Jill Shalvis - Strong And Sexy

“Let me guess. That’s what she thinks you do all day. Evacuate shit.”

In spite of herself, she laughed. How he did that, made her laugh when she hadn’t planned on being amused, was beyond her. “Sort of like taxiing people, huh?”

He grinned too. They grinned at each other, unexpectedly unified in this. “You’re happy in your job,” she murmured.

“Very.”

“Me too.”

“I’m happy in my life,” he said.

In his single life. Right. Got to remember that. She glanced at the bed again. He was happy single.

“But here’s the stickler,” he said quietly. “I’m happier now that I’ve met you.”

Before she could begin to figure out how to process that, his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Much happier.” Cupping her freshly washed face, he leaned in, and this time didn’t stop until their lips were touching. This kiss was different from the wild kiss they’d shared in the last closet they’d stood in, and different from the kisses they’d shared at his house.

This kiss was slow and sweet, and so heartfelt she felt her throat burn, and when he pulled back a fraction, just enough to look into her eyes, hands still on her face, he murmured, “And as to your earlier question…I was worried about you, but I also wanted to see you again. I wanted to repeat. If you meant what you said, yesterday that you don’t, then tell me now. Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me, that you don’t want to see where this goes.”

Oh, God, don’t do this. Don’t be so gorgeous and have the heart too. Don’t be the whole package. “You…you want to repeat.”

He offered her a sweet, sort of baffled smile. “Go figure, right?”

This wasn’t good. He stood there looking young and sexy, but also shockingly vulnerable, and the combination was almost too much to take.

She could fall for him.

Hard.

Fast.

And here she was without her handy-dandy, trusty safety net. Not good. Not good at all. Backing out of his arms, she moved back down the hall.

He wanted to repeat. How did she resist that? Answer-she couldn’t, she really couldn’t.

“Where are you going?”

“To the ice cream. I need ice cream for this.”

“For what?”

She plopped down on the couch and resumed her earlier position, holding the spoon and the carton, thinking there might not be enough ice cream on the planet for this.

The couch sank as he hit the spot beside her, his thighs brushing hers. “You got another spoon?”

Turning her head, she looked into his eyes. And just like the ice cream in her hands, she melted a little. “I suppose I can share.”

“You’re like an onion.”

An onion? Confused, Shayne looked at Dani. “What?”

Her eyes were warm, her face a little flushed, whether from scrubbing off the mask or from being near him, Shayne had no idea, but he hoped like hell it was the latter.

“You have all these fascinating layers.” She dropped her spoon into the ice cream. “When I saw you at my mother’s party, I thought, uh-oh. Pure trouble coming right at me.” She lifted a shoulder. “Sexy trouble, of course. But you were this easygoing, laid-back, too wealthy, too good-looking for your own health guy, you know? Someone who’d probably never lifted a finger a day in his life.”

Hard to be insulted, when most of that had been true at one time or another. “And here I thought all you saw was my sharp wit and intelligence.”

“Nope, just the whole playful playboy thing.” Apparently unconcerned that her blunt honesty had a sharp edge and cut deep, she went for another bite of ice cream. “But the thing is, layers started peeling away almost immediately.” And then another bite. Or rather, a lick. Her tongue delicately ran over the wooden spoon and made his eyes cross.

“Dani.”

And then another lick. Without conscious thought, he urged her closer, then closer still, pulling her onto his lap.

“Shayne-”

He slid a hand up her back and she arched into his touch, even as she was careful, very careful, to keep her skirt modestly tucked around her knees as she settled in. The contradiction between that and the fact that her nipples went hard, pressing against the material of her sweater, combined to create a sensory overload.

Up and down went his hand, to the back of her neck and down again, farther this time-

And then he suddenly realized the reason for her modesty.

It was entirely possible that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

She gave the spoon another lick, which in turn gave his body a quick shudder of pleasure from just watching her. He wanted to shove up the skirt and see if he was right about her being commando…

“Do they?” she asked, feeding him a bite of ice cream.

What? He’d missed the question.

“I asked if all your women see right through you.”

“Hope not.” His hands slid down her arms all the way to the backs of her thighs.

No panties.

“I do,” she whispered. “I see right through you. Past that outer layer to your inside, where you’re sweet and funny and smart. I like that layer best. I decided that in the closet at the party.”

“I thought you liked the mistletoe the best.” His voice was just a little thick and a lot hoarse as he ran his hands up and down her outer thighs, to her hips, her waist, and back down.

Nope. No panties anywhere. What happened to the blue thong?

He was having trouble getting past that, past the fact that if he shoved up her skirt, there’d be nothing to stop him from feasting on something much, much better than ice cream.

And sitting on him as she was, she couldn’t miss what else was happening with his body…

“The mistletoe,” she murmured. “That was fun.” She paused for a bite of ice cream, and wriggled her butt just a tiny little bit, so that the very core of her cradled the absolute core of him.

Yeah. She hadn’t missed a thing. She knew.

“And the kissing,” she added. “That was a very nice layer indeed.” She fed him another bite, opening her mouth as he opened his, making him smile even though he was hard as a rock.

“But I can’t help but wonder…”

“What?” he asked.

“Do you think…” She nibbled on her lower lip in a way that made him want to do the same. “That maybe it’s all just an adrenaline rush? This…attraction? After all, there’s been a lot of adrenaline.”

“You really think what happened between us was just adrenaline?”

“Well, it’s possible, right?”

Possible, yes. And he’d love for it to be nothing more than that. In fact, having this all be just an adrenaline rush would be perfect.

So perfect, and to see if that was the case, he covered her mouth with his, and as his body leapt to attention, he had to agree. A good part of this was definitely adrenaline. Not to mention sheer, unadulterated lust.

But it wasn’t only his body involved here. Unfortunately, his heart was too, and that meant more than just adrenaline and lust. A little stunned, he lifted his head.

She was staring at him with the same shell-shocked expression. “It should have worn off by now.”

“Maybe we didn’t try hard enough to get it out of our system.”

“Okay,” she whispered, game, so he kissed her again, deeper, hotter, wetter, and this time when he lifted his head, she let out a slow, shaky smile. “Still feel it. You?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Maybe…maybe you should show me what you had in mind for this ice cream. Maybe that would do it, get each other out of our system.” Her smile was a little hopeful, and a whole lot hot.

But not nearly as hot as he felt. Slipping his hands beneath her, he stood and turned, then let go of her.

“Oh,” she gasped as she bounced into the cushions of the couch. “Oh,” she murmured again when he dropped to his knees.

Between hers.

The first thing she did was make sure her skirt was still covering her. Adorable. But so not necessary, because he had plans. Plans that did not involve the skirt. He held out his hand for the spoon. “May I?”

Looking a little breathless, she hesitated, then handed it to him. “Um, I-”

“Party for two now, remember?”

Her gaze never left the spoon. “Right.” Licking her lips and fidgeting, she looked a little nervous, which only upped the anticipation. Dipping the spoon into the now softened ice cream, he touched it to her nose.

“Hey-”

And her chin.

“Shayne.”

And the very base of her throat.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Making my very own ice cream sundae.” Leaning in, he licked the drop from her nose. Her chin.

Her throat.

“Oh,” she breathed with a sweet little shudder as her hands sank into his hair. “I like that.”

“Good. That’s good.” His fingers closed on the zippered tab of her sweater, just beneath her throat. He loved how she’d zipped it all the way up to the top, as if she was all prim and proper, because he’d seen her decidedly unprim and un-proper, and was hoping to get her there again.

All in the name of getting her out of his system, of course.

With one hand he slowly pulled the zipper, the other dipping the spoon back in for more ice cream.

“Shayne?”

“Yep, still right here…” Oh, yeah, he thought, watching as he unzipped, revealing a strip of creamy smooth skin from her collarbone to her sexy belly button.

No bra, just some great cleavage.

Holding her gaze, he slid a hand into the sweater, gliding his fingers over her ribs, up to a breast, letting his thumb slowly circle her nipple.

Her breath caught, and she tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “Shayne.”

Sliding his hand up even higher, he nudged the sweater off her shoulder, which gorgeously exposed one of her breasts.

She shivered.