My Guilty Pleasure. Jamie Denton
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glow of the dashboard lights, his eyes darkened. “Should I?”
She settled her hand on his arm. “It would be in your best interest. Yes.”
The air around them sizzled, crackling with energy. His gaze dipped to her mouth, then he shifted in the seat next to her. That he wasn’t immune to her spoke volumes, at least on her radar.
Life was filled with choices. Good ones, and not-so-good ones. Then there were the plain stupid ones. She wasn’t exactly certain where she’d classify coming on to Sebastian after his disappointing revelation. Come Monday morning, plain stupid would most assuredly apply.
But it wasn’t Monday morning. Yet.
“You’re a difficult woman to resist,” he said.
She didn’t detect so much as an ounce of regret in his admission. So did that mean he was buying her paper-thin argument? Oh, but she hoped so.
She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Then don’t.”
He blew out a stream of breath. “You realize we’re on the verge of complicating our professional relationship.”
“Probably,” she admitted. “But we won’t have a professional relationship for—”
He smiled again. “Yes, I know. For another fifty-five hours.”
“Exactly.”
He pulled his arm from her grasp, but grabbed hold of her hand and laced their fingers together. Her heart rate took off like a rocket when he brought their joined hands to his mouth. His lips brushed lightly over her knuckles and she forgot to breathe.
“Your argument is weak.” Turning her wrist, he lightly pressed his lips against her rapidly beating pulse. Heat shot through her and settled low in her tummy.
The first genuine tug of desire pulled at her. “So is my willpower,” she said, her voice a strained, breathless whisper.
He shifted in his seat and reached for her, sliding his fingers behind her neck and gently pulling her toward him. “I think I left mine in Miami.”
Thank God.
His lips brushed hers in a feathery kiss, but it was nowhere near enough. She leaned into him, as far as the bucket seat would allow, and opened her mouth beneath his. His answering groan as he slipped his tongue into her mouth was all the encouragement she needed.
Heat pooled in her belly, filling her with languid warmth. Was it so wrong to have what promised to be a very satisfying one-night stand? They were mature adults. Consenting adults. Why the hell not?
Okay, sure. So maybe he did have a point. They could very well end up complicating their professional relationship, but professional was the only relationship they would ever have as far as she was concerned.
He kissed her slow and deep, snapping that final thread of common sense she’d managed to hang on to thus far. A one-night stand was hardly happily-ever-after. She wasn’t even looking at a short-term fling beyond tonight. Heaven forbid they should embark upon a torrid office romance. Those always ended badly, anyway. Usually with someone in tears. And she’d bet her overinflated trust fund, Sebastian wouldn’t be the one reaching for the tissues.
Using his thumbs, he tipped her head back as his mouth left hers to nuzzle her throat. The delightful little dance his tongue made against her heated flesh was almost too much for her to bear. She wanted more. And she wanted it now.
Inviting him back to her place was out of the question, but…
“Sebastian,” she breathed, “let’s go where we can be more comfortable.”
He lifted his head, but kept his hand cupping her neck. His thumb drew lazy circles along her jaw and she trembled. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Okay, but just for a nightcap.”
Sure, she believed that. Not.
“By the way,” she said, giving him a sly, but deliberate smile. “Did I mention the beachfront property I have for sale in Arizona?”
IN THE DARKNESS OF his newly rented third-floor apartment, they tripped over a moving carton partially blocking the doorway to his bedroom. Sebastian cursed and Joey giggled, but he caught them both before they went tumbling and landed on the hardwood floor. His place was hardly the ideal scene for romance with a beautiful woman, but when Joey had insisted her place was too far away from Rosalie’s to be the practical choice, he hadn’t had enough sense left to argue with her.
They landed up against the door with a loud thud. He caught her weight with his body, but the door swung hard against the wall, then jerked again, slamming the knob through the drywall. With Joey’s slender curves pressed against him, he didn’t much care if the damn thing came off the hinges.
Joey tugged his shirt from his jeans and shoved her hands beneath the fabric to splay her hands over his stomach. Her fingertips teased the waistband of his jeans.
“Your skin is so warm,” she murmured. She shoved the shirt up and placed her wet, moist lips on his chest. “Hot.”
His skin wasn’t all that was on fire. His dick throbbed almost painfully within the strict confines of his jeans. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had him so hard—and all they’d done so far was kiss. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his guard down long enough to just be himself with any woman. All work and no play. His own personal motto, one he’d chosen to ignore for the first time in what suddenly felt like an eternity.
She smoothed her hands upward, brushing her palms over his nipples. A rush of breath left him, and he grabbed hold of her hips, pulling her tighter against him. The door creaked, protesting against their weight, but he was beyond caring about anything except having Joey naked and wanting him.
He dove a hand into her short blond hair and tugged gently, pulling her head back so he could kiss her again. She opened for him, inviting him inside. Her taste was sweet and wildly exotic, like a fine brandy. The kind he’d promised himself he’d one day be able to afford.
That thought nearly had him calling a halt to their nocturnal activities…until she arched her body, rubbing her slender curves up against him like a cat.
“Touch me,” she murmured against his mouth. “Touch me now, Sebastian.”
“Where would you like me to start?” He had a few ideas of his own, but he liked a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about telling him.
“How about I let you decide?”
He wasn’t picky. He liked the sound of that, too.
She backed away, and he instantly regretted the loss of her body heat. In the moonlight streaming through the window, he watched her smile turn positively wicked as she shrugged out of her suede jacket. The heavy material landed on the floor at his feet.
He took a step toward her, but she backed up, keeping him a fraction beyond arm’s length away. This time she peeled off her blouse, slowly revealing inch after delicious inch of silky-looking skin. The top went somewhere—to the floor, he assumed—but he didn’t happen to notice where because his gaze was held prisoner by the sight of a red satin-and-lace bra cupping her firm, lush breasts.
His fingers itched to fulfill her demand to touch her, to test the weight of her full breasts in his hands. He wanted to taste her skin, longed to discover her secrets. Couldn’t wait to make her his in the most elemental way possible. For as long as it lasted, which according to her, would only be until they reported for work Monday morning.
With a flick of her wrist, she unbuttoned her jeans then slowly tugged the zipper down. He caught a glimpse of more red lace. Thong, he wondered? Or a sexy pair of those boy shorts he easily imagined hugging that adorable ass of hers?
A frown suddenly puckered her smooth forehead. “Boots,”