“BecauseI’m the best broker known to mankind?” she teased.
“Yeah,that’s it,” he chuckled.
“Youknow, I’ve given what you said about Adrian a lot of thought, and you’reright.”
He shother a sidelong glance. “About what?”
“Forwhatever reason, he wasn’t all in—until too late, and maybe not even then.” Sheshrugged, tamping down the inevitable swell of guilt that accompanied thememory of the night she’d spent with Adrian. “I think my inner goddess deservessomeone worthier.”
Beckettarched an eyebrow. “I’d like to meet her.”
She letout a low laugh. “Thanks for that, Beck.”
“Adriancouldn’t see what was in front him. He didn’t deserve either of you, pixie.”
Hertoes tingled, and other parts followed.
Beckettscooped the onions, mushrooms, and peppers into the skillet. They sizzled andpopped, their aroma filling her nose while steamy sensations registered deepinside her.
“Sowhat’s the real reason signing me was one of your better decisions?” She didn’tlook at him. Just busied herself topping off their wineglasses.
He pushedthe frying bits around with a spatula. “It’s because I have this … this great thingwith you that’s like nothing I’ve had before,” he said softly. “I often wonderhow much better it could be.”
Tinglesslithered from her toes up to her scalp, and dragonfly wings beat a tattoo inher stomach. “What do you mean?”
Hismouth curled up on one side. “Something more than … well, just more.”
“Beck,I—”
“I getit. You don’t want to rush into anything—especially with a ‘player,’ even areformed one—so I’m not pushing.” He scraped out the onion scramble, thenpoured in an egg mixture that made a wet sputtering noise when it hit theskillet.
Thefluttering in her stomach became electrified, and she stared at him, but hefaced the cooktop and didn’t see her expression. Taking in his angled profile,his strong jaw, his broad back, her knees jellied. “I might not mind youpushing … a little.”
Heswiveled his head and speared her eyes with his. Amusement had gleamed there,but it shifted as realization seemed to dawn on him, supplanted by somethingfar different. Blatant hunger.
Thespatula hit the counter. His hands reached out, cradling her face.
“I’vewanted to do this since New Year’s,” he murmured right before his mouth closedon hers. The kiss started slow, his thumbs feathering her cheeks while hesoftly sucked each lip. Just as softly, his tongue danced its way to hers. Hewedged his body against the counter beside her and leaned in.
Shesnaked her hands around his neck, her fingers burrowing in his downy hair asshe wordlessly invited him to explore her mouth. He tasted like bourbon andwine and green pepper. Starving for more, she traced his tongue withhers—tasting, savoring—then parried with him before sweeping into the moistdepths of his mouth. A groan rose in his throat, and he splayed his handsacross her back, drawing her against him. The kiss heated, their breathingaccelerating, their lips fusing, their tongues rolling over one other’s. Whilehe tangled one hand in her hair, the other roved over her back, leaving a trailof heat wherever it touched. She dug her fingers into the muscles spanning hisshoulders, and he tightened his grasp on her.
Littlemewling noises escaped her despite her efforts to cage them, answered by hisdeepening growls. Lost in his mouth on hers, in the heady scent of him, shecast her mind adrift and let her body do what it had craved doing for so longas she pressed herself to him.
Anunpleasant smell, sharp and acrid, hit her, and her eyes flew open. A cloud ofsmoke billowed from the cooktop.
Breathingheavily, she jerked away. “Beck! The omelet!”
“Shit!”He cranked off the gas and recovered the spatula, flipping a smoking, charredmass onto a plate which he promptly dumped into the sink and doused. Shepressed her lips together to keep from giggling—and to catch her breath. Hischest heaving, he looked at her through the steam and grinned. “Smokin’ hotkiss!”
“Theregoes dinner.”
Thegrin slipped from his face. He stepped back to her and nudged her thighs apart,planting his body between them, a glacial fire kindling in his eyes as theyzeroed in on her lips. He drew her to him and lowered his mouth to her throat,whispering, “I’m not hungry for food.”
Chillsdanced along her spine. She dropped her head back to give him a bigger targetand glided her hands up his arms, relishing the ropes of muscle beneath herfingertips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he slid her off thecounter and into his grasp.
Hepulled back, his eyes scanning her face until they fixed on hers. “Should Istop?”
“God,no.”
Asultry sax melody floated around them as he angled toward the bedroom. Shenibbled his neck, tasting his sweetly salty skin, breathing in the scent ofspice and him—laced with a hint of smoke.
She wasstepping from solid ground into quicksand. And she didn’t care.
.~ * * * ~.
His stomach dancing in knots, Beckett rid Andie of her baggyclothes, unveiling a lacy white bra and panties. Despite the desire simmeringin his veins, he held himself in check. But then she undressed him,skimming her hands and lips over him as she went, treating his clothes asthough they were a gold wrapper she peeled off a forbidden confection. Slowly.Sensually. Tasting, savoring what she uncovered. It made him hard as a brick,and he liked her seeing how she affected him. What she did, and the way she didit, almost had him getting dressed so she’d strip him again. It was the mosterotic disrobing he’d ever experienced.
“Myturn.” He unfastened her bra, sliding the straps off her shoulders, letting itfall at their feet. He caressed her breasts in wonder, cupping them, weighingthem, tracing her pearled peaks with his thumbs. Her breath hitched as hedelighted in exploring her. Then he skimmed his hands over her sides, pullingher panties down her smooth legs. Balancing against him, she stepped out ofthem.
Hestudied every beautiful inch of her in the glow of a bedside
