surprised her.
She automatically moved closer to the fire. “I wish I could offer you coffee or something.”
He rose to his feet in the flickering light. His short hair was damp, and his cotton shirt was plastered to his chest. Power and masculinity seemed to ooze from every pore.
He eased closer, and she was instantly awash in desire.
“Coffee’s not what I want.”
She was dying to ask, but she didn’t dare. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, warning herself that the slightest encouragement was going to bring his lips crashing down on hers, and they’d be trapped all over again in the tangle of desire.
His lips came down on hers, anyway.
And she might have stretched up slightly to meet him.
Okay, she’d definitely stretched up. And she’d tilted her head to accommodate him. And now she was opening her mouth, meeting his tongue, snaking her arms around his neck and pressing her body tightly against his own.
His clothes were damp, but she didn’t care. His hands were roaming, and she loved it. His mouth was sure and strong, but still tender, and oh, so hot.
Passion quickly obliterated reason. She clung tightly as his nimble hands pulled down the zipper of her dress. He eased it over her head and discarded it on a chair. He worked at the buttons of his shirt, alternating between kissing her and staring deeply into her eyes. His were nearly black with passion, while desire pulsed through every fiber of her body.
Her hands went to his jeans, popping the button, sliding the zipper.
He groaned, tossed his shirt and pulled her back into his arms. His kisses roamed her cheeks, her neck and down to where he pushed her bra out of the way. His hot mouth surrounded a nipple, and she threw her head back, her hands grasping his shoulders for support.
He wrapped a strong arm firmly around the small of her back, holding her steady, his mouth sending sparks of desire from her breasts to the base of her belly. He released her bra, dropping it to the floor. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the small bedroom.
The sheets were cool against her bare back. She could barely make out his outline as he discarded the remainder of his clothes. Then his warm, hard, musk-scented body was sliding next to her, and she was enveloped in kisses and caresses that seared heat over every inch of her skin.
She kissed his chest, tasting his salty skin, her hands roaming down his back, over his buttocks, along his strong thighs.
He groaned his approval, kissing her deeply. “You are gorgeous,” he breathed. He kissed her again. His fingers found their way into her flimsy panties.
She gasped at his touch, flexing her hips, transmitting an unmistakable invitation.
He peeled off her panties, produced a condom from somewhere, and covered her body with his own. Their bodies were flush together, tight at the apex, and her legs were wrapped around his waist.
He kissed her deeply, sliding his hands to her bottom, adjusting the angle of their bodies as he eased inside. Driving rain splattered against the bedroom window. Lightning chased across the sky while thunder vibrated the cottage walls.
Then the world around Melissa disappeared. Nothing existed beyond Jared, and every sensation was magnified a thousand times, his touch, his scent, the taste of his skin, the sound of his voice as he recited her name, calling her beautiful, urging her on.
Their tempo increased. The hot and cold and electric sensations heightening to unbearable. As thunder crashed around them, her body stiffened. Her toes curled. Her hoarse voice cried out Jared’s name as she tumbled from the pinnacle down into the exquisite arms of release.
As she floated to earth, Jared tucked a quilt around them. He turned slightly to the side, keeping them locked together, but taking his weight from her body.
Their deep breaths rose in unison, both of them sucking the moisture-laden oxygen from the dark room, recovering, reframing, realizing the magnitude of what they’d just done.
“I’m not sure that was such a good idea,” she ventured on a gasp.
He didn’t let her go. Didn’t back off a single inch. “Because you work for me?” he mumbled against her neck.
“At least for tonight,” she ventured, instead, “do you think we could be clear that I work for Stephanie?”
Jared’s chuckle rumbled through his frame. “So what’s the problem?”
“I’m leaving in a few days.”
He smoothed her hair from her forehead. “Just because something’s short, doesn’t mean it can’t be fantastic.”
“I suppose.” If you took away her deception, a one-night stand certainly wasn’t the end of the world. But eventually he was going to find out her true identity.
She couldn’t do anything to change the past hour, but she did need to control herself going forward. Not that she’d
But she did need to back off. She couldn’t let their circumstances get even more complicated.
She eased away from his warmth. “Stephanie’s probably counting the minutes you’ve been down here.”
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“I think that would be best.”
He stilled, and she assumed he was staring at her in the dark.
A lightning bolt lit up the room, and his stark expression of disappointment tugged at her heart.
“I think it would be best,” she repeated, wanting nothing more than to burrow down under the covers and sleep in Jared’s warm arms for the rest of the night. But she had to be strong.
He rolled from the bed. “Of course.” There was a tightness to his voice that bordered on anger.
She closed her ears to it and clung to the passion they’d shared.
His jeans rustled. Then he padded into the living room.
She held her breath while he dressed. Would he come back? Say something more? Kiss her goodbye?
Suddenly his silhouette appeared in the doorway. “Good night,” he offered without coming back inside.
“Good night,” she echoed, struggling to keep the hollowness from her voice. She’d asked him to leave. She was silly to feel hurt.
He waited a moment more, then turned away, heading out into the storm.
The truck engine rumbled to life. The headlights flared up. Then the big treaded tires churned their way over the muddy road.
Melissa dragged herself from the bed. She wrapped a robe around her body, retrieved her laptop, powered it up and forced her thoughts back to the discussion at dinner. The fling with Jared might be over, but she still had her job to save.
“Seth Strickland,” came the terse answer at the other end of the phone.
It was morning. The rain had stopped, and the lights were back on as Stephanie had predicted. Melissa was dressed in blue jeans and a simple tank top again, trying to push the insanity that had become her life back into perspective.
“Seth?” she said into the phone, thanking her lucky stars that he was in the office on a Saturday. “It’s Melissa.”
“Where the hell have you been?” he shouted without preamble.
She wasn’t ready to answer that question yet. “If I could
“No! And what the hell are you talking about? Why didn’t you call me back yesterday?”
“I’m in Montana.”
“You said you were working from home.”
“I’m at the Ryder Ranch. Right now. I had dinner with Jared Ryder last night.”
