Текст книги "Savor"

Автор книги: Monica Murphy

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“You shouldn’t. We encouraged you.” Ivy sighs as well. “I feel like a jerk too.”

“I’ll wear the dress. But I won’t try and flaunt myself in front of Matt or anything. It’s wrong. He doesn’t need that sort of trouble or guilt.” I kick at a rock, feeling crappy for doing the right thing.

“You amaze me, you know that? Matt’s lucky to have you by his side.”

“I really hope he feels that way,” I say, my heart twisting in my chest.

Matt

MATT’S LUCKY TO have you by his side.

I really hope he feels that way.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on Bryn and Ivy’s conversation, but I came upon it by accident. And when I realized they were talking about me—and specifically my dad—I had to stick around and hear what they said.

I hated hearing what Ivy said about Dad but there’s no denying that she spoke the truth. He is a slime ball and has a terrible reputation, one I try to distance myself from as much as possible.

That’s why I had to push Bryn away last night. I couldn’t take that amazing kiss we shared any further no matter how badly I wanted to. And damn, I really wanted to.

Listening to Bryn say she felt like a jerk over what happened last night made me realize that she wanted it as bad as I did. I’d firmly believed I’d pushed myself on her. After she left without saying a word, my concentration had been shot, and I’d closed up shop. Drove home frustrated and horny, going over what happened between Bryn and me over and over again, trying to figure out how exactly how I let it happen. That kiss. Pulling Bryn into my arms. Touching her.

Yeah. A huge mistake, not one I can forget easily either.

It had been tremendously hard having to face her this morning, though somehow she made it easier on me by appearing in a beige outfit again, hardly looking at me, like I scared her. This Bryn I knew and understood, or so I thought. I’d been dealing with wallpaper Bryn for months and I was used to her like this.

It’s gorgeous, elegant, sexy-as-fuck Bryn that does me in and makes my head spin. Not only does she look amazing, but she becomes bolder with the stylish clothes and the beautiful hair. She moves with confidence, looks me in the eye, talks to me.

Seeing her this morning in her usual beige getup tripped me up but only momentarily. Hearing her voice, watching her, and all I saw was the real woman behind the facade. She can hide all she wants in drab colors and severe hairstyles; I know who she is beneath the surface.

And I want more despite wanting to do the right thing.

She confuses me. I thought by pushing her away, it would solve all my problems. Instead, I feel like I have a whole bunch more.

Moving away from where Ivy and Bryn are still talking, I head toward my car and take off, going to my last quick appointment for the day, a meeting at my local bank with a possible investor.

My cell rings not two minutes after I pull out of the winery’s parking lot and I check the screen to see it’s my father. Speak of the devil. It’s like the old man could sense someone was talking about him, thinking about him. Against my better judgment, I answer it—best to face him now than prolong it and have him harassing me tomorrow.

“Son.” Vinnie’s voice booms through the speakers of my car since I have my phone on Bluetooth. “It’s been a long time.”

He always acts like there’s no reason we haven’t spoken for months. “What’s going on?” I ask, cutting right to the point.

“Ah, you’re always full of the kindness for your old man, aren’t you?” Vinnie chuckles, and I grit my teeth, wanting to hang up on him so bad it’s killing me. “So I hear your fancy winery is having its reopening tomorrow.”

“It sure is.” He’s never shown one iota of interest in the winery other than when I told him I bought it, and he said “that’s nice” in his usual distracted, completely self-absorbed voice.

We never discussed it again.

“I was hoping I could get an invite.”

Unease slips down my spine, and I clear my throat. “I thought you were more of a hard liquor fan,” I say, trying to sound like I’m joking.

“Well, I’m not a big drinker of wine, I agree, but I want to be there when my only son shows off his new winery. It’s going to be a proud moment, I’m sure.”

A proud moment I absolutely one hundred percent don’t want him to be a part of. “Are you sure you want to come? It’ll be boring. Hardly anyone there that you know besides my friends.”

“Anyone from baseball?” he asks.

Yeah. A few people, and I definitely don’t want him around them. He tends to get in heated arguments whenever they discuss baseball and specifically his past in both the game and the league.

But shit, how can I refuse him? He’s my father.

“A small handful but not a lot,” I tell him, keeping my gaze focused on the road ahead of me. I hadn’t even bothered sending him an invitation for tomorrow. I wonder if he’s pissed. I wonder if this is some strange way for him to get revenge on me for ignoring him.

I wouldn’t put it past my father. He’s just that type of guy.

“I saw a write up in the paper,” he explains. He still lives in the Bay Area, having been born and raised there. We were both lucky to be included in professional teams close to where we grew up. My dad always attributed it to the DeLuca curse—an apt word considering how crappy both of our pro careers became. “And realized this was going down tomorrow. I won’t be able to attend the day events—I saw you’re doing a tour and a wine tasting and all that good stuff—but I’d love to show up at the party tomorrow night if you’ll have me.”

“That can be arranged,” I say, regret filling me in an instant. I hope this isn’t a mistake.

“Great, good! I can’t wait to see you. It’s been far too long, son. I miss you.”

Yeah, right. “It’ll be good to see you too, but you do understand I’m going to be busy the entire night and won’t have much time for miscellaneous chitchat.” I won’t have much time for his calculated reminiscing over our sometimes troubled past either. He loves to do that too and push me into a guilt spiral.

Our relationship is twenty levels of fucked up, I swear.

“I understand completely,” he assures me. “I’ll just be there basking in your glory, always the proud father. I won’t disrupt your little party tomorrow night, I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

That he’s describing tomorrow’s event as “my little party” already sets me on edge, the asshole. I swear he says those sorts of things on purpose. I don’t believe a word he says.

And I hate that I feel this way.

After he hangs up, I ponder over how I can handle the problem that is my father. I wonder if Bryn would help me. But if I set Bryn in my dad’s sights, he’ll probably try and make a pass and she’ll end up beyond insulted.

Yeah. That’s a risk I really don’t want to take. Do I have a choice though? It’s like my dad needs a babysitter and only a specialized few will do.

Still, I definitely don’t want to subject Bryn to my rude bastard of a father.

Chapter Six

Matt

“THE PLACE LOOKS fabulous, man.” Archer slaps me on the back so hard, I take a step forward, wincing when pain shoots through my knee. It still hurts. It’ll always hurt. “You pulled it off. I bet everybody will have DeLuca Winery falling from their lips come tomorrow.”

“Thanks, but the party only just started,” I say, ever the grim reaper as I worry about anything and everything. The grounds are crowded with people, the lot filled with cars, including the dirt field we opened up specifically for the event.

My father still hasn’t arrived which worries the shit out of me, but I can’t sweat it. Maybe he’ll never come at all. I figure I won’t be that lucky. He knows how to put a damper on any party, big or small.

The image of my father crashing into the party, loud and drunk and making me look like a fool has set me on edge. I need to do something to take that edge off and quick.

“You’re all gloom and doom today, asshole. Perk up. Life is good,” Gage says, saluting me with his glass before he takes a swallow of a DeLuca Cabernet.

“Don’t be so mean,” Marina chastises as she slips her arm through Gage’s. “It’s an amazing party, Matt. I know everyone’s impressed.”

“Thanks, Marina.” Her words mean a lot to me since she comes from one of the oldest families in the area. If anyone knows what’s going on in the Napa Valley, it’s Marina Knight. That I can impress her and she hears nothing but good things from those she knows, lets me breathe easier.

A little bit easier, at least.

My name is on the label, on the sign out front, on the building. It’s a surreal feeling, finally seeing the fruition of months and months of hard labor, sweat, and tears.

The day’s events came off without a hitch. The tour was a success, heavily attended by many, including plenty of local media. The wine tasting had been a nerve-wracking experience but soon turned into complete relief. Almost everyone enjoyed what they sampled, though there had been a few naysayers, but that was to be expected.

Bryn led the tasting, composed and elegant and thoughtful and amusing. She’d enraptured everyone, talking so enthusiastically about the wine and the DeLuca name and what it’s going to mean to the Napa Valley in the coming years. Hell, even I believed my own hype.

She’d been utter perfection, and I never got a chance to thank or praise her. I still haven’t seen her arrive tonight and that surprised me. I figured she’d be here already.

I need her to be here already.

Gage and Marina head for one of food tables, and I glance around, checking out the crowd. I notice that the small live band is tuning up and getting ready to play. The weather tonight is perfect, not too cold, though I have outdoor heaters going on low to fill the air with warmth. There’s a gentle breeze rustling the majestic oaks that are all over the property. White lights are strung in the trees surrounding the courtyard, illuminating the party without being too bright. There are bars set up on each corner of the courtyard, and they all have long lines, everyone wanting a glass of one of the new DeLuca wines. Servers move through the crowds with their trays, offering appetizers or flutes of sparkling wine.

It has all come together so perfectly, and I owe a lot of that to Bryn. But where is she?

“Matt! Your party is fabulous.” Ivy comes at me, her pregnant belly so obvious it’s preceding her. Archer stands at her side as she comes for me, enveloping me in a perfume-scented hug. “I can’t believe how beautiful everything looks. Where’s Bryn? I wanted to praise her too. I know she’s done so much for you.”

“She has. And you’ve done an amazing job too you know.” I kiss her cheek before I let her go, thankful for all her decorating input. Everything looks freaking amazing because of her. Her design skills and expertise were just what I needed to ensure the grounds and the interiors looked modern yet stayed true to the authenticity of the winery in times past.

“I’m so glad you like it.” She smiles, then notices Marina and Gage waiting in line. “I’ll be right back. I want to talk to Marina.”

Archer and I watch her go before Archer turns to me, a knowing smile on his smug-as-hell face. “Been diddling the help yet?”

Unease slips down my spine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ah, don’t pretend with me. I know your assistant has the hots for you, and I hear the feeling’s mutual.” Archer takes a sip from his glass. “Ivy talks. Her and your Miss James have become awfully close.”

“What did Ivy tell you?” No way did Bryn tell Ivy about what happened a few nights ago, when I kissed her then pushed her away.

“Not a whole hell of a lot. Just that the two of you have been circling around each other in the office for far too long and that Bryn finally got herself a new wardrobe and some courage. I hear the dress she’s wearing tonight is a plan to knock you completely on your ass with lust for her,” Archer warns.

I swallow hard. Great. So she’s going to be wearing a dress that makes her look like utter perfection? I can withstand that. No problem.

Shit, I hope I can.

She hadn’t worn an uninspired beige outfit earlier today, and I was thankful for it, though she impressed me so damn much I probably wouldn’t have even noticed. She’d shown up dressed to perfection in a fitted deep purple dress, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail that wasn’t so severe as her usual hairstyle. She’d looked beautiful. Assured and elegant, she was a fine representative of the DeLuca Winery.

“She’s my assistant, nothing else,” I tell Archer, needing to convince myself as well. “I know you’ve seen the pictures of when she got the makeover and you’ve given me endless shit, but I can’t do anything about it. She works for me. I won’t risk anything between us for fear it could go horribly wrong in an instant. She could turn against me and ruin my ass. Get me on sexual harassment charges or whatever.”

“Oh, I get it. Tell that to Ivy though, since she’s still hell bent on getting the two of you together,” Archer says, his gaze roaming lazily over the crowd much as mine had only a few moments ago. “Hey, isn’t that her? Your Bryn?”

I jerk my gaze to where Archer’s staring, and I do a double take, my eyes widening when I see her.

Damn, she’s . . . unbelievably gorgeous. I thought she was hot when she showed up in that black printed dress on Monday but right now, she’s just fucking beautiful. There are no other words for it.

“That’s her,” I say, watching as she walks the far parameter of the courtyard, her head turning this way and that as she seemingly takes everything in. A small smile curves her plum-colored lips and she pushes her long, inky colored hair over her shoulder, stopping to talk to someone, laughing at whatever he said before she pats the man on the shoulder and keeps moving.

Jealousy moves through me, and I tell myself to knock it off. She can look at and talk to other people, especially if we’re not together. Hell, even if we were together, I have no right to tell her what to do or who she talks to.

But I’d like that right. I sound like a complete Neanderthal but damn it, I want Bryn to be mine.

Still.

“She’s a fucking looker man,” Archer utters. “I’d get it if you gave up the million bucks for a piece of that.”

Fury burns through my blood, and I glare at Archer. “Don’t talk about her like that, you bastard. You could at least show the woman some respect,” I tell him, my voice like steel.

“Ah, don’t get your panties all twisted,” Archer says, smiling as he shakes his head. “I love how caveman we all get when we’re with the women we love.”

“I never said I was in love with Bryn.” I’ve worked with her for six months and have only just noticed her as a woman, though her scent has been driving me crazy pretty much since day one. But there’s absolutely no way I’m in love with her. It’s way too freaking soon for that.

I can’t deny that I’m attracted to her though. Ever since that kiss, I can’t stop remembering what she tastes like—how she felt in my arms.

“Yeah, well you’re looking at her like you want to lick her from head to toe.” Archer laughs when I glare at him. He cut too close to the truth. “See? You like her, DeLuca. It’s okay. You can admit it. And as soon as the two of you fall into bed together, make sure you let us know so we can rescind the bet and let it die a happy, empty death.”

“Hell, no. I’m going to win that bet, no matter what,” I say with utter conviction.

“Keep dreaming,” Archer says, clapping me on the back much like Gage had done earlier. Only this time, I keep my footing. “It’s about damn time we see you show some interest in a girl. You’ve been celibate for far too long.”

I don’t even notice when Archer moves away from me. I keep my gaze locked on Bryn as she moves through the crowd, crossing the courtyard, seemingly coming right for me. The dress she’s wearing fits her like a dream. A daringly bold magenta color, it stands out in the crowd of mostly black. The silky fabric clings lovingly to her breasts and hips. Her shoulders are exposed, the straps are thin and the skirt ends just above her knee in a gentle flare.

The color is beautiful on her, bringing out the flush in her cheeks. Her hair is done: long, wavy black-as-midnight locks. She spots me and a secretive little smile curves her lush lips as she approaches on silvery colored stiletto sandals that shimmer in the light.

She looks like a fucking fairy princess brought to me just for this night. I’m tempted to take her hand, say screw the party and find somewhere private where we can be alone and naked together.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Bryn James. That’s what the hell is wrong with me. The problem? I like this problem. Hell, I’m reveling in it. I shouldn’t want her, but I do. I shouldn’t think about her in this manner but I can’t stop. Hell, I even dream about her.

Sweaty, wicked dreams that leave me aching for her every time I wake.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says stopping in front of me. Her scent carries on the breeze, deliciously sweet, and I inhale as discreetly as possible. My dick twitches, and I will it down. Now is absolutely not the time, but it has other plans, every one of them involving me and Bryn and the two of us naked. “I had to get home and change real quick, and traffic was a nightmare getting back out here.”

“You haven’t missed much,” I tell her, letting my gaze blatantly roam over her before it settles on her chest. All that exposed skin is a fucking distraction. “You look amazing.”

The smile grows and my body tightens in reaction. “So do you.”

I’m wearing a suit, and I’m as uncomfortable as ever, but I’ll take her compliment. “Thanks. Did I tell you I thought you did a fantastic job earlier at the wine tasting?”

“Oh really? No, we never talked, and I was sort of nervous over it all.” Her gaze grows earnest as she watches me. “You really thought I did a good job?” She sounds surprised at my praise. Doesn’t she realize her worth, both to the business and . . . to me?

Maybe not.

“You led the group expertly and spoke so highly of the winery. You were perfect.” I smile, fighting to the urge to touch her.

Relief crosses her face. “Whew. Thank God. I really was worried.”

“I don’t know why. You were composed and handled yourself well. I honestly don’t think you could ever disappoint me,” I say before I can stop myself.

Her expression softens, her eyes sparkling with some unknown emotion. Christ, she’s gorgeous and sweet and reminding me of that night when I not-so-accidentally kissed her. “Thank you, Matt. That means a lot to me, that you would say that.” She pauses, her gaze tearing from mine so she can watch the party unfold before us. “You’ve done such a fabulous job of putting this all together. Everything looks so beautiful.”

“It does look good, doesn’t it? And you had plenty to do with putting this together as well, you know.” I glance around, pride suffusing me. Everyone definitely looks like they’re enjoying themselves. But we still have hours to go.

“Hard to believe the day is almost over,” she says, sinking her teeth into her lower lip as she turns her gaze on me once more.

Hell. I want to grab her again. Kiss her until she can’t see straight, until I can’t freaking see straight. Having her here standing by my side, wearing a dress that should probably be illegal is pushing me past my limits.

I want to get her alone. Now.

Really?

Really.

“Do you mind coming with me to my office real quick?” I ask, my brain scrambling for an excuse. I shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t ditch the party; the most important night of my life.

A night that could be ruined if my father does show and does something stupid which he’s an expert at.

She frowns. “What for?”

“I forgot something in there, and I need your help to find it.” Lame as hell, but I don’t care. I’m filled with the need to be with her. Alone. Just for a moment.

“Um, okay. Do you think it’s smart for the both of us to leave the party at the same time?” Bryn looks unsure, but I can’t let that bother me now.

Taking her hand, I lead her toward the office building, savoring how her fingers clasp mine. “It’ll only be for a few minutes. Besides, there are other employees out mingling, and Archer loves to keep an eye on everything.”

Bryn doesn’t reply.

We enter the building, though I don’t bother turning on the lights; the countless strands of lights outside illuminate the interior well enough. I take Bryn to my office, letting go of her hand when we enter.

“What exactly are you looking for you so I can help you?” she asks.

Guilt gnaws at me for the ruse, but I push it aside. Fuck it. “I didn’t lose anything, Bryn. I just . . . wanted to get you alone.”

She parts her lips as she stares at me but doesn’t say a word.

Her silence prompts me to go for it.

Finally.

Bryn

“I SHOULDN’T DO this.” Matt says, coming right at me, one determined step after another, and I slowly start to back up, fear and excitement bubbling up inside me, making it hard to think clearly.

“Shouldn’t do what?” I lift my chin, my gaze meeting his, and I can see all the turbulent, confusing emotions in his eyes, the grim set of his jaw and usually lush mouth. The man means business, what sort of business I’m not exactly sure, but I can take a guess. Increasing my pace, I take hurried backward steps to get away from all that handsome intensity coming at me until my butt meets the wall.

I’m trapped. And in the best possible place too.

In his office, alone with him and in the dark, right back where we started.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy since the minute you arrived tonight,” he practically growls, stopping just in front of me.

I have? I want to ask, but I keep my lips clamped tight. I only just got here and besides, he never seems to notice me, not that I really want him to now. Not after the fiasco that went down a few nights ago.

Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

“I don’t understand how I could be, considering I just got here,” I say, panic flaring within me when his eyes darken.

Do I want this? I try so hard to earn his respect and I let myself end up in these dangerous situations. I’m beyond confused. I want my boss to value me as an employee, but I also want him to see me. Really see me. Not just as the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.

I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.

For one shining moment, he did. It ended disastrously, but here I am, alone with him yet again.

Playing with fire.

The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt’s gaze.

“Trust me. You’re a distraction I absolutely do not need,” he says, his voice low. Sexy.

A tremble moves through me, but I stand my ground. “I’ve done nothing but work my tail off for you the entire day, so please don’t tell me you’re suddenly angry with me now,” I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our ridiculous situation. The push and pull is getting old, and I’m not sure I can take it much longer.

I’m tired, I’ve done nothing but live and breathe this winery reopening for the last few weeks if not months, and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed when I’ve only just arrived here. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.

But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn’t be any sleeping involved—just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex.

My entire body flushes at the thought.

“And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me, Bryn, really I do,” he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he’s actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.

Our relationship isn’t like this. Strictly professional is how we’ve kept it, minus the one incident we haven’t really talked about. I can still taste his lips on mine, not that I’d ever bring it up now.

His last remark though was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .

Oh. My.

My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.

God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.

Yeah. Again I sound like those romance novels. The ones I used to find on my grandma’s bedside table when I was young. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could that actually occur in real life.

But I’m feeling it. Right now. Again. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me makes me think he’s feeling it too.

“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound is our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.

Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon.

I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before but not like this. Never like this. The first time was an accident and had turned into an opportunity—a rushed opportunity that had ultimately ended in utter disappointment.

I don’t want to risk that again. I don’t know if I could survive it again.

But I want it. I want him.

“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.

“Thank you,” I say because I don’t know what else to do. I crack my eyes open to find he’s moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.

“It’s taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you,” he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I’m suddenly achingly aware of what little clothing I’m wearing. No bra, no panties . . .

My dress is the only barrier between Matt’s hands and my skin.

God, I want that. I do. I want to feel his hands roam all over me. I want his mouth on mine, I want his mouth everywhere. I’m tired of resisting him, especially when he so clearly wants me as much as I want him.

For once, I’m going to be bold. I want to see what he does when I invite him to do exactly what he wants to me.

“What’s stopping you? We’ve already kissed before.” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.

But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We’ve been dancing around this attraction, especially the last few days, and it feels like we’re finally giving in. Again.

Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.

Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.

“I’m stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing conclusion to our conversation.

He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts and worries and concerns, until I’m consumed by the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, overwhelms me, and when he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth, I’m lost.

And only Matt will be able to find me.

When he breaks the kiss to slide his mouth down the length of my neck, his low, sexy growl makes my insides flutter. He sounds like he’s barely keeping himself in control, and I reach out, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair like I enjoy doing. His hair is so thick and soft, the strands cling to my fingers, and I feel like I can’t get enough of him.

The way he’s kissing me makes me think he can’t get enough of me either. His mouth returns to mine and devours me. The kiss so hot, wet, and deep, I feel completely and utterly consumed.

I love it. I want more. I cling to him, mold my body to his and wish he would slip his hands beneath my dress. I want to witness his discovery that I’m wearing no bra, no panties, no nothing beneath it.

I have a feeling he’d be rather pleased with that revelation.

“Jesus, Bryn, you feel good,” he says when we come up for air. His hand is roaming, rising from where it rests on my waist to slide up, over my ribcage to rest just beneath my breast. He pulls away slightly, catching sight of my nipples pebbling painfully beneath the silky fabric of my dress, and he lifts his other hand. Traces the deep V neckline of my dress with his fingertip, his touch feather-light as he brushes my skin, causing skitters to rush across it.

Sighing, I close my eyes, savoring his bold, yet delicate touch. He slips his hand beneath the fabric, covering my right breast with just his fingers and makes a rough sound of pleasure at finding me braless.

His calloused fingers play with my nipple, driving me crazy with need, and I drop my arms from around his neck, arching into his touch as I keep my eyes tightly closed. I’m almost afraid to look at him for fear he’ll abandon me once he realizes what we’re doing.

And then he’s kissing me yet again, his hands moving up to cup my face, holding me still. I want to melt. His thumbs brush across my cheeks, his touch gentle, the way he cups my face almost as if he . . . cherishes me. No man has ever held me like this, kissed me like this before. I wrap my arms around his waist, clinging to him, whispering against his lips please don’t stop, don’t ever stop, when he stills. Lifts his head from mine and cocks his ear toward the window.