Jill Shalvis - New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess

“Yes,” she said quickly, suddenly breathless. “I remember.”

“So I have no idea how that whole thing started.”

“Mrs. Fritzle gets ideas.”

“Mrs. Fritzle is insane.”

“Yes, well. I’m sorry I left you that way.”

He turned his head and looked at her then. His eyes were deep, dark and full of things that unnerved her. “I’m sorry, too. But you were right. For one second there, right after we made love, I did want to leave. You scare me, Becca. Right to the bone.”

Well that made two of them. It was shockingly easy to slide her hands around his waist and hug him, her cheek against his back. He was tall and lanky, but muscled, too, and she loved touching him. Desire fluttered in her stomach. “And anyway, I understand,” she murmured. “Really.”

He turned then, slid his hands to her hips, trapping her between his hard desk and even harder body. “What do you understand exactly?”

His voice was a rough whisper. He’d used that same thrilling tone with her before, just last night as a matter of fact, as he’d urged, coaxed and helped her to the most explosive orgasm of her life.

“I understand we got carried away during…sex.” She bit her lip. “We’re really connected that way, but I know you don’t want me to get the wrong idea about it being anything more then it is.”

Shock took him aback for a moment, then he let out an unsteady laugh. “ Carried away. Quaint term. Is that what happened last night, Becca? We got carried away? ”

Though his embrace wasn’t exactly tender, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his hard jaw, wanting to relax him, wanting to give him something of herself, wanting…wanting so much she couldn’t even put words to it.

“You knocked my world off its axis,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice thicker than it was before. He stroked his hands over her. “I still haven’t recovered.”

She felt breathless already. And she could hear his own ragged breathing.

“Dammit, maybe I didn’t want this,” he said roughly. “But even I can admit the truth. It’s more than merely ‘carried away’.” He lifted her chin. “Say it.”

If she did, she would have to admit the rest, she’d have to tell him she’d fallen hopelessly in love. Instead, she dropped kisses over his neck.

He groaned when she darted out her tongue and touched his earlobe, but didn’t lose track of the conversation. “Say it!”

Their gazes met, hot and tense and needy. Mirrored souls. The thought came from nowhere and shook her into seeing the truth. “It’s more,” she admitted on a serrated sigh.

His eyes glittered. His hands, hot on her, tightened. Then he let go of her, slammed the lock of his office door into place, and came back to lift her onto his desk. Looking at her from dark, dark eyes, he took the pencil she had behind her ear and tossed it over his shoulder. “Hand over the rest of them,” he said, holding out an open palm.

With a little laugh, she took another pencil from her breast pocket.

“Only two?” He tsked while she laughed nervously. “I know better than that.” Playfully he patted her down, raising a brow in triumph when he found one in her side pocket. “I don’t want to get stabbed anywhere…vital.”

“That was it,” she promised and he drew her close, seeking her mouth. His lips were warm and firm, his tongue coaxing as he ran it over hers. He nibbled and urged and she felt her pulse go crazy. “Kent.”

While he held her gaze safe in his, his filled with a terrifying combination of protectiveness and possessiveness, he slid his hand up her thigh, beneath the hem of her dress. His fingers found her and in a barely there touch, slid over her. Again, but beneath the edge of her panties.

She gasped and her head fell back as she shamelessly, urgently opened her legs wider and arched her back. “Here?”

“Oh, yeah. Here. Right here.” He punctuated each word with a hard, sexy kiss to her mouth.

A thrill raced through her. “Now?”

Again, his fingers teased, coaxing a low moan from her lips before she could hold it back. “Now.”

TEN MINUTES LATER, she was severely air challenged. There was a file beneath her hip, a stapler stabbing her back and the delicious weight of a sated man slumped in her arms.

Her leg tightened, threatened to cramp, but she wouldn’t have shifted him to save her life. As she sacrificed her own limb, Becca listened as the racing of Kent’s heart slowed and came back to normal, and she knew the startling truth.

He was right.

“Carried away” didn’t begin to describe what was between them. “Fine” didn’t cover it, either.

Not even close.

S UMMER’S P LACEwas still open when Kent drove up, as he knew it would be. It was a Thursday evening, which meant the weekend was looming. Incline Village, for the most part, consisted of a wealthy, eclectic group of people. Properties were expensive, so were the resorts. The women liked to look good.

In light of that, the salon was hopping. There was a new receptionist-a small, petite, twenty-something young woman with green hair, black fingernail polish, at least ten earrings and a pierced eyebrow, who gave him a smile and the serious once-over. “Welcome.”

“I’d like to talk to Summer.”

Even with her pierced brow, she managed a look of regret. “I’m sorry, she’s busy with a client. But we aim to please here. Can I help you?”

Her smile told him she wasn’t necessarily referring to any service the salon could provide.

There’d been a time in Kent’s life when he would have jumped all over that promise in her eyes. But things were different now, both the times and himself.

He still enjoyed women, no doubt. But suddenly all he could think about was one woman-Becca. And though the thought still brought an abrupt and terrifying change to his pulse, he couldn’t just ignore it.

“I’d really like just a moment with Summer,” he said to the young woman. “I can wait.”

She frowned slightly, an expression exaggerated by her black lip gloss. “She’ll have another client waiting after this one-”

The phone rang, and Kent listened as she reluctantly accepted the cancellation of Summer’s next client.

“Well, then,” Kent said with a smile, when she’d hung up. “Summer will be free soon.”

“Sure.” Cool now, she folded her hands and looked at him. “For a client.”

He gave her his best I’m-so-charming smile. “I just need a moment.”

“Sorry. If you want to talk, you’ll need to make an appointment. How about a cut and style? Or a manicure?” Her gaze ran over his body, past the dark polo shirt tucked into even darker jeans. “Massage?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Obviously you’ve never had one. Here-” She bent and took out a deep green robe from a drawer. “You just strip down to the buff and-”

“I don’t think so.”

“We have a male masseuse, if you’d prefer. You know, for modesty’s sake.”

Kent couldn’t believe it. “You’re telling me that in order to talk to Summer, I need to let someone put their hands all over me?”

“Yep.” Her smile turned a bit naughty. “Of course, if you’re shy, or…whatever, you can always just have your hair done.”

Oh what the hell, his reputation was already shot thanks to Mrs. Fritzle. What more could one little beauty salon treatment cost him? “Fine. Haircut.”

“And style,” she added, penciling him into Summer’s schedule. She lifted her triumphant, laughing gaze. “Name?”

“Kent Wright.”

Her pencil froze. Slowly she lifted her gaze to stare at him. “ Dr. Kent Wright?”