Natural Blond Instincts

She was gone before Kenna could say a word, not that she’d say the only words that might have stopped her cousin.

The words that said maybe, just maybe, Wes was the man for Kenna.

KENNA ENTERED the fabulous Los Angeles Mallory two hours later, at eleven o’clock. The place was a palace of glass and exotic plants, with amazing lighting, and again, the trademark antiques everywhere.

But Kenna didn’t see any of that as she checked in. Because her report was burning a hole in her bag, and because the meeting wasn’t until four, she asked which room Wes was in. Then she dropped her things off in her room-all except her report-and immediately went back out again. It was time to talk to him.

In front of Wes’s door, she drew in a deep breath, glanced at her watch and knocked.

“Hang on,” he said through his door. After a minute it opened a crack. No glasses in sight, he peered out, squinting. “Kenna?”

He wore only a towel, which was a bit of a shock. His hair and body were damp. A drop of water ran down his throat to his chest. Another drop slid over his ribs to the flattest belly she’d ever seen, dipping into his belly button before continuing its trail lower, disappearing into the towel to regions hidden.

At the thought of those regions, her knees actually knocked together.

And she forgot all about her report. Forgot why she stood there, tongue hanging out.

Stay on track. His body-perfect as it was-was not the issue. But suddenly she forgot the issue altogether.

Luckily he hadn’t forgotten anything. He looked at the papers in her hand. “What’s that?”

She forced her eyes upward, past his body and into his eyes. “Um…”

“Your report? You finally going to let me look at it? Well, come on in, then.”

He hadn’t unpacked, his bag was on the floor in the bathroom, which was still steamy from his shower. She tossed the report to the dresser. “Sorry to catch you at a bad time. Wes-”

“What?”

“Um…” she tried not to look at him and failed. “Seeing you half naked is weird.”

“Weird like ‘yuck put your clothes on’ or weird like ‘whoa, baby, I don’t think I can keep my hands off you’?”

She laughed. How was it he always made her laugh? “Definitely choice B.”

He looked at her, squinted, then grabbed his glasses. As he put them on, their gazes caught in the mirror over the dresser. Caught and held.

“Okay,” he said. “And now here’s another multiple choice question. Is this A, pure lust, or B, mingled in with say…a general affection?”

She lifted her gaze from his chest. “Again, I have to go with B.”

He smiled, and it made her so dizzy she backed up, looking for a seat. Her thighs hit the mattress and she sank to it.

He took another step and his legs bumped her knees.

He didn’t look like an important, successful VP at the moment, he looked like a bronzed, pagan god. His chest had a patch of dark hair that looked soft. She wanted to touch. His thighs were taut and powerful. She wanted to touch them, too.

And between them, at just her eye level, behind the white towel, was an interesting bulge that made her mouth go dry.

“Just one more question.” He bent over her, putting his free hand-the one not holding up his towel-against her right hip, caging her in with his broad shoulders, his beautiful, rugged face on a plane with hers.

If he straightened, she’d be just about mouth level with his-

Don’t go there.

“Are you enjoying the view? Wishing you were wearing just a towel, too?”

“All of the above,” she whispered. His eyes were dark and full of such heat. She knew hers were, too, and also surprise because maybe she’d been blind, but she hadn’t expected to feel like this about him.

Or maybe, more honestly, she’d known it all along and just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

“I’m sure as hell enjoying the view,” he whispered. “Of you on my bed.” He tossed his glasses aside. Apparently he didn’t need to see for this. His hands cupped her face, tilted it up for his mouth, which she met more than halfway.

A part of her wanted to look down, to see if his towel had slipped away, but then his tongue met hers, danced in a rhythm that made her hips arch up, seeking that contact with his. She wanted this, craved it and reached for him.

He kissed her again and again, stealing what little breath she had left. His mouth was as firm as the rest of him, and when he finally lifted his head, she was halfway to orgasmic bliss, from just a kiss. Needing his hands back on her, needing him deep inside her, she squirmed, but he just looked at her.

So she bit the hard sinew of his shoulder.

“That way, then?” he murmured, and she found herself flat on her back, arms over her head, staring up into one hundred and eighty pounds of aroused muscle.

“Um…hi,” she said.

“Hi. You wanted me to hurry?” He dipped his head to her breast.

“Yes, please.”

“I don’t like to rush.” Through the silk of her blouse, he pulled her into his mouth, and when her nipple instantly hardened, he very gently nipped at it with his teeth.

The low, hoarse sound that jerked from her throat might have mortified her in its clear neediness, if she hadn’t already been so far gone.

He simply continued his assault on her body and senses, only now he nuzzled his way between the buttons of her blouse, and when one gave way, he nosed aside the material to kiss the slope of her other breast, grazing that nipple as well. Then, diving beneath the lacy cup of her bra, began to suckle.

Kenna arched up, writhing beneath him, making dark, horribly needy whimpers she couldn’t contain. Her blouse was open to him now, spread wide so that he could touch her at will.

“I’ve wanted to see this,” he murmured, dipping his tongue to her navel, and the little gold ring she had there. One of his hands roamed down her belly, over her thighs to her calves, then slowly back up, beneath the material of her skirt. Her legs fell open, needing his touch on the part of her throbbing with every single heartbeat, but he merely stroked his fingers over her inner thighs until she thought she would die.

Just an inch to the right, she thought desperately, move those fingers an inch to the right.

He didn’t.

Maybe he’d get there by accident, and she scooted, arched, urged, needing that one little stroke to explode.

His tantalizing fingers dancing closer, just a little closer…

She thrust her hips upward, on a shameless mission now-

“Kenna.”

Don’t talk, just…do!

“Kenna.”

“What?”

“Open your eyes.”

They flew open, locked on his dark, dark gaze.

“Watch,” he whispered, and stroked her over her wet panties.

With her eyes open she could see his face. His intense expression. The sheen of his skin. The huge erection bouncing free since he’d lost his towel.

He did have a care in the world. A very big one.

“Now,” he whispered, and slipped a finger beneath her panties, unerringly stroking the one spot designed to make her go wild.

She did. She went wild. Colors exploded behind her eyes, blinding her. She went deaf, too, but not mute, and when she sobbed out his name, he towered over her, kissing her back to earth. She was halfway back, still