Susan Mallery - Her Last First Date

“Because you would be a better person if you’d been emotionally crushed?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t regret the decision, just your lack of remorse?”

Crissy hesitated. Did she regret giving up Brandon?

She searched her heart. “Pretty much,” she admitted. “I’m not like Abbey.”

“No one’s asking you to be.”

“But she’s so great with the kids. She has all those domestic abilities. I don’t. I have no natural female talents.”

From where he was sitting, Josh thought she had a few. More than a few. But she wouldn’t want to hear about him finding her sexy.

Her vulnerability drew him in, mostly because he sensed she was normally confident and in charge of her life. She was a successful businesswoman who had one weakness—her inability to forgive herself.

“We’re not living in the 1800s,” he told her. “Women don’t have a single role. Everyone gets to make choices. You gave your baby to a couple who desperately wanted him. Where’s the bad in that?”

“Oh, sure. Use logic. I’m talking about my irrational side here. I want to wallow in guilt and shame.”

“What is there to be ashamed of? Having Abbey and Pete raise your son?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I’m not ashamed of that and Brandon isn’t my son. He’s theirs. They are possibly the most perfect parents I’ve ever met and as my parents did a hell of a job, I have fairly high standards. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Temper flashed in her eyes. Color stained her cheek and she was breathing hard. Damn, she looked good. He felt a stirring of pure lust. It had been so long that at first he couldn’t figure out what the heat pouring through him meant. When he did, he nearly grinned. It felt good to be alive. How long had it been since he could say that?

“You think this is funny?” she demanded, rising to her feet.

“Not funny. Just interesting. Anger is more productive than self-pity.”

She glared at him. “I can’t believe it. Are you playing me?”

He put down his wine and stood. “A little. I had no idea there was such a drama queen hiding behind your power suit.”

“Drama queen? I don’t think so.” She moved closer and pointed her index finger at him. “You’re just so typically male. Whenever there’s a situation that makes you uncomfortable or that you can’t handle, you go for the easy putdown. The chick insults. Do you feel more like a man now?”

She breathed fury. He could see she wanted to hit him—or at least throw him out.

“Kind of,” he said with a grin.

Then acting rather than thinking, he grabbed her upper arms, pulled her up against him and kissed her.

He felt her shock and half expected her to push him away. For a moment there was nothing but the warmth of her mouth on his and the heat flaring between them. He braced himself for rejection, but it never came. Instead she tilted her head slightly and kissed him back.

Nothing intimate, he thought, enjoying the softness of her lips as they brushed against his. She shrugged her arms free of his hold and put her hands on his shoulders.

He breathed in the scent of her body. The outdoors, the faint fruitiness of the wine and a feminine sweetness that was unique to her.

He rested the tips of his fingers on her waist and slowly moved to her back. She felt different than Stacey. Shorter, curvier. At the thought of his late wife, he prepared to drown in memories and guilt. But there was nothing inside of him but a growing hunger.

He shifted his hands higher, then slipped one up the back of her neck so he could bury his fingers in her short, silky hair. At the same time she erased the final step that separated them.

Her body pressed against his from shoulders to knees. His first impression was of heat and curves. Her breasts burned against his chest. Every cell of his body cried out for him to touch her. To feel the smooth, soft flesh, to taste her nipples and listen to her moan in pleasure. It had been four years since he’d been with a woman, but he remembered everything he wanted to do. It flashed into his mind, an X-rated movie starring the woman in his arms.

Knowing that wasn’t going to happen, he focused on their kiss. He moved to her jaw and kissed his way to her earlobe. Once there, he drew in the bit of flesh and nibbled until she sighed and her grip on him tightened. Her skin was soft and hot and tempting in ways he’d never imagined. The sound of her breathing filled him with need.

He moved down her neck, going slowly, kissing his way to the open vee of her sweater. Only when he’d felt her heart pounding did he return his attention to her mouth.

She opened for him immediately. He slipped inside and when his tongue touched hers, he felt a jolt clear down to his groin. The wanting grew until it was an inescapable pulsing. He was hard and ready. He wanted her. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her body. He wanted to make her writhe and scream and come, then he wanted to start at the beginning and do it again.

Crissy drew back slightly and stared at him. Passion darkened her eyes. “Wow,” she whispered. “That was some kiss.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“‘Liked’ doesn’t come close.” She moved her hands down his arms, then dropped them to her sides. “I want to blame the wine, but I haven’t had more than a sip.”

“Me, either.”

“So it’s emotional intensity and chemistry?”

He didn’t know what it was. The only thing he was clear on was that his body had come back to life and it felt damn good to be hard.

“It just is,” he told her.

“Very profound for a guy who doesn’t do touchy feely,” she told him.

“I have untapped depths.”

“I can tell.”

He knew he should leave. She’d been through a lot today and probably needed some time to process everything.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You going to be okay?”

“Sure. I’m a little shell-shocked, but I’ll recover.”

“You’ll get used to being around Brandon,” he said.

“I was actually talking about you.”

That made him smile. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. You had me close to screaming ‘take me now, big guy.” ’

She had his full attention. “How close?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

But he wanted to know. He wanted her to tell him that he wasn’t the only one interested in the erotic next step.

She pressed her hand to his chest. “You are very unexpected, Josh Daniels. You’re a good man and an amazing kisser. Seriously you should have a plaque or something.”

He covered her hand with his, then drew her fingers up so that he could kiss them. He pressed his lips to the center of her palm and watched as her eyes dilated.

“I should go,” he murmured against her flesh.

“Yes, you should.”

She didn’t sound exactly convinced.

“Or I could stay.” He hadn’t planned to say that, but as soon as he did, he knew that’s what he wanted. To be with her. Alive for a single night.

She drew in a breath. “Staying would work, too.”

It was all the invitation he needed. He drew her against him and pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him, rubbing her belly against his hardness. The friction felt good—right. He wanted more. He wanted to bury himself inside of her and explode, but that was for later. Right now he had a plan.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She brushed against him, matching his intensity, circling him, driving him to the edge. He explored her back, then slipped his hands over the curve of her butt. He squeezed and she arched against him.

The movements of the age-old dance returned to him. Slowly he drew up the hem of her sweater, then pulled the garment over her head and tossed it on the coffee table. But instead of going right for her breasts—which was really what he wanted to do—he pressed his mouth against her now bare left wrist.