Wild for Him

lip, aching to kiss him. 'Tell me you feel it, too.'

Encircling his long fingers around her wrist, he gently drew her hand away from his face and let her arm drop back to her side. 'It doesn't matter if I do, Christine. Nothing's going to happen beyond being your pretend boyfriend.'

God, she hated that he'd reverted back to calling her Christine, which was his way of keeping things all business between them, she knew. But now that she'd come this far, she wasn't about to let him dissuade her from her ultimate goal. In fact, she was all-out determined to crack that steadfast control of his, because what she was beginning to feel for him was as honest and real as it got.

'You make me realize everything that was missing from my other relationships, not that I've had many.' Drawn to the broad expanse of his bare chest, she splayed both hands on all that hard muscle and hot skin and experienced a thrilling jolt of triumph when he sucked in a sharp breath. 'But even with the men I've dated in my past, I've never, ever, felt this kind of intense attraction before.'

He didn't remove her hands this time, but neither did he touch her in return. Instead, his fingers curled into tight fists, and the muscles beneath her hand flexed oh-so-enticingly, revealing just how tense he'd become. 'Don't go there, Christine,' he said, his voice a rasp of sound in the shadowed kitchen.

'Oh, but I do want to go there. Badly.' Letting her lashes fall to half-mast, she slid her arms around his neck, stood up on tiptoe, and brushed her mouth across his. 'I want to know how real desire feels,' she whispered, teasing the seam of his lips with her tongue. 'I want to know what real passion tastes like.'

The rumbling of a groan vibrated against her mouth, encouraging her to forge ahead while she still had the chance. 'Kiss me, Ben.' She nibbled on his bottom lip and gently tugged it between her teeth. 'Please.'

Like a man pushed to the brink, he finally fell over the edge and Christine knew she was about to reap the benefits of all that raw, powerful masculinity he exuded. With a rough growl, he wrapped the fingers of one hand in her hair, encircled his other arm around her waist, and hauled her up against his body as his mouth came down on hers.

Hot.

Hard.

And deliciously demanding.

There was no sweetness in his kiss, but slow and romantic wasn't what she'd been after tonight. This all- consuming embrace was exactly what she wanted from Ben, and for the first time in her adult life she discovered that desire felt like the most exciting thrill-ride she'd ever taken. And passion… oh, Lord, passion tasted like searing heat, ravenous hunger, and insatiable lust all rolled into one.

The hand at the nape of her neck tightened, then he shifted and moved, turning her slightly, backing her up, until her shoulders hit the kitchen wall and he trapped her there with the insistent press of his thighs and hips against hers. The solid length of his erection branded her with a need so primal, she ached to feel every inch of him inside of her.

With her head now pinned against the flat surface, he slanted his mouth across hers and deepened the kiss farther, if that was at all possible. His tongue stroked across hers, and his big, strong hands wandered into more forbidden territory.

One palm glided down over the curve of her waist and around to her bottom while his other hand skimmed beneath the hem of her camisole. His thumb caressed the skin of her stomach, and she trembled in anticipation. Unrelenting fingers swept upward, until he finally enveloped her breast in his big, callused hand and squeezed the firm flesh.

She moaned against his mouth, and arousal, liquid and warm, spiraled its way down to her belly, then between her thighs. He rolled her taut nipple between his fingers and she automatically arched into him as a soft, mewling sound escaped her throat. Everything the man did, every illicit stroke and erotic caress, sent her soaring to a higher level of sensation, until she felt drenched in the most decadent pleasure of her life.

She wanted to touch him in return… everywhere. Wanted to make him burn with the same intoxicating fever spreading through her. As she smoothed both of her hands down his chest to his abdomen, then teased her fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants, his big body shuddered. Before she had the chance to pull on the drawstring that would give her access to his jutting erection, he abruptly ended the kiss. He jerked back, his breathing ragged.

Christine was disappointed, but not surprised by Ben's sudden retreat, especially when she witnessed the self- condemnation gradually filling his gaze. He had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, not when she'd been the one who'd instigated the kiss, and she opened her mouth to tell him so.

'Don't,' he ordered through clenched teeth as he pushed away from her. 'Don't say a damned thing. You got what you wanted, so let's just leave it at that.' He walked out of the kitchen without looking back, and a moment later she heard his bedroom door slam shut.

She winced, and had to resist the urge to follow after him and demand that they hash out this attraction between them right then and there. But it was painfully obvious to her that he was in no mood to talk about what had just happened, and she'd be stupid to push the issue when he wasn't in the right frame of mind to admit that their kiss had rocked his world, as much as it had hers.

And that was okay with her. Just knowing she'd been able to penetrate a few of Ben's stringent barriers was more than enough for her. For now.

Chapter Six

BEN knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. Four days had passed since he'd given in to temptation and kissed Christine, and he knew it was just a matter of time before something else happened. He could feel it in the air whenever Christine was near him. Could sense the subtle changes in her since that night-a sensual self-assurance that kept Ben on edge, waiting and wondering what her next plan of attack would be.

It didn't help matters that he was keenly aware of the woman, in every way. She walked by him, and that warm, vanilla scent clinging to her skin sent a shot of arousal straight to his groin. She laughed, and the sound captivated him. She'd always been flirtatious with him, but now when she sent a smile his way, it was filled with a sultry feminine knowledge and womanly confidence that didn't bode well for him and his good intentions.

So far, she'd behaved herself, but he suspected that was because of how busy she'd been with work. This week she'd spent a good twelve hours a day at the office, mostly preparing for an upscale charity gala for the Children's AIDS Foundation, which was scheduled for this upcoming Saturday and was being held at the St. Claire Hotel in downtown Chicago. From what she'd told him, Christine had been hired to handle the sponsors and silent auction portion of the social affair.

Now, as he relaxed on a very comfortable couch in the reception area of Christine's office where he could keep a close eye on her as she worked, Ben found it hard to believe that he was getting paid five figures to spend most of his days playing FreeCell on his laptop to pass the time. But there wasn't a whole lot to do while Christine and Madison fielded phone calls, accepted various deliveries that arrived for the silent auction, and spent hours discussing the best way to raise the most money for the Children's AIDS Foundation.

In all honesty, with nothing productive to do other than ensuring Christine's safety, he had far too much time on his hands to think about things he had no business dwelling on. Like how great her ass looked in the brown slim skirt she'd worn today, and how incredibly sexy her legs were in yet another pair of designer heels. Then there was that hot, mind-blowing kiss they'd shared that kept replaying over and over in his head. Except in his mind, instead of pulling away and ending the carnal embrace, he gave into the untamed need to strip off her clothes, bury himself deep inside her soft body, and forget the long list of reasons why getting involved with her was a very bad idea.

She'd told him she wanted to feel desire, and taste passion, and that was another thing he mulled over much too often, as well. How could she have been engaged and not have experienced desire or passion? It didn't seem possible, yet the vulnerable glimpse of emotion he'd seen in her gaze just before she'd kissed him wasn't something she could have faked.