He was dressed to jog in a tank top and shorts. What man but Josh Bennett could get by with wearing bright red? she wondered. Yet the color heightened the nut-brown hue of his skin, while the scooping neckline of the tank top revealed his thick, dark chest hair in a blatant display of raw masculinity.
Megan longed to touch the hard curves of his biceps, naked but for the thin straps of his top. His long thighs, bulging calves, and finely formed feet were bare except for well-worn white running shoes. He wasn't a once-a-month runner. She knew he took it seriously.
“Good morning, little girl. Wanna go out and play?” he asked. His eyes traveled over her tousled head, an affectionate smile on his lips.
“My mother told me not to play with older boys,” she said, taking up the game. Saucily, she spun on her heels and tossed her head, her nose in the air.
“You should have minded your mother,” he said, grabbing the back o
f her nightgown and yanking her to a halt. His hand closed around her upper arm, and she was hauled against his chest with an impact that left them both breathless. Or was it the closeness of their bodies, which were dressed too scantily for them not to notice the prominent differences that made their eyes go cloudy? “Playing with boys my age can be downright foolhardy,” Josh whispered.
His mouth met hers with a savagery tempered by tenderness. Lips gazed each other, clung, meshed. His tongue breached her teeth and touched the tip of her tongue teasingly, then skirmished with it until he was declared the victor and granted ail the privileges that went with the title. Skillfully, leisurely, and thoroughly he investigated his conquered territory.
He lifted his head reluctantly, stringing tiny, wet kisses like a soothing lotion along her swollen lips. His hands slid down her arms, and he rubbed his palms on the sides of her breasts.
“I intended to exercise this morning,” he murmured.
“And you should.” Her lips were lying against the strong column of his neck, delighting in the scent of his after-shave lotion and the taste of his skin.
His hands clasped behind her waist, and he leaned back to look down at her. “But if I don't get out of here, and if you don't wipe that sultry expression off your face and put on a few more clothes, by the time I get through with you I won't have the energy it takes to crawl, much less run a few miles.” He kissed her on the tip of the nose and dropped his hands. “You're coming with me, aren't you?”
“For a few miles?”
He laughed. “One mile?”
“Half,” she conceded.
“That won't get you into a marathon.”
“Thank goodness. Wait here and I'll change.”
She hurried into the dressing room and closed the louvered door behind her. “How did you sleep?” she called as she peeled off her nightgown and panties. It made her giddy to think that she was naked just a few feet away from him. What would he do if…? What a stupid question. She knew exactly what he'd do.
“I had a rotten night. Only a pair of panty hose to keep me company.” She heard the springs of the bed creak, and assumed he was sitting down on it.
“Oh? I thought the accommodations were most comfortable.” She paused in pulling on a pair of shorts to listen for his response.
A series of luridly colorful oaths came from the other room; then he said grouchily, “My ailment had nothing to do with the accommodations.”
Feeling safe behind the louvered doors, Megan smiled like a gamin. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“I know the perfect cure. Come out here and I'll show you what it is.”
By now she had put on her exercise bra—she worked out at a downtown health club two evenings a week—and a sleeveless T-shirt to match her shorts. Around her forehead she had wound a cotton scarf to act as a hair- and sweatband. Bravely she accepted Josh's challenge and stepped into the bedroom.
His back was against the padded, fabric-covered headboard of the bed, and he was sprawled in the rumpled indentation where she had slept all night. His relaxed position belied the feral look in his eyes, which left no doubt of the healing cure he had in mind.
Megan assumed a lofty air and placed her hands on her hips, dropping onto the bed the tennis shoes and socks she'd carried from the dressing room. “Well?”
He came bounding off the bed, tackled her around the waist, flung her to the bed and pinned her there with a heavy thigh. Her screech pierced the air.
“‘Well?’ Is that what you said? ‘Well?’” He gnawed the area between her neck and shoulder with his mouth.
“Oh, Josh, please,” she half-laughed, half-shrieked. “That tickles!” She squirmed, thrashing her arms and legs as much as he would allow.
“Ahh, be careful with those knees. We don't want to damage anything we may need later, do we?” He braced himself over her with stiff arms, and she lay still, with nothing but her chest moving as she breathed in great gulps of air.
His expression turned serious. “You're so gorgeous,” he said with stirring softness. “Gorgeous and intelligent and sweet and sexy as hell.” Gradually he lowered himself over her, letting her absorb his weight. His kiss was gentle. His lips played upon hers until she moaned in supplication. His teeth nipped her lightly. Then his tongue buried itself in the wet vault of her mouth. When at last he raised his head, he asked, “Are you ready?”