Jill Shalvis - Strong And Sexy

“Shayne?” Michelle’s voice filled the room. “Wish you’d come by last night. I was looking forward to one of our late-night trysts…”

They’d had exactly one late-night tryst, one that she’d instigated, promising him that she wasn’t looking for anything more…

“Call me,” she said with promise thick in her admittedly sexy voice. “Maybe we can hook up tonight instead.”

The machine clicked off, but there was another sound in the room, a light rustling that had Bella lifting her head and snuffling, but Shayne already knew who stood over him wearing-ah, man, look at her-wearing only his T-shirt, which fell to her thighs.

He’d fallen asleep with the kitchen light on behind her, which allowed him to see right through the material. God bless that light.

And as a bonus, from his vantage on the floor he caught a peek-a-boo hint of peach panties. Cotton? Silk?

“Hey,” she said, hugging herself. She took a step closer and tripped over the shoes he’d carelessly kicked off. With a gasp, she fell.

Right on top of him.

Not so good for his supposed distance, but pretty damn great for his temporary bout of loneliness, having that hot curvy body all over the top of him. And she was all over him, her hair in his mouth, one soft thigh between his, her breasts smashed against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She tried to push off him but her hand sank into his gut, making him let out an “oof,” and then she overcorrected by shifting her hand lower, and this time when she pushed up she had a handful of his package.

“Careful,” he warned, wrapping his fingers around her wrist.

“Oh, God.” She went utterly still, shock on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

But she didn’t take her hand off him.

“Dani?”

“Yeah?”

Her fingers were warm, and definitely…Christ…outlining him. “What are you doing?”

Groaning, she buried her face in his chest. “He has to ask me what I’m doing. That’s bad. Very bad.” Fumbling for balance, she rolled to her back on the floor, thankfully managing not to un-man him in the process.

Lifting up, he eyed her. Her hair covered her face but his T-shirt had risen up high enough on her thighs to reveal a close-up and personal view of those peach panties.

Satin.

He closed his eyes as all the blood drained out of his head for parts south. “I’m sorry if the phone woke you.”

“Was she your…girlfriend?”

“No.”

She let out a shaky breath. “But you’ve slept with her.”

Brody or Noah always said one of his many, many faults was being honest. Too honest. Brutally honest.

He couldn’t help it. Being honest was all he had. “Yes.”

“Are you still sleeping with her?”

“No.” Gently, he pushed the hair from her face, and when her eyes cut to his, he shook his head. “No. It turns out we’re…incompatible.”

She absorbed that, and processed. “As in she wants a relationship, and you don’t?”

“Yes.”

“Because you don’t do relationships, right?”

So he wasn’t the only one who could do brutally honest. “Not as a habit, no.”

“I do. But I’m bad at them, really bad. Guys don’t tend to stick, and I’ve always blamed them, but lately I’m thinking it’s me.”

Ah, hell. “It’s not you. You’re perfect.”

She shook her head. “Don’t say stuff like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“It makes me want you.”

“I thought we weren’t going there.”

“Well, there’s there, and there’s there. You know?”

He really didn’t, but she was looking at him so hopefully expectant, he nodded his head, which earned him a beaming smile.

“So you agree?” she whispered, not breathing, her mouth tantalizingly close to his, and then there was her warm, soft body, barely clad, lying against him.

He wasn’t breathing either. Did he agree? He hadn’t a fucking clue, but he nodded again.

“Oh,” she breathed softly. “Oh, I’m so glad.” And leaning in, she pressed her mouth to his jaw.

His world skidded to a halt.

“So glad,” she murmured against his skin, her hand coming up to settle on his chest.

And then, somehow, through the fog of sheer lust, he began to interpret. She was trying to seduce him, and she’d gotten shockingly far. The knowledge pretty much ensured that he went hard and stayed hard…

But then she reached out, presumably to touch the hair falling over his forehead, and caught him in the eye. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry!”

He’d been seduced before, but never like this, never in such a sweetly fumbling, klutzy manner, which was somehow far more endearing, more genuine, more real than anything he’d ever experienced. “Dani?”

“If you could just ignore me, that would be hugely helpful. Seriously.”

He pulled her hand from her face. “Too late for that.”

“No, it’s never too late. Really, just pretend I’m not here. Dying.”

“Dani.”

“Dani has left the building.”

He laughed. Laughed. He’d intended to keep his head about him, to keep that blessed distance she wanted so badly, and yet she’d wriggled, tripped, and fallen her way right into his heart. “Come here.”

“Really? Just for tonight? It has to be just for tonight.”

This time, he knew what he was agreeing to. “Whatever you want.”

She smiled, and he felt his control slip.

But just a little.

Dani slid into Shayne’s arms and lifted her head for a kiss. She needed one, pronto. She needed that rush of adrenaline, that sense of floating, of delicious lust, and the knowledge that she could do anything.

Including seducing a man right out of himself.

It’d been a while, but she did remember the basics, plastering herself to his long, rugged length, making sure her breasts brushed his chest.

His bare chest. And wow, oh wow, was it some bare chest. With him in only his unfastened pants, she could take in all those muscles, and there was a lot of muscle. And then there was that six-pack, and the way his pants hung so low on his hips she could almost just dip her hand in and-

“Are you cold?” he murmured.

No, and that hadn’t been the question she’d been expecting. Maybe “are you on the pill,” or “would you like to move to some place more comfortable,” but not “are you cold,” because the truth was yes, she was a little cold, and a whole lot hot at the same. “I have no idea,” she said, just happy that they were on the same page, that they could scratch this itch and still be on the same page.

“Let me get a blanket-”

“No.” She didn’t want him to move. To that end, she wriggled. Wriggled one leg over his so that the T-shirt he’d given her rose up over her butt.

She knew she wasn’t exactly Miss America, but men liked butts, and if she could just get his hands on hers, things would probably progress pretty quickly.

She wanted quickly. So she wriggled again, and he caught her knee in his hand, making her realize she’d nearly caught him in the groin again. “I’m sorry.” A laugh escaped her, a very nervous laugh. “I swear I’m not out to hurt you.”

“Okay, good.” He brushed her hair from her face and looked into her eyes, smiling, but clearly just a little confused. “Maybe we could go over exactly what we are doing.”

“Well…” She wriggled again, careful with her knee this time. Leaning down, she thought to give him a kiss, because that would surely remind him-

They bumped noses.

Not letting that deter her, she changed the angle of her head, leaned in and-

Bumped his nose again. “Ohmigod.” Lightly slapping a hand on either side of his face, she held him still. Determined, she leaned in again, and found him-

Laughing.

At her.

Letting out a breath, she pressed her forehead to his. “Are you laughing at me or with me?”

“With you,” he promised. “Definitely with you.”

“Maybe you could do one more thing with me.”

“Anything,” he said in the most thrilling voice.

She executed another wriggle, complete with eyebrow arched that hopefully signaled “do me, do me now.”

But he, the most frustrating, patient man on the planet, just lay there.

“You know what I’m asking,” she finally whispered, beginning to sound desperate, even to her own ears. “You’re a guy. A really sexy, virile guy who has women calling him at the crack of dawn. You know.”

“Yes, but do you?”

“Do I know that I want to have just sex? Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you kidding me? You probably have women throwing themselves at you nightly. You probably never have to make the first move. And yet you want me to beg you.”

“Whoa-”

“Because believe me, Shayne, I’m this close to begging you.”

“Dani-”

“What?” she snapped, just a little too close to the edge.

Cupping her face, he pulled her in for a kiss. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m not waiting for you to throw yourself at me. I’m trying to resist you.”

“Oh.” That deflated some of her annoyance. “Why?”

“Because…” He slid his hands down her back, over her bottom, her thighs, and then up again, beneath the big T-shirt this time, and let out a low, thrilling groan at the feel of her satiny panties. “Because that’s what you wanted before I brought you here. Because I don’t want to hurt you.” Some of the smile went out of his eyes. “Because I tend to end up hurting the women who care about me.”

“You can’t hurt me.” Liar, liar. “This is a one-night thing only, remember?”

For a long beat he just looked up at her. “You’re very different from the women I’ve gone out with.”

“Different.” But because his fingers slipped beneath that satin, this came out all breathless and whispery. “Different how?”

He didn’t answer, and she lifted her head. The light from the kitchen slashed over him, and she could see the answer in his eyes. “Oh,” she breathed. “Different as in not beautiful and rich-” Damn it. She tried to shift off him but his hands held her still.