Hot Sheets

“I’m glad I’ve left behind some happy women, but I much prefer to think about you asking for intimate details. Don’t you want to know what I like to do in bed?”

“I’d like to find out for myself.”

He chuckled, and his fingers began a slow glide down her neck. This was no tentative exploration. His hands pressed into her skin until she could feel a heat radiating downward, making her breasts grow heavy and her nipples stand at attention.

Yet Laura couldn’t ignore that…something underlying his provocative manner. Something that hinted at how unexpected her revelations, and her opinion of him, had been.

“Does it bother you that I talked to those women?”

“Why should it?”

“I don’t know,” she replied silkily, even though the flush in her cheeks made a lie of her nonchalance. “I wouldn’t want you to worry that a romantic idealist like me would set my sights too high and wind up disappointed.”

That lethal grin kicked up the corners of his mouth, and he gave a laugh. “Never fear, lovely Laura. I’ll live up to my press. Don’t give that a second thought.”

He nuzzled his face against hers, his smile still in place, and his faintly stubbled cheek abraded her skin, a simple touch that ignited her nerve endings everywhere.

“I don’t doubt it, Dale, and I won’t have any trouble handling you, either.”

“Then I’ll be your bad boy for the grand opening. If that’s what you want from me.”

“It is.”

His gaze never left hers as he pressed an openmouthed kiss to the juncture between neck and shoulder. “I’ve wanted to be bad with you for a long time. We’re going to be bad together, Laura. Very bad.”

That heat roared inside, and Laura caught a breath that made her chest rise and fall sharply. She could still see that smile where his mouth dragged against her skin.

“You like that.”

“I do.”

There was an incredible unreality about the moment. Sensory overload from the feel of his mouth, the sight of his dark head poised over her, the promise in those smoky eyes.

This was Dale Emerson, the man who’d been haunting her subconscious for so long that watching him touch her became surreal in the extreme. A scene from one of her fantasies come to life while she stood barely dressed in front of a mirror with him, his tongue darting out to taste her throat, a warm velvet stroke that left the gleam of dampness in its wake.

Suddenly he slipped his hands around her hips, dragged them along her stomach, up her ribs. His fingers looked so dark against her skin. They looked so sexy standing together, him fully dressed and her wearing only a bra and hose. The practical pumps—nothing much to look at normally, but professional and comfortable for long days running around the property—elevated her until her back arched and her breasts thrust forward.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dale whispered, and his gaze trailed down from hers, slowly taking in her reflection.

To her chagrin, that blush continued to deepen in a distinctly unbad-girl way. She resisted the urge to shut her eyes and block out the proof that Dale had been right. She was a romantic idealist looking to take a walk on the wild side.

She wanted to be a temptress, wanted to star in this man’s fantasies the way he’d starred in hers. She wanted to wipe out the memories of the untold women who’d found pleasure in his arms before her turn had come around.

But even this aroused, Laura hadn’t lost her senses completely. “We don’t have time for this. Dinner, remember?”

His grip tightened, a possessive move that made her inhale sharply. “We have time. You’re already undressed.”

She couldn’t refute his logic, especially when his head dropped out of sight behind her. She held her breath, waited. His mouth brushed her skin then his teeth…suddenly her bra sprang open and her breasts popped out.

She sucked in a hard breath as the climate-controlled air coaxed already hard nipples to tighter peaks, and he drew the straps over her shoulders, down her arms, and let the bra drop to the floor.

“I intend to find out what you like in bed,” he said.

She heard the challenge in his voice, and her gaze zeroed in on the utterly decadent sight she presented as he cupped her in his palms, kneaded her skin with deep, erotic strokes that made her insides melt. She leaned into his touch without thinking, helpless to do anything but respond.

She couldn’t have imagined feeling this way if she’d tried. She hadn’t expected him to move so fast, hadn’t in her heart of hearts believed this whole idea would work out. But Dale was back, and he’d agreed to be her date.

For three weeks of fantasy.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he regarded her beneath heavy-lidded eyes, a look that drugged her with the promise of his next touch, a look that made it hard to draw a decent breath.

“You like how this feels.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact that she couldn’t deny. “What about this?”

He caught her nipples in a firm pinch and fire shot through her like a lightning bolt, one hot blast that singed every nerve ending from warm to blistering.

“Yes.” The sound slipped out as a moan, an absurdly undignified sound that made his gaze twinkle.

“And this?”

He held on and tugged her nipples in a slow pull that splintered that bolt of heat until she could feel it everywhere. Her nipples flushed pink. Her breasts swelled visibly. She couldn’t stop herself from rising up on tiptoes to arch her whole body into his touch.

“Oh!”

Not the most articulate of replies, but given his grin, Dale got the general idea. He thumbed the now-swollen peaks and each stroke made her tremble in reply, full-bodied quivers that mirrored their achy counterparts deep inside.

“You have such beautiful skin.” His deep voice whispered against her ear, the caress of his warm breath making her sigh aloud. Trailing his fingers away from her nipples, he traced a vein that shone faintly along her breast. “You’ve got skin meant to be handled carefully and to be cherished.”

He touched her with teasing swirls of his fingers, leaving her to savor the ache he’d started, an awareness that echoed down to her toes.

Dale understood pleasure. He understood how to make a woman respond to his touch, and he handled that knowledge with as much skill and experience as he’d ever demonstrated at work.

On the job he’d known how to interpret her architectural needs. He’d taken her vision to create the Wedding Wing. In this honeymoon suite, he understood her desires and how to fulfill them. He took her unspoken fantasies and made them reality.

She thought about making a few demands of her own. She wanted to kiss his mouth, wanted to wrap herself around him and learn the feel of all his hard places. She wanted to taste him and tempt him the way he tasted and tempted her, so much.

She wanted to prove that even though she didn’t normally indulge in flings, she would play by the rules. Bad was an attitude, after all, and she could wield attitude if it meant this man pleasuring her. And getting a chance to pleasure him.

But even through the haze of steamy sensation that made her melt against him, Laura recognized that she’d both offended and challenged Dale with her frankness about his personal life. She hadn’t intended to, but explaining herself had brought his actions and her opinion up for discussion.

Dale Emerson might be a lot of things—a brilliant architect and construction manager, an oh-so charming man—but first and foremost he was male. He wanted to prove himself.

Right now she would let him. She’d told him she could handle a fling, and she would have plenty of time during the upcoming weeks to back up her statement with proof. At the moment, Dale wanted the upper hand so she gave up all thoughts of demands and let him do what he did best—be bad.

Raising her arms, she stretched until she could slip her hands around his neck and contented herself with fingering the silky hairs at his nape. He raked a hungry gaze over her reflection and dragged his strong hands over her, solid, persuasive strokes that skidded along her skin, made her imagine what it would feel like to press her body full against him.

Running his palms over her hose-clad backside, he massaged her cheeks, rounded her hips, then drove his fingers between her thighs with an intimacy that made her gasp. He anchored her close, riding that rock-hard erection against her, and his expression sharpened into a look of white-hot need.

“I want you,” he said.