“I—”
He took a step closer, cutting off her words, so close the heat of his body radiated through the layers of her clothes, and the musky, male scent of him filled her nostrils. He was lowering his head. He was going to kiss her. This wasn’t happening. Oh God, why had she never considered this happening? She took a step back, and he followed her. Another, and the backs of her knees banged into the edge of the sofa.
His other hand came up so he was cupping her face between his palms. She couldn’t quite define his expression, but it made something warm and needy uncoil inside her.
He was going to kiss her, and she couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let him believe she was available to fulfill some decade-old fantasy. The only way this would work was if they could be cool and detached about it.
He was coming closer, lowering his head, his gorgeous lips parting…
Stop right there.
She pulled away, ducked sideways, and put the sofa between them.
His eyes narrowed, but he still had that glint in his eyes. He was confident of her; she could see it in the lazy amusement in his expression.
She licked her lips and swallowed. “We need to talk.”
“We will. Later. Right now we need to have a little trip down memory lane. Don’t tell me you don’t want to, Abby. Don’t tell me that you aren’t hot and wet for me under that prim little outfit.”
She gritted her teeth. “I am so not…”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced down. She followed the direction of his gaze; her nipples were hard little peaks, clearly visible through her bra and sweater.
Traitorous nipples.
They ached to be touched. It had been a long time that was all. Too long. She’d had boyfriends in the past, but the last few years had been hectic, juggling her little girl and her job, so she’d pushed that part of her life aside to think about later and never gotten around to it.
He moved slowly, as though not quite sure of her, despite his words, as though she might run. And she thought about it, really she did, but she wasn’t confident her legs would carry her. She gripped the back of the sofa to steady herself.
She didn’t want this. Did she?
Maybe just once.
But sex would complicate matters.
Jennifer. Think of Jennifer.
She swallowed but didn’t move as he came up behind her.
“This was one of my earlier fantasies.” He leaned in close, whispering the words in her ear, sending frissons shivering across her skin. “So, you’re the governor’s secretary.”
“I am?”
“A cliché I know, but I didn’t have a lot to work with. Apparently, when you found out I was in prison, you were inconsolable—”
“I was?”
He kissed the side of her neck, and prickles ran down her spine. “Devastated. So you got a job at the prison to be close to me. Anyway, the governor has been called away, and we’re alone at last. You want me…” His arm slid around her waist, one hand splaying across her belly, and he pulled her back against the heat of his body. Oh God. He was already rock hard, and his erection pushed against her ass, and her insides turned hot and molten. He was so big, and heat flooded her core, soaking her panties. “And, baby, you can have me, but we have to be quick, because he might come back at any moment.” His tongue licked the side of her neck, and fire burned down through her body to settle between her thighs.
He nipped her earlobe between sharp teeth, and somehow her ass moved of its own accord—traitorous ass—pushing back against his erection, and he made a low growling sound deep in his throat. His other hand came around her, palming her breast, rubbing at the engorged nipple, sending darts of pleasure to her sex.
“Christ, I love your tits. There’s no time to undress, but other times I’d suck them, lick them, rub my dick between them, until I came all over you. And afterwards, we’d do it all over again.” He pinched the nipple and she gasped, biting her lower lip to try to maintain some last, small vestige of control. She stared down at that tattooed arm, the big hand, long fingers squeezing her breast, and the air was sucked from her lungs, leaving her breathless.
The hand on her stomach slipped beneath her sweater, pushing inside the waistband of her skirt. The caress of his rough palm against her bare skin did weird things to her insides. She pressed back against him, feeling him all the way along her spine, her ass, her head against his shoulder. His hand shifted lower and the button popped off her skirt, allowing him access.
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “I need to see if you’re as turned on by this as I am. Are you turned on, Abby?”
She would have liked to say no, but at that moment his fingers slipped inside her panties. There was no hesitation as he burrowed between her thighs. “Oh yeah,” he murmured into her ear, his voice laced with satisfaction. Then his fingers slid between the folds of her sex.