e hoped nothing was wrong. Any hope he’d had of coming up with a clever column idea had vanished with the sound of her car pulling into the driveway. All his energy was turned toward keeping himself from going to her.

No matter how hard he tried, he hadn’t been able to put her out of his mind since Saturday night. He kept remembering things. Like the unexpectedly sensual way she danced. And the heat of her response to his kisses. Even now he could feel a responsive warmth coursing through him.

So much fire. So much passion. And she kept it all so deeply banked.

Frustrated with his lack of progress—in work and in putting Teresa out of his mind—he stood and walked downstairs, thinking he would make a pot of coffee. Maybe the bite of caffeine would counteract the sweetness of the jelly beans.

He didn’t know how he ended up at the front door when he’d intended to go to the kitchen. Even as he stepped outside into the breezy afternoon air, he asked himself what on earth he was doing.

This was no way to get over her.

Teresa had been sitting in her living room, trying to read but finding it very difficult to concentrate. She was home a little earlier than usual. The lunch rush had fizzled to just a few lingering customers, and Marjorie had urged her to go home.

“You look tired,” she had said. “Go spend a little quiet time before the children get home. Take a bubble bath. Read a good book. Rest.”

Rest. Something Teresa hadn’t gotten enough of lately. She’d spent entirely too many hours lying wide-eyed in bed, replaying every minute of Saturday night.

The hour and a half before her children were due home stretched in front of her. Maybe she should have stayed at the diner and helped Marjorie set up for breakfast in the morning. At least that would have kept her too busy to think.

The knock on her door almost made her heart stop, because she knew who was on the other side. He’d been staying away since their date—whether to give her some space or because he’d finally accepted there was no chance of anything happening between them, she couldn’t say.

Wiping her hands down the front of her khaki slacks, she drew a deep breath and opened the door.

Riley stood on the stoop, one hand resting on the doorjamb. The brisk breeze tossed his longish brown hair around his lean face and into his silvery-gray eyes. He wore a long-sleeve black T-shirt and faded jeans, and he looked young and lean—and, for the first time since she’d met him, just a little bit intimidating. Maybe it was his brooding expression. The hard set of his jaw. Or the glint of what might have been anger in his eyes.

Afraid that he’d heard bad news, she asked with her heart in her throat, “What’s wrong?”

“It isn’t working.”

“What isn’t working?”

“I’ve been trying to convince myself to stay away from you. But I keep remembering how good we are together. Thinking about how good we could be.”

Her knees threatened to go weak. “I thought we agreed—”

“This is what we agree on,” he muttered, pulling her somewhat roughly into his arms.

Without giving herself time to think about it, she met the kiss halfway, her hands going to his shoulders.

She heard him kick the door closed behind him. Felt the bunching of muscles in his arms and torso as he gathered her closer. The tension in him was palpable, the hunger unmistakable. She couldn’t have resisted him just then if she’d tried.

She didn’t try.

He rained kisses over her face, nuzzled her throat, nipped at the lobe of her ear. “How long do we have?” he asked in a mutter.

“Just over an hour,” she whispered.

“It’s not enough.” He kissed her mouth again, a long, deep, drugging kiss. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

They barely made it up the stairs. They stopped every few feet to kiss, to explore, to pleasure. By the time they reached her bed, they were both panting, their clothes already half off. Riley swept the spread out of the way, then tumbled her onto the sheets, falling on top of her. She’d already lost the clip that had held her hair; he buried his fingers in the soft waves and crushed her mouth beneath his.

She got rid of his pullover, baring his chest to her eager hands. His skin was warm and smooth, stretched tautly over muscles that were rather surprisingly well-defined, considering his sleek physique. He wasn’t exactly the indolent couch potato he liked to pretend to be.

There were a lot of things about Riley that weren’t quite what they seemed.

Having dispensed with her shirt, he skillfully released the clasp of her bra. There wasn’t time to be self-conscious about her nudity; his hands and mouth were already covering her, driving inhibitions out of her mind. Her back arched, her fingers clenching in his hair. His teeth closed lightly around her nipple and she gasped, sensations shooting through her to sensitize every inch of her body.

Still paying exquisite attention to her breast, he ran a hand down her stomach and inside the unsnapped front of her jeans, his fingertips sliding beneath the elastic top of her panties. When he reached the damp heat between her legs, she nearly erupted from the bed.

Tags: Gina Wilkins Hot off the Press! Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net