“Just because I follow my heart,” she said adamantly, her face a confusion of strength and hurt. “Just because I’m transparent and not in control of my every body movement”—she gestured with her hands, sending her small breasts sliding against the shirt and turning him on even more—“doesn’t mean I’m a doe-eyed innocent. I know what I’m doing. I think I can handle kissing you without losing all essence of who I am.” Clutching the tie around his neck, she leaned in. “I am an independent, intelligent woman who does not need to be saved from anyone. Least of all you.”
She was a woman all right. A seething, beautiful woman who was very close to him and smelling like the cucumber body wash stocked in her bathroom. He knew. He’d grown accustomed to the warm, sweet scent that eked its way into the hall every morning after her shower.
“I wasn’t being insulting,” he said, hiding his amusement.
“Yes you were,” she challenged, tugging him closer. He went, the tension pulling the tie against the back of his neck, unable to keep from admiring how beautiful she was, even this close. Natural, naked skin, full lips… “But I forgive you.”
The side of his mouth ticked. He was going to kiss her again. But he’d give her a chance to make the first move. She did, fisting his tie even tighter and laying her lips onto his, but she didn’t stop there. With the swing of her leg over his lap, she settled on top of him. She sat right over his manhood, heat emanating from her core and through his slacks.
It wasn’t often, if ever, he found himself turned on by being put in his place. Was rarely ever put in his place, come to think of it. He would concede he’d given Kimber less credit than she deserved. Either she knew what she wanted, or had opted to take the upper hand when she found herself at a disadvantage. He respected both tactics.
She deepened the kiss, running her hands through his hair and clutching his head. His hands went to her butt, cupping and kneading the soft globes in his palms, stopping short of grinding her against him and relieving the painful ache pounding his balls like a pair of bongos.
She stroked his tongue with hers, completely in control of this kiss and knowing where to take him. He fought to keep up, to figure out what she might do next, to catch the curveballs she was throwing. God, it was exciting. Amazing. The not-knowing… who knew that could be so enthralling?
Then she stopped. Abruptly. Just turned off like a switch, climbed from his lap, reclaimed her wine, and settled onto the cushion she’d been lounging on when he’d first walked out here.
He licked the side of his mouth, still tasting her there, his hands at his sides, chest heaving, hair probably a mess from her roaming fingers.
She wouldn’t look at him, a study in casualness except for the one hand forced into a fist at her side. Trying to keep herself from fidgeting, no doubt. She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. And she’d more than proved her point. If he wanted a partner to spar with, in bed or out, she was a worthy opponent, not some delicate flower he had to handle with care.
Giving in and moving the hand she’d forcibly stilled, she pushed her hair over her shoulder and studied the skyline. The moon was an unimpressive half, not a fancy crescent or mournful full. His chin was elevated when she spoke next, her words stunning him so much, he snapped his head to face her.
“Hope no one saw that and is uploading it to YouTube.” She blinked as if she’d stunned herself, too. “I’m so sorry. That was… wow. Rude. I’m sorry.”
He found himself mildly amused. “It’s fine, really.” It was.
“It’s not,” she insisted. “It’s mean.”
“I know you didn’t intend to be vicious. Trust me, Kimber, it’s fine. Lissa and I weren’t exactly head-over-heels-in-love there at the end.” Or for most of the beginning. For six years, their relationship had been more controlled and organized than a lab experiment. Which had been fine by him. What hadn’t been fine was the grainy video shown to him on someone’s cell phone. There wasn’t a good place to find out his fiancée was involved in some seriously heavy petting with another man, but a charity dinner for cystic fibrosis had to be one of the worst.
“That’s sad,” she said.
She had that heartbroken look in her eyes again. He didn’t like that fragility. It made him want to… he didn’t know what. Protect her, or something. Which was insane. Like he was in any position to be anyone’s knight.
“It wasn’t…” He didn’t know how to go about explaining his and Lissa’s relationship without sounding like a machine. “It didn’t start out that way,” he amended. “I cared about her.”