Strong And Sexy

their honeymoon. So yeah, I seriously doubt they’re…talking.”

“Yeah. See…” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I was hoping for that.”

“Talking.”

“No. The not talking.”

Silence.

And then more silence.

Oh, God.

Slowly she tipped her head up and looked at him, but he wasn’t laughing at her.

A good start, she figured.

In fact, his eyes were no longer smiling at all, but full of a heart-stopping heat. “Can you repeat that request?” he asked.

Well, yes, she could, but it would make his possible rejection that much harder to take. “I was wondering your stance on being seduced by a woman who isn’t really so good at this sort of thing, but wants to be better…”

He blinked. “Just to be clear.” His voice was soft, gravelly, and did things to every erogenous zone in her body. “Is this you coming on to me?”

“Oh, God.” She covered her face. “If you don’t know, then I’m even worse at this than I thought. Yes. Yes, that’s what I’m pathetically attempting to do. Come on to you, a complete stranger in a closet, but now I’m hearing it as you must be hearing it, and I sound like the lunatic that everyone thinks I am, and-”

His hands settled on her bare arms, gliding up, down, and then back up again, over her shoulders to her face, where he gently pulled her hands away so he could see her.

“I saw the mistletoe,” she rushed to explain. “It’s everywhere. And people were kissing. And I couldn’t get kissing off my mind…God. Forget it, okay? Just forget me.” She took a step back, but because this was her, she tripped over something on the floor behind her. She’d have fallen on her ass if he hadn’t held her upright. “Thanks,” she managed. “But I need to go now. I really need to go-”

He put a finger to her lips.

Right. Stop talking. Good idea.

His eyes, still hot, and also a little amused-because that’s what she wanted to see in a man’s eyes after she’d tried to seduce him, amusement-locked onto hers. She couldn’t look away. There was just something about the way he was taking her in, as if he could see so much more than she’d intended him to. “Seriously. I’ve-”

He turned away.

Okaaaay…“Got to go.”

But he was rustling through one of the shelves. Then he bent to look lower and she tried not to look at his butt. She failed, of course. “Um, yeah. So I’ll see you around.” Or not. Hopefully not-

“Got it.” Straightening, he revealed what he held-a sprig of mistletoe.

“Oh,” she breathed. Her heart skipped a beat, then raced, beating so loud and hard she couldn’t hear anything but the blood pumping through her veins.

His mouth quirked slightly, but his eyes held hers, and in them wasn’t amusement so much as…

Pure staggering heat.

“Did you change your mind?” he asked.

Was he kidding? She wanted to jump him. Now. “No.”

With a smile that turned her bones to mush, he raised his arm so that the mistletoe was above their heads.

Oh, God.

“Your move,” he whispered.

She looked at his mouth, her own tingling in anticipation. “Maybe you could…”

“Oh, no. I’m not taking advantage of a woman in a closet, drenched in champagne.” He smiled. “But if she wanted to take advantage of me, now see, that’s a different story entirely.”

He was teasing her, his eyes lit with mischievousness and a wicked, wicked intent.

“I’m a klutz,” she whispered. “I might hurt you by accident.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and he closed his eyes and puckered up, making her laugh some more, making it okay for her to lean in…

And kiss him.

Chapter 3

Shayne felt her mouth touch his. Oh yeah, life was good, damn good.

She was tentative. Jerky. As if maybe she hadn’t kissed in a while. It was the most arousing sensation, but right then and there, he knew. The one quick peck? Not going to be enough.

Dropping the mistletoe, he cupped her face, his fingers gliding into her silky hair to hold her head as he better lined them up.

Her hands lifted, hovering in the air for a beat before settling on his chest. A soft little murmur of wanting escaped her, and just like that, he went insta-hard. Her fingers dug into the material of his shirt, holding on just a little, telling him she felt the same, telling him he wasn’t alone in this odd sensation of not wanting to let go, not ever wanting to let go.

And he didn’t even know her name…

She opened her mouth a little, but that was all the invitation his tongue needed, and then her tongue and his were doing a slow dance, an age-old imitation of what he really wanted to be doing, and she was right there with him, and when they finally both pulled back, her eyes fluttered open. “Wow,” she whispered.

Yeah. Definitely wow.

“That was…” At a loss, she let out a low laugh. “I don’t even have the words.”

Him either. That kiss had just registered off the scale for first kisses. Not really understanding why, he stroked a strand of hair from her face, then left his fingers on her because she was tightening her grip on his shirt, tugging ever so slightly, her gaze back on his mouth…

“That was…” she repeated.

“Wow,” he reminded her.

“So wow.” She licked her lips, and then they lurched at each other and went at it again, deeper than before. Wetter.

Hotter.

Her hair fell the rest of the way, assisted by his fingers, and the second pencil hit the floor. She arched against him, bumping into the zipper of his pants. Apparently she liked what she felt behind that zipper because she let out a little gasping “oh,” and then a sound of pleasure from deep in her throat as her arms tightened around his neck, her hair flying all around them.

God. He was in a closet, with an entire lobby full of people on the other side, important people that he’d brought here with his family connections so that he could further Sky High Air’s business, and what was he doing?

Making out in a closet like a high-school kid.

Only there was nothing high school about the mystery kisser in his arms. Christ, no. She was all woman, straining up on the tiptoes of her one-heeled foot to get closer. Closer worked for him. He hoisted her just a little higher so that he could rock his hips into hers, so that her breasts pressed into his chest.

Her shoe hit the floor.

It didn’t stop her, didn’t stop either of them. She let go of his shirt to entwine her arms around his neck. He let go of her head to slide his hands down her arms, up her slim spine, bared by that dress so he was touching smooth, silky skin. Hauling her closer, he turned, pressing her back against the door, where they strained against each other some more, the champagne from her dress soaking into his shirt.

He didn’t care.

But she slowly pulled back, breathing hard. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on his, glazed and dazed. Her