“I had no intention of letting it happen, but it did.”
She’s silent for a long moment, then she shakes her head as if to deny what I’m saying, not only to me but to herself. “You must be drunk, Jared. Again.”
She tries to pull out of my grasp, but I can’t loosen my hold. “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in two full days. Not since the last time I saw you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth.”
Mistrust still darkens her gaze, but there is curiosity there, too. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just . . . wanted you to know. Maybe I needed to prove to myself I could get through a day without it. Maybe I wanted to prove it to you.”
I step closer, when I should be stepping away. “It doesn’t matter why, though, because I need to let you go.”
She doesn’t blink, doesn’t take her eyes off me, as if she’s facing a wild, lethal animal and isn’t sure whether she wants to run or stand and fight. “You still have your hand on me, Jared.”
I incline my head. “I do. Tell me to let go and I will.”
She draws in a breath. “Is that what you want me to do?”
“It’s what I should want.” And yet my fingers contract even more, clamped around her delicate wrist like a shackle. I bring my other hand up to her face, helpless to keep from stroking my fingers along the velvety slope of her cheek. I curse, low under my breath. “I had myself convinced it was what I wanted, until you stormed in here all pissed off and looking sexy as hell.”
Her gaze is still wary on me, but her lips quirk just a little. “You have a thing for pink gingham polyester and white tights?”
I scowl and pull her closer. “I have a thing for you, Ms. Laurent. In case you haven’t noticed.”
At the moment, it would be impossible for her not to notice. The hard-on she gave me on sight when she arrived hasn’t abated at all. Now that there are scant inches to separate us, the heat of her nearness, the scent of her flushed skin and fragrant hair, sends all my faculties into overdrive.
I let my hand move down from the side of her face to the elegant column of her neck. She shivers, her breath leaving her in a soft, unsteady sigh. “I’m mad at you, Jared.”
I smile against her heated skin. “I know, but you’re still going to let me kiss you.”
If she intends to deny it, the words are swept away by another quivery exhalation as I lower my head so I can taste the tender skin below her ear. She’s sweet and warm against my parted lips, her quiet moan vibrating against my tongue. The curse I hiss through my gritted teeth is a dead giveaway for how close to the edge I am already with her.
I draw back and find her gaze heavy-lidded and simmering with the same desire that’s streaking through me.
But there is a trace of mistrust in those storm-colored eyes, too. “Why did you leave the way you did the other day?”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
“I need you to tell me.”
“You know the answer.” My voice rumbles out of me in a growl. “Because after you kissed me, I knew if I didn’t go there’d be no stopping what came next. No stopping this,” I murmur, as I lower my head and cover her mouth with mine.
There’s no resistance in her at all now, not in the way she melts deeper into my embrace, nor in the way she meets my kiss with equal, burning desire. Her arms move around me, one hand fisted in the fabric of my shirt at my back, the other reaching up to tangle in my loose hair.
The arousal that’s owned me from the moment I first laid eyes on her weeks ago in my club now erupts in a need I can no longer deny.
I push my tongue past her parted lips on a snarl. She never should have come here—not with Hathaway that first night, not to pose for me in order to save the son of a bitch, and sure as hell not today, after I gave her a fighting chance to keep well enough away.
I still have time to put a stop to this. If I slam on the brakes and push her away now, I know she’ll never be back. It’s a thought I should reach for like a life line. Instead, I shove it away and fill my hands with more of Melanie’s softness.
A tug of the elastic band holding her hair up brings the flame-hued waves tumbling down around my hand. I twist the silken mass around my fist and drag her closer, tipping her head back so my mouth can feast even more feverishly on hers.
She moans my name, her pulse galloping so hard I can feel it pound against my lips and every other place our bodies are melded together.
As hot as she looks in her little pink waitress uniform, I need it gone. I find the zipper behind her neck and draw it down, baring her from her tender nape to the small of her back.
“I want you naked,” I mutter, my voice thick with need.
She helps me slide the one-piece dress off her shoulders and down the length of her beautiful body. The tights and shoes come off next, leaving her standing before me in just her modest white lace bra and panties.
As impatient as I am to have her beneath me, I take my time unwrapping the rest of her. A flick of my thumb frees the clasp of her bra, baring the pretty swells of her perfect breasts. I catch the fullness of one of them in
