wondering just what you were wearing under that suit, and I had an idea that it would be fancy and lacy.” He ran a finger lightly along the lace at the top of her bra. Just that featherlike touch made something contract deep inside of her.

He must have seen something in her expression because he said, “Lovemaking is better when all the senses are involved—sight and sound and taste as well as touch. Watching me touch you arouses you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” And that was a huge understatement. His hands were strong, masculine, his skin shades darker than hers. The contrast as his thumbs moved over her nipples was erotic. Tearing her gaze away, she glanced up to see that he was watching the movement, too, and his eyes had darkened. The pulsing inside of her quickened.

With one finger he traced the border of lace again, and little ripples of fire and ice raced along her nerve endings.

“I was wondering if your bra would match your thong. I have a weakness for sexy underwear.” Drawing his hands slowly down to her waist, he hooked fingers into the waistband of her jeans and pulled the snap loose. Her breath quickened as the rasp of the zipper being slowly lowered filled the room. The sight of his hands pulling her jeans apart combined with the sound was incredibly erotic. But so was the warmth of his fingers against her stomach.

“Nice.” His voice sounded a bit hoarse.

So did hers when she said, “Touch me. Please.”

“My pleasure.” Flattening one hand on her stomach, he slid it between her legs. “You’re so wet. So hot.”

Heat shot through her. Pressing her hands flat against the wall, she arched into his hand.

“Look at me, Drew.”

She did. His jaw had hardened and his eyes were so dark that she could barely see the blue.

“I want to be inside you. Soon.” He slipped one finger beneath the lace and pushed it into her. “Like this.”

She had to grip his waist hard so that she wouldn’t fall. “Now,” she managed to say. “Come in right now.”

But he didn’t. Instead, he removed his hand and took a careful step back. “Your turn.”

It took her a minute to recall the little game she’d agreed to play. Follow the leader. It was her turn to touch him the way he’d touched her. Thinking about it made her throat go dry as dust.

He was just standing there, waiting. The man had control, she had to hand it to him, and there was a part of her that wanted very much to snap it. She took a deep breath. What would happen if she just got out of her jeans and jumped him?

But there was another part of her that wanted even more to torture him the way that he’d been torturing her. That was the part she went with.

First, she had to get his T-shirt off. Drew lifted arms that felt like jelly, tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and slid her hands beneath it. She gripped his waist the way that he had done, but her thumbs were about five inches apart. Following her own instincts, she closed the distance between them and began to move her hands slowly upward.

Within seconds any thought she’d had of one-upmanship faded because all she could think of was Kit. She’d known that he was beautiful, but it was quite another thing to experience that beauty up close. His skin was warm and smooth and faintly damp. Glancing up, she saw that his eyes were glittering now like black diamonds and his hands had fisted at his sides. The control was costing him, and she couldn’t help feel some satisfaction. She shifted her attention back to his chest. His muscles felt like steel beneath that smooth skin, and she could feel them expand and relax as he breathed in and out. His chest hair was soft and silky, narrow at his waist and thicker, more luxuriant near his pecs.

Shoving his shirt up higher, she didn’t object when he helped her pull it off of him. His shoulders were corded with muscles and his skin was a lovely golden shade of bronze. A Greek god was what he looked like and, for tonight, he was hers.

She began again, pressing her hands to his waist and drawing them up his broad chest. His nipples grew harder when she ran her thumbs over them. At the sign of his response, she shuddered. Just who was she torturing? she wondered.

She moved her thumbs over his nipples again, absorbed his quick intake of breath. “I just love your body. It’s—” Then, because she simply couldn’t resist, she leaned forward and tasted the nipple that had grown so hard beneath her thumb.

“Drew.” His voice was husky, his breath rasping, as his hands gripped her head and pushed it away. “That wasn’t in the lesson.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I liked it…a lot, but we’re not going to get through the rest of it if you keep that up. Much more and I’ll take you right on the floor.”

“Big talk.” She traced one finger down the center of his chest and over his stomach, stopping only when it was blocked by the snap of his jeans. “I wouldn’t have any objection to that. But—” lowering her other hand, she pulled the snap open “—let’s wait a bit, shall we? I’m not through with you yet.”

She slid her fingers beneath his waistband, just the way he had. His stomach muscles clenched. This was fun, she thought. She was enjoying torturing them both. What did that say about her? She pulled open the snap. The sound was loud and erotic in the quiet room.

She didn’t have to look up to know that he was watching what she was doing. She could feel the heat of his gaze as she fumbled with the zipper. Then she tugged it down and pulled it apart just as he had done. No lace panties, but she found the black jockeys were an effective substitute—at least, for her.

“Nice,” she said.

What she was about to do next had her drawing in a deep gulp of oxygen. Then she slid her hand beneath the elastic and wrapped her fingers around the long, hard length of him. His groan was the perfect echo of what she was feeling. But she wasn’t done yet. She hooked her fingers in the elastic and pushed the cotton briefs down, freeing him. Then she dropped to her knees, took him into her mouth and stroked him with her tongue.

“Christ.” Kit threaded his fingers into her hair. “Drew.”

The plea in his tone sent pleasure arrowing through her.

“Stop.” The word was a hoarse whisper as he gently, but firmly, pulled her mouth away.

“I’m not finished,” she objected.

“I will be in a matter of seconds if you keep that up.” He hoisted her to her feet. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I just did what you did.”

“With a few improvisations,” he muttered as he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.

“The thought of you taking me against the wall again turned me on. Not to mention the floor.”

The heat of his glance seared her. “We’ll get to both, I promise you. But right now, I’m thinking about protection.” He laid her on the bed and opened a drawer in the nightstand.

Shock moved through her as she realized that she hadn’t thought about it, not even once. But even that thought faded as she watched him tear open a foil package and sheath his erection. He was beautiful and she could feel the throbbing begin again just looking at him.

Then he was on the bed, drawing her legs apart and settling himself between them. He braced himself over her, filling her vision, her world.

“I can’t wait any longer, Drew.”

She wasn’t going to complain. Not when she felt the urgent evidence of his desire pressing against her. She arched, taking just a little of him into her. Need sliced through her making her arch again. “More.”