Oh. That was it? Oh? Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel and her cheeks burned all the way home. Oh? He probably thought she was an idiot. So much for acting cool and sophisticated.
She carried her bags into the house and put her groceries away. She wondered what Dylan thought of her now. Now that she’d behaved like a boob.
She didn’t have long to wait. She’d listened to only a few songs on her Dwight Yoakam CD when someone pounded on her door. She hit the stop button on her stereo, then opened the door, and there Dylan stood, over six feet of extremely irritated man. “What in the hell were you trying to prove?” he asked and stormed into the entry, bringing the scent of his aftershave with him. She looked behind him outside but didn’t see his truck.
“Where’s your truck?”
“You pulled out of the Chevron and nearly T-boned Alice Guthrie’s station wagon. She had her kids strapped in the back, and you could have seriously hurt someone.”
“That station wagon was a long way from the intersection.” She shut the door behind him and folded her arms beneath her breasts.
The light from the chandelier bounced prisms about the hall and across Dylan’s black T-shirt. Within the small confines, he seemed larger than life. A big, muscular he-man dressed in black. He placed his hands on his hips and studied her beneath the brim of his hat. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not.”
“Why won’t you answer your phone?”
“I’ve been working.”
“Uh-huh.”
He wasn’t buying it, so she decided to be honest. “I just don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“Why the hell not?”
But not completely honest. “Because I just can’t have you coming over here whenever you want sex.”
His gaze narrowed. “You think that’s why I’m here?”
She didn’t know, but she was getting that out-of-control feeling again. The feeling like she was running toward a collision. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” He leaned toward her and said, “Maybe I wanted to see for myself if you were all right. Maybe you’re a sparkling conversationalist. Maybe I just like looking at you.” He leaned in a bit closer. “And maybe I just like spending time with you.”
Hope’s heart pounded in her chest.
“Maybe the reason I’m here has nothing to do with sex.”
“Really?”
“Maybe.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face to his. “Maybe I just want to kiss you. Maybe that’s all I want.” He turned his head slightly to the side and said against her lips, “Maybe I just miss the taste of you in my mouth.”
Her breath caught in her chest next to her pounding heart, and she couldn’t remember exactly why she should tell him to go. Well actually, she could remember, but at the moment, what might happen in the future didn’t matter so much. She was standing in the present, and it was filled with a tall, seductive cowboy whose touch set her on fire and made her want to run her hands up his chest and lean into him. “Would you like to come in?” she asked, although, technically, he was already inside.
“Maybe.” He opened his mouth over hers and soul-kissed her, deep down where nothing mattered but him. He was magic, spreading lightning through her body.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Do you want me to come in?”
If she said yes, she would be saying yes to more than sparkling conversations. Was that what she wanted? To be with him for as long as it lasted, or to be alone and thinking about him? “Yes,” she said, as much to him as to herself. She turned before she could change her mind, and the thud of his boots echoed on the hardwood floor as he followed behind her. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked over her shoulder, glancing back at him.
“No,” he said and slowly looked up from staring at her behind.
She had very little control over him and herself and the situation between them, and she was losing more with every beat of her pounding heart. But before losing completely, she said, “We have to set some ground rules.”
“Fine. I’ll call before I come over.” He reached for her hand and stopped her by the coffee table. “But you have to answer your phone.”
“I will, but you have to…” She paused as he raised her palm to his mouth and his warm breath tickled her wrist.
“I have to what, honey?” he asked, but the expression in the green eyes looking down into hers told her he knew. He knew he had her right where he wanted her, and he was enjoying himself.
“Uhh… call first.”
“I just said I would.” He kissed the little tickles on her wrist and sent them up her arm.
“Oh.”
“What other rules did you have in mind?”
With him staring at her as if he were about to eat her up, she couldn’t think. She removed her gaze from his and looked into the dining room at the FBI report sitting on the table. “I’m not into anything dirty,” she said, which she supposed was true, as far as she knew.
A frown furrowed his brow, and he dropped her hand. “Okay.” He took off his hat and tossed it on the couch. “Before we go any further, define dirty.”
“Kinky.”
“You better define kinky.”
She thought for a moment. “No whips.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know you won’t like whips?”
“I don’t like pain. If I get a paper cut, I want morphine.”
“Do you like being tied up?”
Hope had never been tied up before, and the thought of Dylan tying her up made her skin tingle with anticipation. “Yes.”
“Handcuffed to the bedpost?”
She’d never been handcuffed to a bedpost, either. She nodded. Yeah, she could do that. “Can I handcuff you?”
“Any time,” he said through a wicked grin, then pulled her into his chest. “Is that it, or do you have more rules?”
“I think that’s it.”
He lowered his face to her ear and whispered, “So if I were to tie you to my bed and kiss your feet, that’d be okay?”
“Yes.”
He raised a hand to her cheek and kissed the side of her neck. “And what if I slid my hands up the backs of your thighs to your behind and raised you to my mouth? Is that too dirty?”
“No.” Her eyes closed. “That would be okay.”
“It’s better than okay.” He slid his hand up her arm. “And, Hope?”
“Hmm.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
“I’d never do anything to you that you didn’t want me to do. I’d never hurt you or cause you pain.” He reached for the knot at her nape. “Not unless you asked me real nice.”
Chapter Twelve
The knot beneath Dylan’s fingers slipped free, and the straps of her dress slid from her shoulders. Dylan looked deep into Hope’s eyes, and saw exactly what he needed. It was there in the slight lowering of her lids and the spark burning like a clear blue flame. He cupped her breast and felt her pucker beneath his touch. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lip, and he kissed her, tasting desire on her mouth. Her desire for him. His desire for her. The same desire that had kept him up last night and had turned him hard as stone.
He pushed down the straps and the dress fell to her waist and stayed there. Then he leaned back to look at what he held in his hand. Perfect. Soft. The shape of a pear, her nipple like a tight little raspberry. Her breast filled his big hand, and he squeezed softly. He felt the intake of her breath; she held it.
How could he have ever thought one night with her would be enough? After one night he wanted her more than before, when she’d been just a fantasy. Now he knew she was better than a fantasy. Better than anything he’d ever held in his hands. And he knew that as long as she was within his reach, he would reach for her.