"A dentist, huh? Well, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why he eyeballed you like he wanted to clean your teeth-with his tongue."

She blinked in obvious surprise, then raised her eyebrows. "Did it ever occur to you that if he looked at me that way it might be because he found me attractive-not because he was a dentist?"

Damn it, he felt like an ass. A disgruntled ass. A jealous, disgruntled ass. He should have kept his mouth shut. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. It was very obvious that he found you attractive." Giving himself a severe mental shake, he forced a smile. "Can't fault the guy on his taste."

"Thank you." For several seconds her gaze searched his. "For a minute there you sounded like a jealous lover."

It was impossible to tell from her tone if that idea annoyed or pleased her. Opting for the unvarnished truth, he said, "I am a jealous lover-right now. Starting Tuesday, I won't be, but for the short remainder of this three-day weekend, you're mine." He shot her a questioning look. "Unless you've had a change of heart?"

"No," she said quickly.

A breath he hadn't even realized he held eased from him, and he refused to examine the depth of his relief.

"So, how was your massage?" she asked.

I need another one, thanks to Brad the dentist. "It was great. How about the facial?"

She closed her eyes and gave an exaggerated shiver. "Incredible. I feel like a new woman."

"Yeah? Hard to believe you could feel any better than you already did." Reaching out, he grasped her hand, and brought it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her palm, liking the way her eyes darkened at the gesture. "I vote we skip the drinks and go upstairs so you can show me all that gorgeous, pampered skin."

Her gaze skimmed over him in a way that hiked his blood pressure into the danger zone. "Hmmm. Will you show me all your pampered, relaxed muscles in return?"

"You show me yours, I'll show you mine. Whaddaya say?"

"I say showing is good."

They made their way, hand in hand, to the elevator. Impatience pulled at him, and his hands all but itched to touch her. He couldn't recall ever wanting to touch a woman this badly. Apparently she was suffering from the same impatience because the instant the elevator doors closed, surrounding them in privacy, she pressed him against the wall, and pulled his head down to hers.

He kissed her with all the raw, edgy, pent-up need pounding through him, need sharpened all the more by her urgency.

She rubbed herself against his erection, then leaned back to look at him with a devilish, smoky-eyed expression. "Uh-oh. I don't think your massage worked. You're obviously not nearly as relaxed as you should be."

"All your fault, I'm afraid."

"Then you must allow me to fix it."

"Consider me at your disposal."

She wound her arms around his neck, and arched against him, her tongue dancing with his. His hands skimmed under the thin cotton of her shirt to touch her warm, soft skin. A low, pleasure-filled moan vibrated in her throat, and he kissed his way down her neck to touch his tongue to the sound.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. They circled down the hallway, kissing, hands searching. He slipped the key card from his back pocket and managed to open the door, not an easy task with Jilly's distracting hands sliding under his shirt.

Heart knocking against his ribs, he pushed the door closed behind them with his foot. As she had in the elevator, she urged his back against the wall. Breaking off their frantic kiss, she grabbed the ends of his Polo shirt, and he raised his arms so she could pull it over his head. The striped cotton fell to the floor. When he reached for her, she grabbed his wrists and gently pressed them against the wall.

Their gazes locked and he groaned. With her lips wet and reddened from their kiss, her eyes glittering with desire, her hair messed from his hands, she looked aroused, tempting and sinful.

"Let me touch you," she whispered.

He had to swallow to find his voice. "I'm all yours, sweetheart."

A sexy half smile curved her lips, and in a heartbeat she switched tempo on him, shifting from fast forward to slow seduction. She nipped soft kisses along his jaw and neck while her fingertips glided up and down his torso. His eyes slid shut, and he had to press his fists against the wall to keep them from reaching for her.

She kissed her way across his chest, dragging her tongue across his nipples, then drawing them into the warmth of her mouth, all while her fingers played gently over his abdomen. She licked and kissed her way lower, her mouth leaving a trail of damp heat. When her fingers brushed beneath the waistband of his jeans, his muscles jerked and a low groan pushed past his lips. Her silky hair brushed over his stomach as she sunk to her knees and unfastened his jeans.

Opening his eyes, he looked down and watched her free his erection then slowly draw him into her mouth. He hissed in a sharp breath, and slipped his fingers into her hair, absorbing the erotic, arousing sight of her lips gliding over him, the incredible feel of her tongue slowly circling him, the sensation of her hands cupping him, her fingertips brushing over his sensitive skin.

She drew him deeper into her mouth, dragging a growl from his throat. His entire body tightened with the need to come, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold off his orgasm much longer.

Grasping her upper arms, he urged her upward. "Can't take anymore," he whispered against her mouth, as he toed off his loafers. "Want you. Need you. Now."

Without a word, she stepped back and yanked her turtleneck over her head and unfastened her bra. While he shoved down his jeans and boxers and stepped out of them, she kicked off her flat shoes then skimmed her drawstring cotton pants and lace panties down her hips. Naked, she entwined their fingers, then led him to the bed.

"Lie down," she whispered. She quickly grabbed a condom from their new supply. Straddling his thighs, she tore the packet, rolled the latex over his erection, then slowly sank herself onto him.

He gritted his teeth against the sweet torture of her leisurely movements as she lifted herself until he almost left her body, then slowly glided down, burying him deep in her snug, velvety heat once again.

He palmed her full breasts, his fingers grazing her taut nipples, his senses exploding from the sight of her astride him, the feel of her inner walls surrounding him, squeezing him, the scent of their mutual arousal rising between them. His gaze riveted on the sight of his erection sliding into her body, and his fight for control was irrevocably lost.

Grasping her hips, he reared up to a sitting position, and drew one of her erect nipples into his mouth. Her nails dug into his shoulders, she arched her back, a long moan rumbling in her throat. He felt her tighten around him, grind against him, and his orgasm ripped through him. Burying his face between her breasts, he held on tight and whispered her name like a prayer while the tremors shook him.

When his breathing returned to normal, he lifted his head. Her head hung down loosely, like a rag doll left in the rain, shiny skeins of tangled dark hair obscuring her face. Touching his fingers to her jaw, he urged her chin up. Their eyes met, and the area surrounding his heart went hollow, only to then fill with a sensation unlike anything he'd ever before experienced.

He released her hips, then traced his fingers over her face with hands that were noticeably unsteady, like a blind man seeing her features through touch. He felt the strong need to say something, but a lump of emotion he couldn't, didn't even want to, try to explain clogged his throat. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers and murmured the only word he could manage-the one that seemed to sum up all he was feeling.

"Jilly."

Her fingers skimmed through his hair, and her warm breath brushed past his lips. She said only word in reply, but it was enough.

"Matt."


* * *

An hour later, Jilly gave herself one last quick check in the full-length mirror before they left the room to join Jack for dinner. Dressed in a tailored, white, French-cuffed shirt tucked into her favorite black, slim skirt that skimmed her knees, and strappy Ralph Lauren heels, she looked calm, cool, and professional. From the neck down.

From the neck up, she looked like a woman who had just been thoroughly and magnificently loved. Even her prim chignon could not disguise the glow in her eyes, the rosy flush of her complexion, the slight swelling of her lips. She might as well have pasted a sign on her forehead that read, Yes, I just did it-twice, in fact. And I can't wait to do it again.

Matt stepped behind her, and their gazes met in the mirror. Heat whooshed through her at the barely banked fire in his serious, dark-blue gaze. Sliding his hands around her waist, he drew her back against him, then bent his head and nuzzled her neck with his warm lips. She really needed to step away from him. Instead she arched her neck to give him better access.

"You look beautiful, Jilly," he murmured against her ear, sending heated shivers down her spine. His hands skimmed upward, cupping her breasts through her shirt, stalling her breath. "And you smell incredible. What is that scent you wear?"

Okay, she'd tell him as soon as she remembered how to speak. Drawing a deep breath, she said, "It's called Clean Laundry."

He lifted his head and looked at her reflection in the mirror, his surprise evident. "You're kidding."

"Nope." No need to tell him that his distracting touch had rendered her incapable of doing anything as complicated as "kidding."