Any Way You Want It (33 page)

He took another step closer, and her breath suddenly felt trapped inside her chest. So much for being brazen.

“It is a simple riding lesson,” he said. “Not a corporate merger. So what if there is more? I don’t really see a conflict of interest here.”

“You’re a close friend of my boss.”

He stepped closer still. It was a small room to begin with. He was definitely invading her personal space. Again.

“And you’re not planning on staying here long term anyway, right?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Meaning that as potential conflicts go, that one is temporary at best. As is anything that may happen between us. No commitments, right?” His voice was all just-rolled-out-of-bed rough.

“What are you saying, then?” she asked, tipping her chin up slightly as he shifted closer. She felt the bridle rack at her back. “What is it you want?”

“I just want to learn to ride.” His lips curved then, and her thigh—or more accurately, the muscles between them—suddenly felt a whole lot wobbly.

His eyes were so dark, so deep, she swore she could fall right into them and never climb back out. And that smile made it dizzyingly clear that horses weren’t the only thing he was interested in riding.

It was too early in the day for this. She couldn’t handle this kind of full-out assault on her senses.

Or on her mind. Or…hell, what part of her didn’t he affect? He muddled her up far to easily.

Muddled was definitely not what she needed to be right now.

But when he lifted his hand, barely brushing the underside of her chin with his fingertips, and tipped her head back a bit further…she let him.

“I think about you,” he said, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper.

Her skin tingled as if the words themselves had brushed against her.

“Too often. You distract me.”

“And that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s…an unexpected thing.”

She wasn’t sure what to think about that. And his neutral tone made it impossible to decipher how he felt about it. “So, this is…what? An attempt to exorcise me from your thoughts?”

His smile broadened as his mouth lowered slowly toward hers. “Either that, or make all this distraction a lot more worthwhile.”

She had a split second to decide whether to let him kiss her, and spent a moment lying to herself that she was actually strong enough to do the right thing and turn her head away. Who was she kidding? Her body was fairly humming in anticipation and it was all she could do to refrain from grabbing his head and hurrying him the hell up.

Like he said. It was just a kiss. Not a contract.

His lips brushed across hers. Warm, a little soft, but the right amount of firm. He slid his fingers along the back of her neck, beneath the heavy braid that swung there, sending a delicious little shiver all the way down her spine at the contact.

He dropped another whisper of a kiss across her lips, then another, inviting her to participate, clearly not going any further unless she did. She respected that, a lot, even though part of her wished he’d taken the decision out of her hands. It would make all the self-castigation later much easier to avoid. Given his aversion to commitment, somehow she figured he knew that. They were either in it together, or not at all.

He lifted his head just enough to look into her eyes, a silent question in his own. Will you, or won’t you?

She held his gaze for what felt like all eternity, then slowly lowered her eyelids as she closed the distance between them and kissed him back.

Don’t miss Jill Shalvis’s

STRONG AND SEXY,

out this month from Brava…

“W hy do you look so familiar?” His mouth was close to her ear, close enough to cause a whole series of hopeful shivers to rack her body. He was rock-solid against her, all corded muscle and testosterone.

Lots of testosterone.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, still hoping for a big hole to take her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Completely.” Except, you know, not.

“Because I can’t help but think I’m missing something here.”

Yes, yes, he was missing something. He’d missed her whole pathetic attempt at a kiss seduction, for instance. And the fact that she was totally, one hundred percent out of her league here with him. But his eyes were deep, so very deep, and leveled right on hers, evenly, patiently, giving her the sense that he was always even, always patient. Never rattled or ruffled.

She wanted to be never rattle or ruffled.

“Am I?” His thumb glided over her skin, sending all her erogenous zones into tap-dance mode.

“Missing something?”

“Yes. N–no. I mean…”

He smiled. And not just a curving of his lips, but with his whole face. His eyes lit, those laugh lines fanned out, and damn, that sexy dimple. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Definitely missing something.”

“I’m a little crazy tonight,” she admitted.

“A little crazy once in a while isn’t a bad thing.”

Oh boy. She’d bet the bank he knew how to coax a woman into doing a whole host of crazy stuff.

Just the thought made her feel a little warm, and a nervous laugh escaped.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

She had to let out another laugh, but he didn’t as he traced a finger over her lower lip. “You are.”

Beautiful? Or crazy?

“You going to tell me what brought you to this closet?”

“I was garnering my courage.”

“For?”

Well wasn’t that just the question of the night, as there were so many, many things she’d needed courage for, not the least of which was standing here in front of him and telling him what she really wanted. A kiss…

“Talk to me.”

She licked her lips. “There’s a man and a woman in that first office down the hall. Together. And they’re…not talking.”

“Ah.” A fond smile crossed his mouth. “You must have found Noah and Bailey. They’ve just come home from their honeymoon. So yeah, I seriously doubt they’re…talking.”

“Yeah. See…” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I was hoping for that.”

“Talking.”

“No. The not talking.”

Silence.

And then more silence.

Oh, God.

Slowly she tipped her head up and looked at him, but he wasn’t laughing at her.

A good start, she figured.

In fact, his eyes were no longer smiling at all, but full of a heart-stopping heat. “Can you repeat that request?” he asked.

Well, yes, she could, but it would make his possible rejection that much harder to take. “I was wondering what your stance was on being seduced by a woman who isn’t really so good at this sort of thing, but wants to be better…”

He blinked. “Just to be clear.” His voice was soft, gravelly, and did things to every erogenous zone in her body. “Is this you coming on to me?”

“Oh, God.” She covered her face. “If you don’t know, then I’m even worse at this than I thought.

Yes. Yes, that’s what I’m pathetically attempting to do. Come on to you, a complete stranger in a closet, but now I’m hearing it as you must be hearing it, and I sound like the lunatic that everyone thinks I am, and—”

His hands settled on her bare arms, gliding up, down, and then back up again, over her shoulders to her face, where he gently pulled her hands away so he could see her.

“I saw the mistletoe,” she rushed to explain. “It’s everywhere. And people were kissing. And I couldn’t get kissing off my mind…God. Forget it, okay? Just forget me.” She took a step back, but because this was her, she tripped over something on the floor behind her. She’d have fallen on her ass if he hadn’t held her upright. “Thanks,” she managed. “But I need to go now. I really need to go—”

He put a finger to her lips.

Right. Stop talking. Good idea.

His eyes, still hot, and also a little amused—because that’s what she wanted to see in a man’s eyes after she’d tried to seduce him, amusement—locked onto hers. She couldn’t look away.

There was just something about the way he was taking her in, as if he could see so much more than she’d intended him to. “Seriously. I’ve—”

He turned away.

Okaaaay…“Got to go.”

But he was rustling through one of the shelves. Then he bent to look lower and she tried not to look at his butt. She failed, of course. “Um, yeah. So I’ll see you around.” Or not. Hopefully not—

“Got it.” Straightening, he revealed what he held—a sprig of mistletoe.

“Oh,” she breathed. Her heart skipped a beat, then raced, beating so loud and hard she couldn’t hear anything but the blood pumping through her veins.

His mouth quirked slightly, but his eyes held hers, and in them wasn’t amusement so much as…

Pure staggering heat.

“Did you change your mind?” he asked.

Was he kidding? She wanted to jump him. Now. “No.”

With a smile that turned her bones to mush, he raised his arm so that the mistletoe was above their heads.

Oh, God.

“Your move,” he whispered.

She looked at his mouth, her own tingling in anticipation. “Maybe you could…”

“Oh, no. I’m not taking advantage of a woman in a closet, drenched in champagne.” He smiled.

“But if she wanted to take advantage of me, now see, that’s a different story entirely.”

He was teasing her, his eyes lit with mischievousness and a wicked, wicked intent.

“I’m a klutz,” she whispered. “I might hurt you by accident.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and he closed his eyes and puckered up, making her laugh some more, making it okay for her to lean in…

And kiss him.

Tensions are running high

in Charlotte Mede’s

EXPLOSIVE,

available now from Brava…

“W hat exactly is the nature of your agreement with de Maupassant? Is it money? The promise of notoriety?”

Devon turned her head sharply to look up at him, absorbing the stark lines of his face, the wide mouth above the strong jawline. She pivoted gracefully in his arms, holding herself stiffly as though more conscious than ever of a confused upsurge of unwelcome sensations, of fear and desire. Blackburn felt her invoke her steeliest reserve.

“My relationship with Le Comte has nothing to do with us.”

“He has everything to do with us,” Blackburn muttered. “He’s thrown us together quite deliberately. And he’s prepared to give you access to the Eroica, despite your denials,” he said just as the orchestra struck up a lively minuet.

“It’s not that easy.” Her mouth was set in a firm line. “I don’t want or need your offer of money, or anybody else’s for that matter.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Mademoiselle. And I won’t take you for the innocent that you pretend to be,” he said in a softly uttered threat. “You know how to play Le Comte for a puppet, and you know exactly how to convince him to relinquish the score to you.”

The confusion and embarrassment clouding her eyes was a fine bit of acting, he thought, looking at her drift away from him a few steps, in perfect time with the music’s rhythm.

“Tell me, is Le Comte sparing with the purse strings?” he continued ruthlessly as his strong arms propelled her back toward him. “One should think those emeralds around your lovely neck would keep you satisfied. Or are you trying for diamonds?”

“Stop it,” she whispered under her breath, then in the next instant lifted her gaze to him boldly as though changing her mind. “Rubies, actually,” she said with a brittle voice. “I’m trying for rubies, if you must know.”

He didn’t like the answer or her bravado. “Then perhaps we should turn up the heat.”

She gave him a mockingly sweet smile, for his benefit or for their audience, he wasn’t sure. “And how do you propose we force Le Comte’s hand?” she asked.

“With the utmost discretion, of course,” he said, fooling neither her nor himself. “As strategies go, you of all people must know how potent the combination of seduction, jealousy, and deception can be, Mademoiselle,” he explained, his voice rough velvet as he led her from the center of the ballroom to the protective shadows of a grouping of leafy plants.

She was a tall woman but he still towered over her, backing her into a corner. In the wavering candlelight, he thought he glimpsed uncertainty and fear in her eyes as she refused to lower her gaze, staring steadily, courageously into his face. Vulnerability was difficult to feign and for a moment, Blackburn questioned his own powers of observation. He watched the tip of her tongue slide from her lips, the gesture deliberate, he didn’t know. All he knew was how his body reacted with a blast of heat.

As though to make it easier for her, his shadowed face moved fractionally closer as he slid his fingers deep into the mass of her hair to tilt her face upward. It was just one way to fight the battle, he persuaded himself, before taking her face in both palms. Her mouth trembled beneath his, moist, pliant, and intensely female.

The tension eased out of her by slow degrees as his lips brushed lightly against hers. Instead of drawing away, Devon drew unconsciously closer, her lashes lowered, closing her eyes. He teasingly nipped her lower lip, his tongue licking inside. She surrendered her mouth, opening to the voracity of his deepening kiss while the strains of violins and the protective covering of fronds receded in the distance.

More insistent and demanding, the pressure of Blackburn’s lips increased in a velvety heated stroking as his tongue suggestively explored, caressing her sweetness, tasting her mouth with a lazy greed. Slow and inexorably consuming, his mouth devoured hers until she gasped for breath.

He heard her groan as she pressed her breasts against him, oblivious to the sharp edges of the pilaster biting into her back, sighing against the succulence of their hot, ravenous play.

“We should have done this from the very first,” Blackburn whispered roughly, and plunged again for her pliant tongue as his hands stroked their way down her back and to the sides of her breasts.

Against his mouth, she whispered, “This makes no sense…” But she wound her arms around his neck, shuddering at the feel of his palms molding her breasts. She sank into his kisses, long, leisurely, wet incursions that left her so weak he had to hold her up in his arms.