With His Touch. Dawn Atkins
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“Then you won’t mind if I interrupt them?” Conner leaned forward for a test kiss that could lead to the wild and lovely ride she usually loved.
His lips looked soft, the way she liked them, but she kept thinking about Gage’s firmer ones. Focus. She was about to get a great kiss.
Which, abruptly, she didn’t want.
She felt a strange longing, like a dream where you searched room after room for something you weren’t even sure you’d recognize if you found it.
She put her hand on Conner’s chest. “I’m sorry. I just realized how tired I am.”
His eyes widened. “Did I—”
“Misjudge me? Not at all. I just changed my mind. I’m sorry. I would disappoint you.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” He smiled ruefully. “Another time?”
“Maybe,” she said, then squinted down the bar. “There’s a very hot woman over there. Her line is erotic pastries, I think. Talk about a great icebreaker.”
He looked where she indicated, then smiled back at her. “You have good taste in women.”
She shrugged. “I help where I can.” She pushed her martini away, not wanting more alcohol when she already felt funny, and stood. “I’d better take off. Listen, if you run into anyone who might be interested in a franchise, would you mind giving them my card?” She handed him several more.
“I might know of a limited partnership. I’ll let you know.”
“Great.”
“Keep us in mind, too. Custom systems at prefab prices.” He smiled, showing her the man beneath the pitch. She liked the guy. She just didn’t want to sleep with him.
He kissed her goodbye—softly and with regret—and she really liked his mouth. “Get some sleep.” He cupped her cheek.
“I will.” What the hell was the matter with her? She might not be at a sexual peak, but she sure as hell wasn’t in a slump. She knew her body, knew her needs. She handled her own O, as a matter of fact, and always had.
Maybe she needed her thyroid checked.
She was uncomfortably aware that the Water Bed Moment was proof positive that her libido was in full working order. Something else was going on here and she wasn’t happy about it.
2
THE GIFT BOX CRAMMED UNDER one arm, Gage froze in the bar doorway and watched a guy kiss Sugar right on the mouth.
He was stunned. That Armani-suited bozo was trying to pick her up. And she was letting him. After what had just happened between them even.
That ass couldn’t possibly get Sugar. He’d hit on her because she was hot and lively and fun. But Gage understood the tender woman beneath the fire and bluff.
Motivated by his new feelings, Gage wanted to march in there and knock that lounge lizard right off his stool. Luckily, before he could pull a Neanderthal, Sugar pushed to her feet, smiled goodbye to the guy and walked away—straight for Gage.
He didn’t want her to think he’d stalked her, so he backed up and ducked into an elevator before she saw him.
In his room, he paced, thoughts reeling. What was Sugar up to? Who was that guy? How long before she’d be here for dinner? He looked at his watch. Too long.
He tried to calm down. Everything was ready. He’d worked his plan like the sensible guy he was. He’d bought the leather suit for her and roses in a vase curved like Sugar’s figure. Dinner would arrive in an hour, along with Sugar.
But what if she’d made a date with Mr. Armani? What if he was heading to her room this very minute for a quickie?
She hadn’t been seeing anyone for a few months, Gage knew, but that wasn’t typical. Sugar kept busy to avoid the quiet. Unlike himself, who always took his time. He was too careful, dammit, too slow to act. Look at all the time he’d wasted, without even knowing what he wanted. He’d been doing the breaststroke down the biggest river in Egypt for years and, man, were his arms tired.
It hurt to laugh at himself.
He was done with denial and done with waiting. And at the moment, he had no intention of letting some ass-passing-in-the-night get between him and the woman he…loved. Yeah, that’s right. He loved Sugar.
The idea made his head spin. This wasn’t how falling in love was supposed to work. You were supposed to gradually realize the depth of your feelings, not get clubbed over the head and dragged down the hall.
But that was what had happened. And he was too much of a pragmatist to deny it. No, the practical thing was to go for it.
Flooded with adrenaline and determined as hell, he barreled down the hall to Sugar’s room. He had the fleeting thought that he’d completely lost his mind, but he pounded on her door anyway. He wasn’t himself and whoever he’d turned into wasn’t backing out now.
In a few seconds, Sugar opened up, her eyes startled. “Gage? What are you doing here?”
“This.” He cupped her face between his palms and kissed her, kicking the door shut behind him with one heel. He threw everything into that kiss—all the heat and need—holding her face the entire time.
She made a little whimper, stilled, then softened against him for a few seconds as she’d done on the water bed.
Then she yanked away. “Hold it…. Stop.” She sagged, bracing her hands on her thighs, struggling for breath. “Wait.”
What about his plan? Be casual and easy and fun? Okay, not too late. Slow down, give her a second, start over calmly. Instead he said the worst possible thing. “Sugar, I’m in love with you.”
“I HAVE TO SIT.” Sugar felt as though she’d been dumped into a washer and tossed around the drum until her brain rattled in her skull. She backed to the closest bed and sank onto the spread, the satin cool against her stocking-covered thighs. She’d only managed to get her jacket and shoes off when Gage began pounding on her door like the hotel was burning down and her room was next.
She couldn’t catch a solid breath and her whole body trembled. Much worse than the Water Bed Moment. She dug her toes into the thick carpet, pressed her soles flat, desperate for solid footing. “What did you say?” She lifted a hand to stop his answer. “Never mind. I heard. Give me a second.”
Her sensible partner had just come at her like an avenging angel or an EMT giving her the breath of life.
And what a breath it had been. That kiss had you’re mine force combined with how do you want it? tenderness. He’d held her face between his palms, adoring her, making her feel every millimeter of his mouth—strong lips, coaxing tongue. Now her sex felt like an overwound rubber band about to snap.
And then he’d gone and said it. The L word.
“You love me?” she asked weakly. He couldn’t, could he? The possibility made her feel two things at once: Oh, hooray and Ah, shit.
Gage dropped onto the bed beside her. Taking her hands in his, he laced their fingers together and rested the clump on his thigh. “That wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”
“It wasn’t?” Maybe they could erase it and start over. Hope rose.
“It’s true, though,” he said. “I do love you.”
Damn.
“I don’t know what to say, Gage.” Her head was still in the washing machine, banging into the sides so that her ears were ringing and her mind was mush.
“You’re saying it.” He managed a wry smile. “You’re freaked. If it makes you feel any better, so am I. I mean, we worked this all out, right? Way back in college.”