About That Night

But he wouldn’t be the only one who was going to lose if he sent her on her way. And really, telling him what he wanted to hear wasn’t a big deal. She was still in charge. Still the one deciding how much to share. And how much to keep hidden.

It didn’t have to change anything, didn’t mean there was anything between them other than sex. Uncomplicated, no-strings-attached, possibly mind-blowing sex. A one-night stand between two virtual strangers who would go their separate ways in the morning.

That last realization cinched it. She didn’t have to worry about opening up, just the tiniest bit, to a man she’d never see again. Nothing she told him would matter after tonight.

“There’s more to you than you let on,” she said.

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

“You wanted to know why I changed my mind. You think it’s a game, and it’s not. Well, maybe not completely.” Her throat was parched, so she took a long drink then set her glass down. Tugged her hand from under his. “I had every intention of keeping my distance from you. I thought you were exactly as you seemed. Arrogant. Bossy.” She pursed her lips as she considered him. “Entitled. Uptight—”

“I get it,” he said, his tone all sorts of dry.

But he didn’t correct her or try to claim he wasn’t those things. She could appreciate a man who knew his strengths as well as his weaknesses.

“As the night went on you surprised me. You didn’t flirt with other women after I turned you down, which makes me believe you weren’t out to get laid.”

His laugh was a quick burst of sound that scraped pleasantly against her skin. “Let’s not get carried away.”

She returned his grin. “You weren’t only out to get laid. If you were, plenty of women at the party would have been willing to give you anything you wanted. So I knew you weren’t just out to scratch an itch. Plus, you did your best to keep your mother sober—and off the dance floor—and you tolerated her thick-necked date, which means you feel responsible for her well-being or, at least, her reputation, and care about her feelings. You sat with your father for almost an hour, which means you’re patient.”

And she didn’t even want to think about what it said about her that she’d noticed how long he’d sat by the wheelchair, talking to the uncommunicative man. How upset he’d seemed.

“You came to my room because I’m a good son?” he asked, clearly not buying it.

Except it was the truth. Just not all of it.

She edged closer, her knee pressing against his. “I realized it was unfair of me to make assumptions about you based on how you looked.”

People did that to her all the time. They saw her face, her body, her clothes and thought they knew her.

She’d long ago stopped trying to get them to see her as something more than her looks. Why bother? It wouldn’t change anything. It was easier to play along.

“And in doing so,” she continued, “in walking away from you, I’d miss out on seeing where this attraction between us led.”

One corner of his mouth turned up, making him look younger. More approachable. But the heat in his eyes, the way he watched her reminded her that he was still a dangerous man. A potent one. “So you’re admitting the attraction was mutual from the start.”

“I don’t deny the obvious. But now it’s your turn.”

“My turn to admit the obvious?”

Keeping her eyes on his, she shook her head slowly. “Your turn to make the next move.”

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_80070f5c-60a6-58bd-8a41-cb9d68ec74fa)

CLINTON STUDIED HER, as if he was trying to get inside her head, see into her soul. As if he wanted to know her thoughts, feelings and secrets.

She’d chosen to share a few of those with him, but the rest were hers to keep.

Such as how hard it had been for her to come here, to knock on his door. How she wasn’t sure which had been a bigger mistake—refusing him earlier or changing her mind. How scared she was that he was going to send her on her way.

How she didn’t want to be alone tonight.

But he couldn’t know any of that. She kept her expression clear. Waited while he looked his fill, while he made up his mind.

“You’re trouble,” he finally said.

Tension burst out of her in a short laugh. That was his big revelation? “So I’ve been told. What’s wrong with a little trouble?”

He looked at her as though she’d asked what was wrong with a little nuclear war. “I don’t do trouble.”

But he was getting closer to it. Literally. Leaning forward, he wrapped his big hands around her upper arms. Pulled her gently toward him.

“No?” she asked softly, her heart racing.

He shook his head, his eyes dark with want. “I fix things. Make the trouble disappear.”

She’d noticed. Had watched him put out one small fire after another at the party, taking care of his parents, getting the busty blonde who’d been hitting on his brother to back off. Dancing with his niece when she pulled him onto the dance floor.

Ivy let her gaze drop to his mouth, linger there as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip. “Do you really want me to disappear?”

His fingers tightened, his nails digging into her skin. Though it killed her not to touch him, not to close the distance between them and press her mouth against his, she kept her hands in her lap. Stayed perfectly still. She’d meant it when she’d said the next move was his. He may not like playing games but he was participating willingly in this one. And far be it from her to take away the man’s belief that he had the upper hand.

As long as she was the one holding the best cards.

His hands slid up her arms slowly, across her shoulders. He stabbed his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, his thumbs nudging her chin up. Her mouth parted. Her breathing quickened.

He tugged her forward. Later, much later, she would worry about that. About how he’d turned the tables. How, instead of coming to her, he was bringing her to him. But for now, with his palms warm against her cheeks, all she could think about was his touch. His kiss.

His head came closer, his features blurring. She wanted to shut her eyes, to lose herself in sensations, but she couldn’t look away. He paused when their mouths were inches apart. The air surrounding them stilled. Thickened. All she could see was his face, all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears.

All she wanted was him.

His breath washed over her, and she made a sound in the back of her throat that could only be described as needy. Dear Lord, he hadn’t even kissed her yet, and she was already acting like a fool, her brain fogged with desire. It was humiliating, needing him this much. It was dangerous, being this weak for a man. If Ivy wasn’t careful, she’d lose her good sense and her pride.

She couldn’t make herself care.

She lifted her hands to his chest, curled her fingers into his shirt and yanked him to her.

Yes, she thought as their mouths met. This was what she wanted. The flash of heat. The heady desire. His kiss was hard and hungry, his lips firm. Beneath her hands, he was solid. Warm. She’d expected finesse. Control. After all, he had both in spades. But what she got was an answer to her own desire, one that matched it. A heat that threatened to consume her.

His fingers tightened on her hair, the bite and tug ramping up her excitement as he tipped her head to the side to deepen the kiss. She slid her hands over the hard planes of his chest, up to his shoulders. Down his arms. He tasted of whiskey and smelled like heaven. She wanted to rub against him, imprint the feel of him on her skin, absorb his scent into her pores.

She pushed him back, trapping him between her and the back of the couch. His hands raced down her back, then smoothed up her torso, his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts. She shifted, lifting her leg only to give a grunt of frustration when her skirt trapped her. Not breaking the kiss, she rose onto her knees and pulled the material up her thighs, then straddled him so they were connected, chest, belly and pelvis. He lifted his hips, had the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her.

She playfully bit his lower lip, then ran her tongue over it before fusing her mouth to his again. He felt wonderful. Even better than she’d imagined. All lithe muscles and carefully contained strength and power.

She couldn’t wait to make him lose that control. To be the one to unleash that power.