It was something to share with Mitch. With him, she was discovering all kinds of things about herself. Maybe she’d discover something more if they did this together.
EVE HAD BARELY opened her eyes Saturday morning when the phone next to her bed rang. It had to be Mitch. None of her friends would think of calling before ten o’clock on a weekend unless they were hoping for a ruptured eardrum.
“’Lo?”
“Oh, no, I woke you.” His voice was as deep and dark as corn syrup, and just as sweet.
“No, you didn’t. But not by much.” She yawned, and then caught herself. How rude was that?
But he chuckled. “I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to do it in person. I called both your numbers last night but got no answer.”
“You should have left a message. I wanted to call you, but I got home pretty late.” She stifled another yawn, and stretched instead. “I wondered who those hangups were. Are you coming over?”
“Would you think I was a dork if I said I was parked outside?”
“What?”
Mitch laughed and hung up. With a thrash of her legs, she kicked the sheet off and dashed into the bathroom. A quick swipe of toothpaste was all she had time for before she heard him knock on the door.
Hair! Three licks with the hairbrush made it lie flat, at least, and then she had to answer the door or he’d think she was putting him off.
Naturally, he looked good enough to eat in a pair of soft, faded jeans and a light shirt open over a white T-shirt. His hair was loose and tousled, as though he’d been driving with the windows open.
Sigh. She had no idea where this was going or how long it would last-or even if it could, considering the fact that people were talking already. But she had today-and she’d promised herself she’d enjoy the heck out of it.
“My dream come true.” He stepped inside and slid both hands around her waist.
“Right,” she said. “Lucky for you I had toothpaste handy.”
“Lucky for me all the way around.” He leaned in and explored the sensitive skin under her ear. “You are finally not wearing a bra or some miracle of modern engineering.”
She slept in a tank top and a pair of seersucker drawstring pajama bottoms that were probably wrinkled to a fare-thee-well. But from the heat building in his eyes, Mitch wouldn’t have cared if she slept in chain mail, as long as there wasn’t a bra under it.
With a delicious sense of her own power, she backed out of his reach. “Just let me get dressed.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He followed her down the sunny hall, stalking her like a big, casual cat.
“No, really. No Southern lady would ever greet a guest in such dishabille.” She reached her bedroom door and pushed it open with one hand. “I’ll only be a-”
With a growl, he tackled her, and she shrieked with laughter as she landed on her back on her bed. He rolled her on top of him, both his arms around her waist, and she kicked and slid off, landing on her side and wriggling away.
He grabbed her again from behind and this time he pinned her down with one leg thrown over hers. Breathless with laughter, she pretended to struggle as he pushed her hair aside and nuzzled the nape of her neck.
Shivery kisses, she thought with delight as goose bumps prickled on her shoulders. And that wasn’t all. Her skin seemed to come alive in response to the touch of his mouth and her nipples hardened as well.
A sound of satisfaction rumbled in his throat. Looking over her shoulder, he eased his grip on her waist and cupped a breast with one hand. And oh, it felt good to be fondled and shaped like this, as if her body had been waiting for his hands ever since that mad rush out of his hotel room yesterday morning.
He caressed her shoulders and bare arms, and slid his hands down to the hem of her top. With a whisper of fabric, he pulled it over her head and tossed it away. She rolled to face him and did the same with his shirt. “It’ll get wrinkled,” she whispered in explanation as it landed partly on the floor and partly over the arm of the wicker chair next to the window.
“Like I need an excuse to get naked with you.” He toed off his tennis shoes. After he snagged a condom out of the pocket, his jeans followed the shirt through the air to the chair.
She wiggled out of her pj bottoms and then his big body lowered itself to hers. His hips fit into the cradle of her thighs, forcing them apart, before he turned his attention to her breasts. Her eyes slid closed with delight as he stroked pleasure from her skin with his tongue, swirling and tasting and sucking. Her nipples ached with impatience as he took his time getting there, as though he were saving the best for last.
“So hard for me,” he whispered, his lips hovering an inch away from the aching peaks. “So sexy.”
“Mitch.” She arched her back, but he drew away, teasing. “You know how sensitive I am. Don’t make me wait.”
“I want a promise first.”
There could be only one thing he could torture her for like this. “All right,” she said, her breath coming fast. “No bra today.”
“That’s my girl.” His voice was rich with satisfaction as at last he lowered his mouth and gorged himself on her. She marveled at the delight he took in her body, at the sweet fire he could ignite inside her with only his eyes and his mouth. His tongue swirled over her areolae and the slick abrasion made her moan. When he tugged, she gasped, and when he nibbled, it drove her mad.
Who would have thought that the part of her that gave him the most pleasure would be the part that felt pleasure the most?
This man is made for you.
Oh, no, she couldn’t think that way. She couldn’t think at all, because now he was rolling on the condom and positioning himself between her legs. And she couldn’t wait another second. She was so ready-so wet and soft, her body demanding his.
Eve pulled up her knees to give him easier access and pulled him toward her. “Now,” she gasped. “I need you now.”
In a single stroke, he plunged into her, and she shrieked. Again and again he drove home, his gaze locked on her face and yet turned inward as though his own pleasure were taking over his senses. She slipped her hand between their bodies and touched herself, finding the center of her pleasure and adding the stroking of her fingers to the rhythm of his body.
“Eve-” he choked.
A red explosion of pleasure erupted inside her and she clenched around him like a vise, shuddering and making incoherent little cries. He cried out, too, and found his release as he rocked into her one last time.
His skin felt damp and hot under her clutching fingers as he collapsed onto her in a spent heap. Her bed folded them both into its soft embrace.
This man is made for you.
Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing was for sure.
The people at CATL-TV couldn’t possibly be right about him. No one could make love like this and have an ulterior motive.
No one.
14
ONCE WAS NOT ENOUGH.
Or twice, because it hadn’t even been an hour and he wanted her again. Maybe making love to Eve three times a day would satisfy him.
Mitch watched her strap herself into the Lexus and swallowed. She’d kept her promise, and the only question was how long he could control himself before someone caught him staring-or worse, touching.
He must have been crazy to ask her to do this.
She wore cargo pants that came just below her knee and rode low on her hips. A little strip of bare skin showed between the waistband and her top, not enough to be vulgar but just enough to draw the eye and tease.
And talk about teasing. She hadn’t worn the red gauze number, because his eyes and his brain would have fried within a block. But she wore a cotton camisole that looked like it had come out of some Victorian lady’s wardrobe. It fastened down the front with tiny pearl buttons, and scooped low in the neckline, a narrow lace ruffle framing cleavage that was truly spectacular.