Brenda Jackson - Locked In Temptation

Now she was the one to inch forward, and she could tell by the look in his eyes he was a little surprised by the move. Surprised and pleased, just like when she had taken a bold approach earlier.

“Be forewarned, Stonewall Courson. Once you cross over my threshold, you’re on my turf.”

He held her gaze and she felt the heat. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I’ll be calling the shots. What do you have to say about that?”

A smile curved his lips. “I say bring it on.”

* * *

STONEWALL HAD HOPED when he’d parked his car in Joy’s driveway that their time together wouldn’t end on her doorstep. Now as he glanced around the huge living room, he felt a sense of relief that it hadn’t. Yes, she might be calling the shots, but he was determined to get a few points in nonetheless.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks. I’m taking this cake to the kitchen. While I’m there, what can I get you to drink?”

“A beer would be appreciated if you have one.”

“I do. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Stonewall watched her leave, appreciating the sway of her hips. He drew in a deep breath and felt his body heat from anticipation. Of what? He couldn’t be sure, when she was determined to call the shots.

He glanced around the room again. On the drive to her place she’d told him she’d purchased the house a year ago. Upon moving to Charlottesville she had leased an apartment close by and would jog in this neighborhood of historical homes every morning. When this particular house had gone up for sale she had contacted the Realtor immediately and placed a down payment on it. According to Joy, there had been things about the area that she’d liked—the quiet community as well as the treelined streets and a majestic view of the mountains in the distance.

The first thing he’d noticed was just how neat and tidy her home was. Not a single item out of place. Even the pillows on the leather sofa seemed in perfect alignment. What looked like a seventy-inch television hung above a white brick fireplace. She’d mentioned her home’s proximity to just about everything: shopping, fast-food places and grocery stores. All those things would be advantageous with her hectic schedule.

“I hope I didn’t take too long,” she said, returning with two bottles of beer.

He’d noticed at some point she’d removed her shoes, and seeing her out of them was just as sexy as seeing her in them. “No, but I did miss you while you were gone.”

“Did you?” she asked, handing him one of the bottles.

“Sure did. And thanks,” he said, taking the cold bottle from her and suddenly feeling hot from the brief touch of their fingers. “We’re going to have to do something about that sooner or later, you know.”

He wondered if she would pretend not to know what he was talking about and was glad that she didn’t. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Were you?” he asked, screwing off the cap to the beer bottle. He took a long, delicious gulp and licked his lips afterward. It was then he noticed she was standing there staring at him. He lifted a brow. “Is anything wrong, Joy?”

* * *

“NO, THERE’S NOTHING WRONG.” Joy knew there was no way a woman could tell a man that the mere sight of him drinking a beer, of his muscles in his throat flexing as he swallowed, was a total turn-on. And it didn’t help matters that she knew the shape and fullness of those lips he’d placed on the beer bottle, mainly because they had been on her mouth earlier. The memory of their kiss almost made her groan, and she quickly uncapped her beer and took a swig. She needed the taste of the cold liquid to cool off the rush of desire clawing at her.

“Joy?”

She lifted her eyes to his and wished she hadn’t. She saw concern. But more than anything, she saw something hot and steamy in the gaze staring back at her. “I’m fine.” She was practically drowning in the man. His mere presence was having a sinfully erotic effect on her.

“I like the way you’ve got this place fixed up. Maybe you can give me a few decorating ideas.”

“I got most of my ideas from the television.”

He chuckled and set his beer on a nearby table. “The television you never turn off?”

“Yes. One and the same.” She took another sip of beer. “I would give you a tour of the place but you wouldn’t be impressed. Nothing spectacular.”

“I find that hard to believe when I think you’re spectacular. It stands to reason the place you live would be, too.”

She chuckled as she tapped the mouth of her beer bottle to the center of her lips a few times. “Why, Mr. Courson, if you continue to lavish me with all these compliments, I’ll begin to think you have an ulterior motive for doing so.”

A corner of Stonewall’s lips curved into a grin. “And what ulterior motive could I possibly have?” he asked, inching closer. He was standing so close that if she wanted to, she could take the tip of her tongue and swipe his lower lip. So close that she could actually feel the heat radiating off him and onto her.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” she asked him.

He reached out, took the beer bottle from her hand and placed it on the table next to his. As usual, whenever their hands touched, a crackle of sexual energy passed between them. She felt it and, from the darkening of his eyes, knew he’d felt it, as well. “There’s no need to spell anything out to me, Joy.”

Why did he have to say her name with that sexy huskiness? With the tip of his finger, he traced the curve of her lips. The touch was so light and sensuous she almost moaned. “But like I said earlier, sooner or later we’re going to have to do something about all this chemistry between us. Personally, I prefer sooner, since it seems when it comes to the two of us, we can’t count on later. Something always comes up.”

That was true. Look how long it had taken for their first date, she thought.

“Then there’s that kiss we never finished,” he added. He leaned his head closer to hers, and she felt his unspoken question like a warm whisper against her lips.

Her mind suddenly conjured up images of how it had felt to wrap her arms around his muscled back while his mouth totally devoured hers. She couldn’t give him a yes or a no. At that moment, with his mouth so close to hers, all she could do was give him a “Hmm.” And when he leaned even closer and his tongue did a tantalizing sweep across her lips, a rush of sensations bombarded her.

“I’m tempted to do that every time I look at your lips, you know,” he said before doing it again.

No, she didn’t know. At the moment all she knew was that she was nearly overcome by a degree of want and need she hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever.

But before things went any further they needed to establish some grounds rules. She refused to make the same mistake with him that she’d made with Omar Elwood. “Stonewall?”

He swept his tongue over her lips again, and she couldn’t hold back the moan. “Umm?”

“We need to talk.”

He reached out, cupped her face with his hands and whispered, “Later,” before leaning in and devouring her mouth.

In his lifetime Stonewall had kissed plenty of women, but at that moment he knew none of those kisses had affected him as much as this one did. Joy was pushing him to the limits of his sanity and with every stroke of his tongue to hers, liquid heat was shooting straight toward his groin.

This was their third kiss, and it seemed each and every time their mouths connected things got crazier and crazier. Their needs became all-consuming. Their desire for each other was so perfectly aligned that he could feel every single pore in his body open up to sensations he’d never felt before.