Joan Hohl - A Man Apart

“What kept you?” he said, a lopsided smile on his smooth, clean-shaved face.

Startled, rattled, Hannah stared at him. “Wh-what?”

“I thought you’d never get it together this morning.” His warm gaze caressed her face, settled on her mouth. “I heard your alarm go off all the way down two flights of stairs-what the hell have you got, anyway, a miniature Big Ben?” Before she could open her suddenly tingling lips to reply, he caught her by one arm to lead her along the hall to the other stairs. “I hope you didn’t waste time eating. I’ve been holding breakfast for you.”

“But…but…” Hannah stammered. Dammit, she never stammered. “Why?” she demanded, allowing him to relieve her of her suitcase and carry-on with the other hand as he urged her down the stairs and to the open door of the apartment where Karla and Ben were staying.

“Why not?” he asked, ushering her inside and firmly closing the door behind them.

More unsettled than she would have believed a man, any man could make her, Hannah ignored his question to ask one of her own. “Where are Karla, Ben and the baby?”

“They left before daylight. I helped them load the SUV. They’re going to visit her folks in Rapid City before heading back to the ranch,” he explained.

“So, why were you holding breakfast for me?” But before he could respond, she went on, “And how did you know I’d agree to have breakfast with you?”

Justin held up one finger. “I thought you might be hungry.” He grinned-too darned sexily-and held up another finger. “I didn’t know. I hoped. Will you?”

He had done it again. Thrown her off track. “Will I…” she blurted, before she collected her senses. Never in her adult life had a man held the power to so fluster her.

“Share a meal with me.” His grin turned into a sensual smile; his lowered voice was sheer temptation. “Among other even more satisfying pleasures.”

“I, uh…” Damned if she wasn’t stammering again. Grabbing a quick breath, she stammered, “I…really…I don’t…uh…think that…would be wise,” she finished, all in a breathless gush.

“Maybe so,” he drawled, in that same low, tempting tone. “But it would be fulfilling…for all our hungers.”

“I know.” Hannah blurted out without thinking, amazed at herself for doing so. “But that’s beside the-”

“No, that is the point,” he interrupted, setting her bags aside to cradle her face in his warm palms. “I want to be with you so bad I ache all over,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to within a breath of hers. “And I feel, no, I know you want to be with me every bit as badly.”

“How…” Hannah swallowed. Her voice was barely there, because suddenly her throat was tight, dry. “How do you know I want what you want?”

“Ahhh, sweet Hannah,” he whispered, his breath slipping between her slightly parted lips and into her mouth. “Your eyes give you away.” His mouth skimmed across hers, setting off a sensation that sparkled throughout her entire being. “Admit it…” His voice gathered a wicked, teasing thread. “So we can get on with other things, beginning with breakfast, which I can smell is ready.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that Hannah caught the mouthwatering aroma of freshly brewed coffee, meat sizzling and something she couldn’t quite identify, but which tantalized her taste buds.

“Okay,” she said, giving in, not to him, she told herself, but the rumble of emptiness in her stomach. “I’ll have breakfast with you.” Chastising her weakness, she hurried on, “But then I must get moving or I’ll miss my plane.”

“There’ll be other planes.” Very softly, very gently, he touched his mouth to hers.

Hannah couldn’t answer. She couldn’t breathe. His half kiss had turned the sparkle inside her to tongues of flame.

She stood mute while Justin lifted the strap of her handbag from her shoulder and slid her coat from her arms. She didn’t protest when he stashed her coat, handbag and two cases into a small closet. Turning back to her, he smiled, melting what felt like her fire-charred insides, and held out a long-fingered hand.

“Come…let’s have breakfast.”

Hannah was well and truly stuffed, pleasantly so. Cradling her second mug of coffee in her hands, she sat back in her chair, replete, one hunger satisfied.

“More?” Justin raised one dark brow, smiling at her over the rim of his coffee mug, reigniting another, even more basic hunger inside her.

“Good heavens, no.” She returned his smile, if a bit shakily. “Thank you. Everything was wonderful.”

“You’re welcome.” He lowered the mug; his lips were moist from the beverage and much too appealing. “And thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I certainly did. Do you cook a lot?”

“Not often, I admit, but I can cook.”

“A man of many talents?”

“Oh, honey, you’d be amazed.”

Always before, Hannah had resented a man calling her honey, yet, somehow, coming from Justin, it didn’t bother her. The fact was, she rather liked it.

“Refill?” he asked, raising his mug.

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head before swallowing the last of the coffee and setting her mug on the table. Hannah stood, telling herself to get moving before she gave in to the desire to stay and indulge herself. “I’ve got to go home.”

“Why?” he asked with a grin. “I was tempted to say-Home is where the heart is-but,” he shook his head. “I decided that was a bit too obvious.”

Though she really tried, Hannah couldn’t contain a smile. “And practically everything you’ve said to me, every suggestion you’ve made, wasn’t obvious?”

He pulled a long face-an attractive long face. “And here all the time I thought I was being subtle.”

She burst out laughing. “Subtle? Justin Grainger, you are about as subtle as a jackhammer.”

“You deeply wound me.” His words were belied by the devilish light in his eyes. He set his cup aside and started toward her. “Is that any way to being an affair?”

“Affair?” Hannah felt a thrilling jolt. “We, uh…we’re not beginning an affair.” She took a step back. He took two steps forward. “We hardly know each other.” She held up one hand…as if she actually believed that would stop him.

Of course it didn’t. Justin kept moving, slowly backing her up until her spine made contact with the kitchen wall. He raised his hands to cup her face. His palms were warm, gentle. His long fingers stroked her cheekbones.

“Justin.” Hannah would have drawn a deep breath, if she could have found anything other than the most shallow wisp of air. “Don’t.” Her breathless voice was a mere half-hearted whisper, hardly a deterrent.

Still, Justin paused, his mouth within inches of hers. He sighed, as if held motionless by that one word don’t. “Oh, sweet Hannah, don’t tell me no,” he murmured. “If I don’t kiss you soon, I’ll explode.”

Hannah raised her hand to his shoulders to move him back. She felt the muscles grow taut beneath her suddenly gripping fingers. And then, amazing herself with her boldness, she slid her hands to the back of his neck, grasped his hair, and pulled his head to hers to devour his mouth.

Justin did a fantastic job of devouring in return. Holding her head still with gentle fingers, he angled his mouth over hers. His tongue outlined her lips, teased the sensitive inner skin, before exploring deeper, engaging her tongue in an erotic dance.

Hannah could barely breathe, and she didn’t care. His mouth was heaven, his tongue a seeking, probing, ravenous instrument of sensual torment.

His hands deserted her head to glide down her spine, cup her bottom, draw her to the fullness of his body. All rational thought dissolved, swept away by a torrent of sensation, part agony, part pleasure, all terribly exciting and arousing.