Undressed. HEATHER MACALLISTER
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rewarded her by taking her lower lip in his mouth and sucking gently as he ran his tongue back and forth against it.
Every nerve in her lip woke up. “Helllllooooo,” they purred.
She relaxed a little more, aware that she had slipped backward enough so that instead of being above him as she had been when he’d first kissed her, they were now on a nose-to-nose level.
Her reward, as she expected, was an awakening of her upper lip.
He lifted his mouth from hers and she felt a smidgen of panic that the kiss was over. Panic, because she might just beg for more and that was never good.
“You taste like cookies and wine,” he murmured. “Sweet with a little sin mixed in.”
Oh, she did like hearing him say that. Her eyes drifted shut as she allowed herself a few sinful thoughts.
Nothing happened for a few beats.
She opened her eyes. “You’re thinking of how you can work that into a song, aren’t you?”
“Tryin’ real hard not to.” His eyes crinkled.
“Try harder.”
His mouth, his very talented mouth, creased in a slow grin as he settled her more firmly against him. “I think harder is the operative word.”
Indeed.
Lia sighed.
He parted her newly sensitized lips with a series of openmouthed kisses that had her melting. Lia was not the melting type. Or so she’d thought. Maybe, just maybe, J.C. was the first man to find her melting point.
She’d never been kissed like this before. Even worse, he made her afraid she’d never be kissed like this again.
As her body continued melting until she resembled a puddle of discarded satin, Lia slid lower in his arms. Sort of, kind of, well, okay, melting against him so she had as much of her body in contact with his as possible. Any woman would. And probably had.
Through slitted eyes, she saw J.C.’s face above hers, his eyes closed, totally in the moment.
Lia always checked out the faces of the boys and men, er, boy-men as they kissed her. It was a habit and she wasn’t ever sure what she was looking for. Mostly, she saw guys pursuing goals, or actually, one goal. She knew they were thinking to themselves, “Chicks like kissing, so I’ve got to put up with it now so they’ll put out later.”
Sometimes, she caught them watching her, gauging whether she was ready for second base. A sure mood killer.
The expression she loathed was the one of painful concentration, as though the guy had memorized some kissing manual and was trying to remember the steps. Swirl clockwise, thrust, parry. Swirl counterclockwise, thrust, parry. Rinse. Repeat. Blech.
But she had never seen the look of a man reveling in the kiss before. J.C. was clearly enjoying himself, but he wasn’t lost in the moment, not completely. He wasn’t lost because he wanted to remain aware of her feelings, specifically whether she was ready to stop or not.
And she knew this because…?
Because Lia Wainright was finally being kissed by a man, just the way she’d wanted to be.
And she liked it. A lot. More than she should, because kissing was about more than technique, even superb technique. She just couldn’t remember what else right now.
What would his face look like if he were totally lost in the moment? She’d never know because then she would have other things to think about besides his expression. Except she wouldn’t be thinking. She’d be feeling.
And she shouldn’t be thinking now. Why couldn’t she lose herself in the moment instead of distracting herself by overanalyzing the kiss? Wondering where it was going instead of just enjoying it all on its own?
Abruptly, Lia placed her hands—which she was sorry to note had only been gripping the chair arms—on either side of J.C.’s head and broke their kiss.
His golden-tipped eyelashes swept upward.
Lia Wainright looked this man right in his blue, blue eyes and smiled.
And then she kissed him.
For the next several minutes, Lia Wainright channeled her inner woman. It should have been effortless. It wasn’t, which said something about her that she’d examine later. Much later. For now, she quickly returned the awaken-the-lips favor and then went exploring, learning his taste, and what made him hum. Especially what made him hum because that’s what sent delicious vibrations over her tongue to bump merrily along the way to those parts of her that appreciated vibrations the most.
Lia knew it was time to break the kiss when she became seriously interested in taking her tongue out of the equation and applying his humming directly to those parts of her.
Not now. But, for the love of fudge-ripple ice cream, within the near future.
So, trying to hide her reluctance, Lia retrieved her hands from where they’d been wandering along his leanly muscled arms. Slowly, she gentled her kisses, pleased when he responded in kind.
They stared at one another and then Lia said, “J.C., it’s time to put your hard drive back into your machine.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lia stepped next door. She didn’t even have a face-saving pretext. “James?” She confronted J.C.’s sales-associate cousin. “Or do you prefer Jimmy?”
“Oh.” James flushed a deep cherry pink that clashed with the coral shirt, tie and pocket square he wore to prove that men could wear pink.
Lia liked James, but James was not the man to demonstrate any shade of pink whatsoever. But James and pink weren’t the point. His cousin was the point.
James looked ready to bolt.
Lia cut off his escape. “Yes, I have been talking to your cousin. Tell me about him. Hold nothing back.”
Panic flashed in James’s eyes. “Is he bothering you?”
Define bother, Lia felt like saying. “Not yet.”
“Good.” James looked visibly relieved. “He’s visiting for a few days.”
“And?”
“And he’ll be gone soon?”
Lia leveled a look at him. “James, is he sleeping in the back dressing room?”
The panic returned and James went into full defense mode. “He wanted to. I told him he shouldn’t, but he likes the quiet. He says he can’t hear his music when he’s around people all the time.”
Lia thought of the bits and pieces she’d heard through the wall. “Some music shouldn’t be heard.”
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