Leanne Banks - Underfoot

“My apartment’s right around the corner if you’re willing to take the couch,” she impulsively offered.

He glanced up at her and looked at her, really looked at her. She felt his gaze take in her face then skim over her body and back up to her eyes. “You sure?”

Something in his greenish hazel eyes made her stomach take a dip. She shook it off. It was probably just the second mojito. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll take you up on your kind invitation,” he said. “Let’s just have one more for the road.”

“I haven’t finished my second,” she said.

He took a long drink. “Swallow faster,” he said and motioned again for the bartender.

Two more mojitos later, she might have been fuzzy-headed, but she had enough sense to let the bartender call a cab. She supposed they could have walked, but her coordination wasn’t at peak level.

Neither was Walker’s, but he helped her out of the car. “You’re really nice to let me have your sofa, Trina. I always thought you were nice,” he said, his voice slurring slightly.

“Thanks, Walker. I always thought you were nice and very intelligent,” she said, feeling wobbly on her Bellagio heels as they walked to the elevator.

“Which floor?” he asked.

“Six,” she said, aiming for the right button and missing. “Oops.”

He chuckled. “Let me do it,” he said, and he missed, too.

For some reason, that struck her as hilarious. They both reached for the button and finally pushed number six. The elevator, however, stopped on floors four and five due to their misses. By the time they arrived at her door, she and Walker couldn’t stop laughing. She managed to find her keys in her purse. He managed to take them from her hand and eventually found the one for her door.

Trina tripped as she stepped inside, but Walker caught her against him just before he closed the door. “Whoa,” he said. “No falling. You’re not allowed to fall.”

Grabbing his shoulders for balance, she took a deep breath and caught a draft of his aftershave. “You smell really good,” she said.

“Do I?” he asked and grinned. He ducked his head into the crook of her shoulder and inhaled noisily. “You do, too.”

“Thanks,” she said, liking the way he felt against her. She liked the way his hair looked when it was messed up, not so smooth and perfect. And he had really sexy eyes and one dimple. “Did you know that you have a dent right here?” she asked, lifting her finger to the dimple that added charm to his hard jaw.

“Yeah, I probably got it fighting with my brother or sister,” he said, his voice growing a stronger Southern drawl.

“Where are you from?”

“All over the South,” he said. “Lived in too many houses and trailers to count. That’s what happens when Dad doesn’t pay the bills.”

She shook her head in sympathy, the movement blurring her vision. “Before he died, my father spent a ton of money on a court fight for his business principles.”

“Ouch,” Walker said. “Fighting for your principles in court can be very expensive.”

“Yeah,” she said, and got distracted by his thigh pressed against hers. She studied his eyes. “Did you know that your eyes change colors?”

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t looked at them much lately.”

“They look very dark green right now, but they don’t always look green,” she said.

He leaned closer. “Yours are brown. Like cocoa. Or hot chocolate. I always liked hot chocolate.”

Her heart tripped at the husky sound of his voice. “Oh.” His mouth was inches away, she thought, and wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She’d wondered more than once before, but had always pushed aside her thoughts.

As she should push them aside right now. “I should get a blanket and pillow for you,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said and she felt his green gaze drop to her mouth. “Why do you think Brooke dumped me?”

Trina’s heart squeezed tight. Her chest hurt. “I have no idea.”

He met her gaze. “Really? How was I not enough? Not smart enough? Not good-looking enough? Not exciting enough?”

“I’d have to say no to all the above,” she said.

“Really?” he asked and she knew the combination of liquor, his wounded ego and heart were talking. He would croak when he realized he’d discussed this with her.

“Really,” she said, because she believed it and she felt sorry for him. “You’re smart, entirely too good-looking, and plenty exciting.”

One side of his mouth tilted upward and he pulled her against him in an embrace. “You’re really nice, Trina.”

“I’m not just being nice,” she told him. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“You’re nice. You feel really nice, too,” he murmured against her hair.

She heard a change in his voice and felt her sense of gravity shift. A muted sense of warning pushed through her muddled mind. She should back away. She did, looking up at him. “I should get your blanket,” she whispered again.

He nodded, but lifted his hand and slowly rubbed his finger over her lips.

Trina was surprised but mesmerized by the soft touch.

“For such a nice girl, I’ve always thought you had a bad-girl mouth.”

Surprise bumped at her again. “Why?”

“Your lips are puffy,” he said, still rubbing her mouth. “And pink. Except when you wear red lipstick. Makes a guy wonder all sorts of things about your mouth.”

He was saying things he shouldn’t, but his voice was low and sexy and the darkness surrounded them like a cocoon.

“Would you mind if I kiss you just once?” he asked.

It was just a kiss, her liquored-up brain told her. One little kiss, and heaven knew she’d been curious about him. What could one little kiss hurt?

“Just one,” she said and he immediately lowered his mouth to hers. He surprised her by taking his time. He rolled his lips against hers as if he wanted to feel every bit of her. Every bit of her lips, she reminded herself.

When he increased the pressure, she automatically opened her mouth and he slid his tongue just inside, just for a second. Then he flicked his tongue over her lower lip and back again.

She felt heat rise. Alcohol flush, she told herself, but everything he did made her want a little more. Make it last longer, she thought. Taste me more. Do that again.

He kept the kiss going in one form or another for minutes, until she was leaning into him, sliding her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. His chest felt so good and hard against her breasts and, oh, he felt better than she’d thought he would.

He took a quick breath and his mouth slid over hers again. “You feel so good,” he muttered against her mouth and lowered his hands to the small of her back, pulling her lower body against his.

More than his chest was hard. His obvious arousal made her heart speed up and her mind slow down. It was so easy to let her senses take over. He smelled so good, his mouth was like a drug, and the slight gentle rhythm as he moved her against him felt too sexy for words.

Some vestige of something pushed from deep inside her brain and she pulled back. The man had been scheduled to get married tonight. His heart was hurting. His ego was hurting. “Maybe we should stop,” she said.

“Yeah. Just one more,” he said, kissing her again.

This one went on longer than the other and Trina felt so hot she could have been in the Caribbean on a summer afternoon. He moved one of his hands over her waist, up her rib cage to the side of her breast. He slid his thumb inside the halter tux top and just glanced her nipple.

She inhaled sharply.

He stopped and swore. “What the hell am I doing? This is crazy. I shouldn’t be—” He broke off and swore. “But hell, I want you.”