“Uh-uh.” She shook her head.
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
His hands slid their way down to her wrists, and he backed her tighter against the door. “Okay. Then that’s pretty hot.”
She tipped her chin. “You’re pretty hot.”
“I’m about to get hotter.” His eyes turned to molten chocolate, and a split second later he was kissing her mouth, harder, deeper. One hand slipped up her back, finding her zipper, pulling it down. The tight bodice gave way.
In return, she reached for his shirt buttons, plunking the disks through the open holes, revealing his chest, running her fingers over his bare skin.
He gave a tug on her dress, and it slid to the floor, freeing her bare breasts and pooling in a heap around her feet.
He drew back, his breath whistling out. “Where have you been hiding all my life?”
“Colorado.” She pulled his shirttails out of his pants, and stripped the shirt off his shoulders.
He was absolutely magnificent, and they both stilled, staring at each other in silence.
He lifted his broad hand, cupping her face with his palm, leaning in ever so slowly. Her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled deeper. Her lips parted, and she eased toward him, twining her arms around his neck, feeling his heated skin press tight against her breasts, as his lips came down in a tender kiss that drew itself out for long minutes.
His free hand slipped over the curve of her hip. There, his fingers paused, slipping beneath the strand of her panties. His other hand slid up to cup her breast. Her nipples instantly beaded, and his palm closed around her. His kisses grew more insistent, longer, until they were both gasping for breath.
He kissed her neck, dipping to a breast, drawing the taut nipple into his mouth. Her hands fisted hard, and she moaned at a sensation she’d never experienced. What was he doing? How was he doing it?
Cool air replaced the heat of his mouth, and she loved the contrast. He switched to the other breast, causing cascades of desire to roll through her.
She needed to do something.
She was just standing here.
She ran her palms up his chest, feeling the burn of his skin, testing the muscles she knew would be steel hard. Then she worked her way down, over the six-pack of his abs, to the waistband of his pants, popping the button and lowering his zipper.
He grabbed her wrist. “I want this to go slow.”
“Sure,” she agreed, even though her mind screamed for speed. She brushed her knuckles against him.
“You want it slow?” he growled.
“No.”
He stilled for a second. Then he hoisted her into his arms. “Good.”
He turned in the foyer, cutting across the oversize room, past the sofa, the armchair and television. He set her on her feet next to a king-size bed.
His hands went to his waistband, stripping off his pants and everything else.
She kicked off her sandals and dispensed with the panties.
She straightened, and they both stilled.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and she felt the edge of her mouth draw into a smile.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” She dared to reach out, tracing her index finger along his smooth, warm chest. He looked even better out of his clothes than he had in them, and that was saying something.
He took a half step forward. “Is this a dream?”
“I sure hope not.”
“Things like this. Things like you don’t happen in real life.”
“I’m real.”
“You’re amazing.”
Impatient, she took his hand, backing her way to the bed, where she sank down.
His gaze stayed molten on her naked body as he extracted a packet from his wallet and dropped the wallet to the floor.
“I can make this slow,” he offered again.
She shook her head. “You’re my torrid one-night stand.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered.
She smiled saucily in return. This was the only time she was ever going to do this, and she was going to get it right. “Show me what you’ve got.”
He cupped his hands beneath her arms, lifting her, pushing her farther onto the bed, laying her back. His voice was a deep baritone, rumbling through her. “Seriously. Where in the hell have you been all my life?”
She didn’t have time to answer because his mouth came down on hers. His body covered her own, pressing her against the soft mattress.
He toured her body with rapid but thorough kisses, while she explored the contours and angles of his. Within minutes, they were face-to-face, him on top, staring into each other’s eyes in the dimly lit room.
He flexed, and she moaned, welcoming him inside, arching her back, wrapping her legs, as he set an insistent rhythm that made her head tip back and her eyes close tight. Desire overwhelmed her, and she gripped the comforter, straining for his kisses, her toes curling as he inflamed the passion at her core.
Time lost all meaning. Her body felt somehow weightless. Reality contracted to the feel, the scent and the sound of this man. His ragged breath murmured in her ear. His damp body scorched her skin. And she dragged his essence into her lungs, holding it tight, imprinting it on her subconscious so she could relive it over and over again.
She held on as long as she could, not wanting it to end. But it was a losing battle. A pulse began deep inside her, building to a tidal wave of ecstasy. She clung tightly to him, her cries mingling with his groans, as she crested for an eternity, the intense rush leaving her limp and gasping.
Her chest rose and fell against Lucky’s comfortable weight. He braced himself on his elbows, rising slightly above her, sweat glistening his brow, breath fanning from between his parted lips.
They stared at each other in silence.
“That was…” His breathless voice trailed away.
She was similarly struggling for words. “It was,” she agreed.
His smile widened. “Somehow we both seem to know just the right thing to say.”
A small chuckle formed in her chest. “What do you usually say?”
He smoothed her hair behind one ear. “I have no comparables. You have no comparables. You are one of a kind, Doll-Face.”
“That was an awfully good line,” she acknowledged.
“It wasn’t a line.”
They both fell silent, their breathing synchronizing.
His tone when low and intimate. “Should I ask if it was good for you?”
It was the best sex she’d ever had. Hands down.
Without waiting for an answer, he shifted, taking more of his own weight. “You want that wine now, or are you ready for breakfast?”
Abigail glanced to the digital clock glowing on the nightstand. It was four-thirty in the morning. She blinked against grainy exhaustion. “It’s pretty much a toss-up between night and morning, isn’t it?”
He eased onto his side, propping himself on his elbow, one thigh staying angled across her legs. He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. “I’d like it to still be night.”
She drank in the sensation of that intimate touch. “I’d like it to still be dinner.”
He eased closer. “So we can start our evening all over again?”
She pretended he might have it wrong. “Yeah. Sure. Well, that and the mountain burger.”
Closer still, he brought his teeth gently down on her earlobe. “Liar.”
“Egomaniac.”
