Lynnette Kent - Expecting the Best

“Someone,” he agreed, a smile tilting one side of his mouth. “Let me take your coat.”

He lifted the weight from her shoulders and hung the fur in the closet, along with his dark wool. When he came back, he stopped far enough away that she understood she shouldn’t feel coerced. “Champagne?”

But his eyes had changed, and in them Shelley saw the need she could feel tearing inside herself. She shook her head and closed the distance between them. “Later. Please...kiss me like that again.”

Zach held her as if they were still dancing, one hand clasping hers, the other at the curve of her waist. Their bodies barely touched. Yet the pressure of his mouth demanded. Required. Compelled.

Shelley responded with unforced pleasure. There had been no one as real as Zach in her life for a very long time. She needed his warmth, his closeness. Needed to think that she mattered, if only for tonight.

She loosened his bow tie and felt him chuckle, deep in his throat. His palms skimmed her bare arms with a delicious friction, and she realized that the jacket for the dress was gone. The studs on his shirt gave her some trouble, so he got her zipper down first. Then she stood in front of him wearing just her slip and stockings.

His blue eyes blazed as he slowly looked her over, and he whistled low and long. “Lady, as far as I’m concerned, you could have come dressed like this tonight!”

CHAPTER TWO

ZACH DIDN’T KNOW why Shelley was laughing, but he liked the sound. He liked the sight of her just within reach, wearing dark blue satin and lace. He liked the feel of her skin under his palms. And he loved the way she smelled.

But she was too far away. “Come here,” he murmured, catching her wrists to draw her close.

Her arms curved around his waist under his shirt, cool against his heat. “Better?”

“Oh, yeah.” Zach dipped his head, found her mouth and settled back into her scent and taste, letting his mind shut down in favor of other systems. He skimmed his lips over her cheek, her ear. “Definitely better than champagne. I’m drunk on you, Shelley.”

With a tilt of her head, Shelley’s mouth recaptured his. She eased his shirt off without breaking the kiss. Her hands lingered on the balls of his shoulders, then stroked the fabric down to his elbows. There she stopped.

“Gotcha,” she whispered, trapping his lower arms inside the sleeves with the cuffs still fastened.

“I’m not as talented without my hands.” Zach backed up as she put a palm against his chest and pushed. “But I’m certainly willing to give it my best shot.”

“Later,” she said again. This time she pushed with both hands. Abandoning his halfhearted protest, he fell backward onto the bed.

She came down after him, a featherweight on his chest, and took him into another kiss. Hunger flared up fast, edging him toward the limits of control. They were both panting by the time Shelley tore her mouth away.

Slipping to the side, she ran a hand through the hair on his chest. “We’ve got all night. No hurry.”

“Speak for yourself,” he muttered, straining his wrists against starched cotton, but without enough force to actually break free. “I was considering the priesthood until I saw you tonight.”

“A long time, hmm?” Her fingers traced over his skin, just above the waist of his slacks.

“You’re killing me.”

She lowered her head, nuzzled his collarbone. “Good.”

Crazy with need, Zach surrendered. If Shelley wanted the power, he’d let the lady have her way—for now, at least. Her small hands stroked and kneaded, and his breath got shallower with every touch. Her mouth scattered sparks across his skin. The woman was too dangerous to be safe. Too good to be left alone.

She eased his zipper down, and Zach thought he’d lose his dignity right then. He focused on Shelley for distraction, the way her lips pressed together as she concentrated, how her lashes fanned dark across the curve of her cheeks. White-gold hair fell around her face like angel glass, but if she was an angel, he’d bet on her being one of Lucifer’s crowd. What she was doing to him tonight could only be classified as absolutely wicked.

His socks, slacks and shorts disappeared, and her warm palms covered him. Zach groaned and closed his eyes. “I swear, Shelley, this isn’t going last if you don’t—”

He shut up and opened his eyes as she rolled on a condom.

“There are toothbrushes in the other pocket,” he pointed out between clenched teeth.

She rose above him—delicate, provocative as hell, with one blue satin strap slipping down over her shoulder. “I figured you’d be prepared.”

Zach grinned tightly. “I made Eagle Scout, once upon a time.”

She nodded. “I’m not surprised.” Then, holding his gaze, her own sultry and smiling and serious all at once, she took him inside.

Blood pulsed through his bound wrists, behind his eyes, in his belly. He wanted to slow down, get his breath, control the aching, pounding craving to get there...

But Shelley’s face mirrored his struggle, reflected the agony and the need and the yearning. Zach knew he wouldn’t last another second...and then she cried out and gripped him, with a strength that thrust them both into the heart of a shattering star.

WRAPPED IN THE HOTEL’S thick red robe, Shelley curled up in the armchair by the window and stared through the predawn darkness at a snowstorm that hadn’t slowed in the least. Bumps and clumps on the curbs hinted that an effort had been made to clear the street at some point, but another foot or so had fallen since then. Not many people would be shopping for a house today. She didn’t need to go to work.

At the thought, she turned her head toward the bed. Zach breathed deeply and stirred, but didn’t wake up. He lay on his side, bare chested and adorable, his arms still holding the space where she’d slept.

Unbelievable. She’d spent the night with Zach Harmon. Seduced by his charm, enchanted by the charisma of a man who knew just what a woman wanted, she’d stopped thinking and let her needs carry them both away.

Now...the moment for regrets. This incredible connection between them wouldn’t last. Shelley knew she didn’t have a recipe for the glue that welded relationships. No matter how wonderful the guy appeared to be—and Zach came across as damn near perfect—she couldn’t make love, or even lust, stick.

Her heart sank with the admission. Zach would be fun to keep around, at least a little while. During the two years she’d known him, they’d met maybe five or six times. She’d always thought about him afterward, in more detail and for much longer than was smart.

The result of those silly daydreams was this. This. A weekend fling, a moment out of time. He would walk out the door of this room and, no doubt, forget all about her, as he’d done after their other encounters. He’d never called her, had he? Never asked for a date?

And she would resume her own life, presenting deals and negotiating contracts, cajoling stubborn buyers and obstinate sellers. Late at night, she’d go back to an empty house, turn on the television for noise and wait for the dreams to keep her company.

“Hey.” At the word, Shelley opened her eyes and found Zach awake. “What are you doing over there?” The rumble in his voice reminded her of a drowsy lion’s purr.

Aware of his gaze, she stretched slowly. “Watching the snow.”

“Still?”

“More than two feet now.”

“Too bad.” He grinned, and the sexy message revved up her heartbeat. “We’ll just have to stay inside and play games.”

“Parcheesi?” She decided she might as well get as much of Zach as she could while he was here. The more she had, the more fuel there would be for dreams when she was alone again. “Monopoly? I’m very good at Monopoly.” Walking toward the bed, she untied her belt and let the robe drop to the floor.