Maybe he was gay.
She pursed her lips. “Is there going to be yelling involved?”
A muscle in his jaw clenched as his frown deepened. “It’s a high probability,” he assured her.
She shrugged, her damp hair falling over her shoulders. “Okay, just checking.”
Sam reached out and shackled her wrist. The warmth of his skin chased the chill from her body. She kept pace as he negotiated them through the crowd and into the front lobby of his building. God, if he had this much passion when he was angry, she could only imagine how much he’d have when he was aroused. Damned if she didn’t want to find out.
Once inside, he twisted around and leveled her with a glare. He muffled curses under his breath. “Do you have any idea…”
He stopped mid-sentence and hesitated. His simmering blue eyes flitted across her face before panning downward, registering every detail of her rain-soaked clothes. Had his gaze just lingered around the vicinity of her breasts?
So maybe he wasn’t gay.
She acknowledged the flare of desire deep between her thighs as her body hummed in anticipation. She wondered if he could see the telltale hardening of her nipples beneath her wet, breast-hugging sweater.
She shivered, water dripping from her clothes and pooling at her feet. His features softened as his attention drifted back to her face. “We need to get you out of those clothes.” Like a blanket of warmth, his seductive cadence heated her from the inside out. He brushed a damp lock from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, an intimate gesture that sent shockwaves rocketing through her. A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Right now,” he insisted, his voice sounding tight as he panned her body-molding clothes a second time.
A slow, lazy grin tugged at her mouth as her lust-drunk mind envisioned those strong hands disrobing her. Her gaze journeyed over his fine athletic body, taking in his low-slung scrubs and matching, short-sleeved, loose-fitting pale green top. She devoured every delicious detail as a curious tingle rushed through her bloodstream.
His brows knit together with concern. She recognized that look. It was the same motherly look of concern she’d seen her sister-in-law Sarah give her three-year-old nephew, Matt, when he’d come down with the flu a few months back.
“Before you catch pneumonia,” he added.
The grin slipped from her face as her bliss disappeared. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. Gay. Throwing her hands up, she nodded in understanding. “Of course, pneumonia. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
He slipped his arm under hers and guided her to the security counter. “I keep an extra pair of scrubs in my lab. You can wear those, and then we need to talk.”
Talk!
Didn’t he know talking was overrated?
Especially when there were so many other things they could be doing.
As they moved through the foyer, across the wide expanse of marble floor, Sam angled his head and took in the wet erotic vision before him.
Cat Nichols.
He was convinced the drenched she-devil had been put on earth to try his patience. Had she never heard of a damn umbrella?
His blood ignited to near boiling as he allowed himself a brief luxurious moment to conjure up the image of him peeling off her soaked thigh-hugging jeans and breast-molding sweater.
Fuck. His damn future was at stake and all he could think about was sex. Terrific. That’s what he got for burying himself in his work and going without the finer things in life for the last six months. And by finer, he meant Cat Nichols.
He commanded himself to redirect his thoughts as they approached the security counter. After he hastily signed her in and fitted her with a “visitor” pass, he watched the sway of her lush ass as she stepped onto the waiting elevator. He closed his eyes against the flood of heat gravitating south. Lord, what he’d do to cradle that hot little backside in his palms. Temptation like he’d never before experienced swamped him, prompting his dick into action.
He clenched his jaw and bit back a moan. The last thing he needed was a fucking hard-on in his unforgiving scrubs. A public display of his current aroused state ranked right up there with the time he’d gotten an erection during his seventh-grade gym class when Jessica Johnson had worn her short shorts. It was not one of his finer moments. It had been a long time since a woman had made him feel like a lusty, hormone-driven teen on date night. And here he’d thought he’d gotten control over those unexpected risings. Talk about the second coming!
A low growl rumbled from the depths of his throat and reverberated off the metal walls, despite his best efforts to stifle it.
Cat swatted her hair from her forehead and turned around to face him. “What was that?”
Ignoring her question, he jabbed the elevator button and leaned against the wall. He met her glance but wished he hadn’t. Seductive green eyes dusted with tiny flecks of honey stared up at him. Cat eyes. Hence, the nickname, no doubt. Her blonde hair hung over slender shoulders, nestling against the gentle slope of her breasts. He’d just bet that sun-kissed color hadn’t come from a bottle. His fingers clenched and unclenched as his gaze dropped to her waistband. Lust clawed to the surface as he perused her. She seemed completely unaware of her allure or how much she stirred his libido and fired his blood.
“Sam?”
The sweet melodic sound of her voice resonated through his body and pulled him back. He tried to hold onto his anger but it melted around the edges as his eyes met hers.
“Yeah?”
“What was that you said?”
“Nothing.”
Shivering, she hugged herself and leaned toward him. Cat lifted one perfect brow. “I could have sworn you just said something.”
He rolled one shoulder and hedged. “The elevator is old. It makes
