Naked Pursuit

“I guess I could help you with my other hand.” She lifted her left arm and clasped the material surrounding the top button. Owen’s fingers brushed hers and their eyes met. Neither dropped their gaze as they freed the top button.

Mmm, mmm, mmm. This was a new experience. Men had unbuttoned her shirt before. She’d even stripped for a guy. But never had she and her partner worked together, as a team, to take off her top. It was somehow more intimate and personal. She didn’t do intimate. Or personal.

They worked their way through buttons two and three. His knuckles brushed the newly exposed skin of her chest and stomach. She’d make an exception for personal this one time. Or all night.

Button number four was where the blouse-ripping had begun, so when they reached that point, Owen slowly slid her top off her left shoulder and then the right. He smoothed the material down her body until it caught and dangled on the handcuff chain between them.

His eyes crinkled in the corners and his gaze finally left hers to focus on the problem. “I guess we didn’t think this handcuff thing all the way through. I’ll go grab the key.”

But she shook her head and twined her fingers through his. “Not yet. I like a challenge.”

“Guess I should have played harder to get.”

She shook her head again. “No. Just hard.”

“That was kind of dirty talk, Doctor.” He brushed her lips with his. “I like it.” His voice was a delicious whisper that sent sparks of keen awareness along her nerve endings. Then Owen cupped her breast through the red silk of her bra, and it was like he’d lit her on fire.

Stella’s entire body burned and craved more. Craved everything. Her nipple puckered against the soft material. He toyed with her, slow strokes with the pad of his thumb, and Stella sucked in a breath.

Owen tugged on the strap of her bra. “I need to get you out of this,” he breathed into her neck. “And this time keep you out.”

Another blast of sexual awareness pounded her senses. “Yes,” she said, her single word long and drawn out. She wanted to be naked. Right. Now.

“I’ve never picked up a man,” she admitted. Not her style.

He lifted his head from her neck. A small sexy smile tugged at his lower lip. “I thought I picked you up.”

She shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His smile deepened. “Believe me, not a disappointment.”

She laughed, and it made her feel good. Light. Carefree. It had been so long since she’d been wrapped in the strong arms of a gorgeous man. Not that any guy in her past equaled the sheer appeal of this man. Rugged and sexy. Capable and sensual. Owen was built like a man who knew how to work his body.

Even though she’d met him only a few hours ago, she clicked with him. Strange. She rarely formed attachments to people so quickly. Her med school training had taught her not to put a lot of stock in first impressions, but instead to form judgments based on interaction and fact. But with Owen it was all impressions and feelings and gut reactions.

“I need two hands to work the clasp of this bra and I don’t want to contort your arm and hurt you.”

This was no passive encounter; she was a full participant in the baring of her body to his eyes. Her every sense was heightened. All her nerve endings quickened at his touch.

She helped him out and the clasp finally, finally gave. He smoothed the material away with his palms. Stella shivered from the heat of his fingers.

His breath came out in a heavy groan. “You are beautiful, Stella.”

“So are you,” she told him as she traced the lean muscles of his chest. A puckered scar wrapped around his rib cage. A burn?

“We should get the key now because in another minute, I’m not going to care.” Owen’s hands dove into his overnight bag, stopping every few seconds to drop a quick kiss on her lips. Her nose. Her forehead.

After a few moments, he settled his hands on her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes, his gaze intent and focused and filled with desire. “Clearly I need my full concentration to find this thing,” he said.

She nodded her understanding. Stella watched the play of muscles on his back as he bent down to the bag. She couldn’t stop herself from stealing a caress of his bicep or leaning in to catch the woodsy outdoors scent he carried with him.

His movements became more frantic. He unzipped pockets and felt in the corners of the bag. “Those jerks.”

“What?”

“Well, they left me the cuffs but not the key.”

Her gaze flew to the cute black-and-white top she’d worn. Sadly, it would now be a casualty to sex. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air as she tore at the seam from hem to sleeve. Her ruined top fell silently to the carpeted floor.

“That’s one way to handle it,” he said, a smile lightening his face.

“The bra’s going to be a problem,” she warned.

“I have a pocketknife in my jeans.”

“Do it.” He dug in his pants until he pulled out a small, yet serviceable knife. She hissed in a breath when his fingers grazed along the sensitive skin of her shoulder. Who knew her skin was so susceptible to touch? No, this man’s touch.

He lifted the strap and slid the blade underneath.

“Wait.”

He instantly stopped. Did he think she was having second thoughts? Now?

Ha—as if she would ask him to leave her bra right where it was. “Cut in the middle of the strap. That way I can tie it in the morning.”

With a few efficient moves he freed her bra from the chain between them. She tossed the bra aside and watched as it landed on the dresser in the bedroom.

“Hold out your hand, and I’ll cut off the band they put on us at the testing center.”

He did so and she returned the favor. Then she focused all of her attention back on the sexy hot man in front of her.

Owen pulled her into his arms. “I believe you were licking my ear and talking dirty.”

“Pretty talented, aren’t I? I can lick and talk at the same time,” she teased. He was about to reply, but she silenced him when she traced her tongue along his ear and sucked the lobe into her mouth. “Does this give you any ideas?” she asked after a moment.

He nodded. “Too many good ones.” His free hand caressed and stroked her breast, then moved lower. Butterflies flapped to attention inside her stomach as his fingers rubbed the bare skin above her leggings. He dipped his hand between her legs, stroking and teasing her through her underwear until her legs grew weak.

“Owen, you have to slow down,” she moaned into his neck.

Stroke.

Her clit grew heavy and tingly. “This feels too good.”

“Nothing can feel too good,” he told her, nibbling at the tender skin above her collarbone.

Stroke.

Her inner muscles began to clamp deliciously.