Page 8 of Too Little Too Soon
“Oh, it’s way too inappropriate to admit out loud.”
“I love inappropriate thoughts.” He leaned so close, his breath tickled her ear when he whispered, “Now you have to tell me.”
She wished she had a fan for her heating cheeks. She also wished he’d stay as close as he was at that moment, maybe even move close enough to nibble on the shell of her ear.
On the other hand, if she were a proper lady and changed the subject, he’d probably let it go and they’d move on to something totally innocuous.
“I was trying to remember the last time I had sex,” she admitted.
His brows shot into his hairline. She giggled and pressed her fingers to her lips.
“A beautiful and intelligent and interesting woman like you hasn’t had sex in so long you can’t remember? How is that even possible?”
Shrugging, she said, “I work too much. No time for much else.”My priorities were messed up. I’m trying to fix that.
“I get that. My job eats up a lot of time too. Luckily, partying is actually part of my job, so I’m doing all right.”
He grinned and winked, and she should ask what he did for a living, but she really didn’t want to know. She liked how easy he was to talk to, but he was from out of town, which meant he’d be leaving at some point, so no reason to get to know each other too well. A relationship definitely wasn’t on the agenda.
Although sex, well, that was tempting.
Very tempting.
“It’s been two years,” she blurted.
“That’s criminal,” he responded.
“I agree.”
The air between them was electric, static, heated. Possibly because he was still so close. Close enough that she could lean into him and press her lips to his.
“If you want to change that status, I’ve got a few hours before I have to be at work,” he murmured, his gaze stuck to her lips.
She swallowed.
There it was, the invitation she had been angling for. Now all she had to do was open her mouth and agree.
And why shouldn’t she? The guy was hot with a capital H-O-T. And he was funny. And down-to-earth. And they had only a few hours before he had to go to work, and after that, he’d go home to wherever he was from and she’d go to the concert and hang out with her sisters and promise herself that from this point forward, she would do things that made her happy, not things that her parents expected her to do.
Twenty-eight hundred miles away with a maximum of two visits a year and she still let them control her life.
No more.
She gently touched her fingers to the scruff on his cheek. It was surprisingly soft.
“Is the appropriate response my place or yours?” She hoped he said his; she never had people over to her apartment. It didn’t exactly fit the image she worked so hard to maintain.
“How about yours? My ban—work mates are all at the same hotel, and it could get awkward.”
That was considerate of him. If she was about to embark on her very first fling, she certainly did not need an audience.
As if pulled by an invisible force, she leaned forward and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to his lips. He responded but didn’t push for more.
“Yours then?” he whispered. She’d swear there was an undercurrent of fear that she might say no in his tone.
“Yes.”
He stood, bringing her up with him, and twined his fingers with hers. “Lead the way, sugar.”
