Part of me wished he was. Wished I could just melt against all that warm, hard flesh and allow my fingers the freedom to roam. But that would only be asking for more than I could probably handle.
So I raised a hand and simply pressed it against his chest, stopping him from coming closer. Even through the soft silk of his shirt, his muscles felt like iron under my fingertips, and my skin itched with the need to feel, to caress.
“Don’t,” I said. Unfortunately, my voice came out husky and that only ignited the spark in his eyes all the more.
“Don’t what?” he said, his breath a whisper across my cheeks. “Do this?”
His weight pressed against my hand, a gentle force I suddenly couldn’t stop and couldn’t resist. My aching nipples finally came in contact with the softness of his shirt, and something akin to electricity shot through my body. Lord, it felt good. And he was so close, so tempting, and his lips there, right there, right within tasting distance.
Oh, how I wanted to taste them.
And he knew it, damn him.
“Or this?” he added, then brushed his mouth across mine.
It felt like the touch of fire. Or maybe it was only me who burned, not him. Not his delicious lips.
“You want me, Ravioli,” he murmured. His lips moved from my mouth to my chin then my neck, tasting, teasing, arousing. I closed my eyes, savoring the heat zinging across every fiber of my being.
“Go on, admit it.”
I didn’t have to admit anything, especially when the scent of my arousal was so damn obvious.
“How can I want a man who can’t even remember my name?” I somehow managed to say.
His lips brushed the pulse point at the base of my neck, sending a tremor through my limbs, then continued down, following the V of my shirt. I closed my eyes, torn between the sweet desire of his kisses, and the knowledge that I needed to push him away before this got out of hand.
And it would get out of hand. He was a werewolf and an alpha, and the wolf within me just couldn’t help reacting to the power and masculinity of his presence. Not to mention his sheer, must-have-you-now sexiness.
“Ravioli suits you,” he murmured. His teeth grazed a nipple. I shuddered, and barely resisted the urge to arch into him. To offer myself to that tantalizing, tempting touch.
“So does my name.” My voice sounded as liquid as I felt. “Which is Grace Rioli, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t.” His lips trailed fire back up my neck. When his tongue flirted with my ear, my knees threatened to buckle. “But ravioli is my favorite food, and this particular dish is one I’ve longed to taste more fully.”
If he kept this up, he’d be able to drink me, because I’d be little more than a puddle at his feet.
“So basically, you’re saying I remind you of a small square pasta?”
His chuckle vibrated against my neck, and my toes curled in delight.
“You may be small in height and waist, Grace, but you’re sure not small in other departments.”
His tongue alternated with his teeth against my ear, teasing the exact right spot, and my body vibrated with the force of pleasure shooting through me. God, why was the elevator taking so damn long to climb ten floors?
This had to stop. Not the elevator—him. Or I wouldn’t want to. I squeezed my other hand between us, and pushed with both. Not too much, just enough to remove the heat of his lips from my neck. “So now you’re saying I’ve got a fat ass? Charming.”
His gaze scorched mine, blue eyes rich with amusement and lust. It was the same sort of lust that pounded through me—the hot, let’s get down and dirty, right here, right now, type of lust.
Damn it, why couldn’t I find that sort of intensity with someone I didn’t work with?
“You’re determined to twist everything I say, aren’t you?” he said, deep voice edged with amusement.
“Yes.” Because sarcasm was my only line of safety. I was far too susceptible to this man’s charms otherwise.
I ducked under his arms as the elevator finally halted and the doors opened. The simple act of walking was an effort, because my heart still raced a million miles an hour and my legs were all fluid and wobbly. It was just as well Frank’s office was down the far end of the hall—at least it gave me time to gather some sort of composure.
Ethan reappeared by my side, his long strides curtailed to match my shorter ones.
“Why?” he said. I was still so attuned to him his voice seemed to flow over my skin as sensually as a warm summer breeze. “The attraction between us is getting stronger, and you can’t keep denying it exists.”
I could, and I would. For as long as we had to work together, and maybe even after that. “There has to be hundreds of women working in this building. Why don’t you go try your luck with the half you haven’t sampled?”
Something flashed in his eyes. Something that looked an awful lot like annoyance. “Because I’m attracted to you, not them.”
Attracted to the challenge more than the person, I suspected. “Yeah, well, I have no intention of becoming another notch on your bedpost.” As much as my hormones danced excitedly at the very idea.
“What if I promise to make that notch worthwhile?”
His grin was pure cheek, and I couldn’t help responding in kind. The man might be a dangerous rogue, but he was undoubtedly a sexy one. “Not even then.”
He stopped to open Frank’s door then ushered me through, his fingers searing my spine though his touch was feather light.
“The more you challenge me, the more determined I get,” he murmured.
His words sent another tremor racing across my skin. Lord, if what he was doing now wasn’t determination, what was? And how was I going to survive it?
Janet, Frank’s secretary, glanced up as we both walked in. “Go straight through,” she said, her gaze lingering appreciably on Ethan.
“Thanks, Janet,” he said, voice so intimate the older woman blushed.
I shook my head, and continued on through the second door. Like most werewolves, the man just couldn’t help flirting—and that was part of the problem. If I’d had any reason to believe he was after anything more serious than a quick roll in the sack, then maybe I’d reconsider—
I scratched the rest of that thought from my mind as Frank, our semi-bald boss, glanced up.
“Sit down,” he said.
“What’s the problem?” I crossed my legs so that my feet pointed away from Ethan. Even an accidental touch could be deadly given the aroused state he’d so easily worked me into.
“We’ve got a couple of missing kids I want you to look for.”
“When and where?” Ethan asked, voice becoming cool and businesslike.
Something inside me relaxed. This Ethan I could handle. It was the flirty, oh-so-sexy version of his personality that got me all flustered and out-of-sorts.
“The first was three nights ago.” Frank shoved several files across the desk. Ethan leaned forward and picked one up, quickly scanning it before handing it across to me.
I was careful not to touch his fingers and amusement flared briefly across his lush lips. The basic details were all there—name, location, and the particulars of where and how he’d gone missing.
I looked up. “Were there any threats? Ransom demands? Anything to suggest this was a standard crime?”
Frank shook his head. “The kid disappeared from his bedroom in the middle of the night. No evidence of a break-in, and all the doors and windows were still locked in the morning.”
“From the inside?”
He flicked a glance my way. “Yeah.”
Meaning someone had a key. Ghosts might be able to get past locked doors and windows, but humans—large or small—couldn’t.
“Why were we called in?” Ethan asked. “The official investigation would still be underway. We usually don’t get pulled in until after the dust has settled.”