Faking It to Making It

Saskia hoped he had no clue about the button he’d just pushed. That she was sitting there humming with the desperate need to know what he needed. What any man needed. She’d been searching for that answer her whole damn life, without success, and Nate was about to hand her the key.

She nodded, even while the look in his eyes told her she was agreeing to way more than she could ever have bargained for.

“I took the day off today.”

She found herself oddly disappointed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said with a low rumble of laughter. “I didn’t go to work. That’s the first weekday I’ve had off work in seven years. I looked it up. That’s what I spent an hour of my first day off in seven years doing—looking up how long it had been since the last time I’d played hooky.”

“So why did you play hooky?”

“You. Badgering me about relaxing more.”

She got two raised eyebrows with that, which she could only meet with blank shock.

“And partly because I’ve known for a long time if I don’t ease back I’m going to burn out. So I thought about going fishing, even drove down to the pier at Sorrento with grand ideas of dropping a line for squid. Turns out I’m a total wimp—it was just too damn cold so I turned around and came home. And of all the things I could have done with my day I came here. To see you. Do this.”

He reached out and ran a hand down her hair. A curl gripped his finger before he gave it a gentle tug.

“And this.”

His hand moved to her neck. His eyes followed as his thumb ran down her throat.

“And this.”

His hand roved over her shoulder, sliding her oversized sweater right along with it till her shoulder was bare. He swept his thumb over her collarbone and she shivered, pleasure pulsing through her.

With that he grabbed the arms of her chair and tugged till it was between his thighs. Anticipation raged inside her. It had been building since that night at the bar, and she’d used up the last of her resistance.

“Kiss me,” he insisted.

She didn’t need to be asked twice. She was in his lap, her hands in his hair, her mouth on his, before he took his next breath.

No testing this time. No figuring one another out. They just opened to one another—mouths, lips, teeth, tongues, breath intertwining as sexual tension wrapped about them like a tight coil.

Then, with a final slow swipe of his tongue along hers, Nate pulled back, his forehead leaning on hers. Their stilted breaths matched, mingled.

“Are we done here?” he asked, his voice like an echo deep inside a cavern.

“In what capacity?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about other women.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Good.”

Then, with a speed that defied the guy’s impressive size, Nate slid an arm beneath her and lifted her into his arms. With a wholly unladylike whoop Saskia flailed her legs madly and she gripped his neck so hard she was sure she’d leave a mark.

His eyes slid to hers, dark, devilish, dangerous. “I’d be very happy to sweep everything off that desk of yours right about now.”

“No!” The computers were leased, and she’d never get her notes back into order! “My room!” she said, pointing the way.

Nate hitched her as if she weighed next to nothing. “No, wait, it’s being painted.” She tugged at the near-dry curl curving against her cheek.

“Sasssskia...” he growled.

“What?”

The glint in his eye said everything.

“Screw it,” she said, and wriggled out of his strong arms.

She pressed him right to the wall in the hall, tugged at his sweater, her mouth going dry at the flash of sinew and muscle, the smattering of golden hair on his chest, the darker trail curling about his navel before disappearing down the front of his jeans, and the eye-popping bulge a few inches lower.

She practically tore his T over his head, her hands at his chest, running eagerly down the bumps and planes. Her mouth followed, revelling in his taste, his insane heat, the thunder of his heart.

When she reached Nate’s belt line he had other ideas.

He spun her about, pressing her against the wall, making a newly hung picture down the hall bounce precariously. Nate braced his hand against the wall by her head, wrapped the other around her back. The press of his hard body left her in no doubt as to how much he wanted this. Wanted her.

Desire rose inside her, scraping at her insides.

She slid a hand behind his neck, lifted onto her toes and kissed him for all she was worth.

“Why do you always taste so amazing?” he groaned against her neck.