A Stranger's Touch. Tori Carrington

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      He pointed to the boxes she held.

      “Um, no, but…something similar.”

      He turned so that he was facing the doors alongside her. The scent of something fruity, something fresh, reached his nose and he breathed it in. While city girl was stamped all over her, she smelled amazingly like the outdoors. And infinitely edible.

      Quinn had never noticed how quiet elevators were before. Or how small. He swore he could hear the sound of his blood rushing full speed to his groin. Feel the heat of his body increase the temperature of the enclosure. Sense Dee’s growing tension as she swallowed.

      How did one close a deal of this nature in the negligible amount of time it took for the elevator to climb to the sixth floor? He’d already guessed that one-night stands and becoming intimate with strangers went against Dee’s principles, although he suspected that if she listened to her heart, she’d probably follow it. But her running away from him in the bar proved she wasn’t anywhere near ready to do that.

      But he also knew that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Had watched her watching him all night. Had stared at her as she licked salt from her hand with that naughty pink tongue of hers, her gaze steadfastly on him, then downed tequila along with her friends.

      The elevator bell dinged. The doors slid open.

      Damn.

      The way he saw it, he had two options. Push the emergency button and thrust her against the wall and have his way with her. Or leave.

      He began to exit. He heard her intake of breath, as if she was about to say something, and hesitated on the threshold, another option emerging.

      He turned, butting his shoulder against the open door. He gazed at where she still stood rigidly straight, clutching her packages as if they’d somehow protect her against him. Protect her against her attraction for him. An attraction that widened her pupils until her hazel eyes nearly shone black, and left her moistened lips parted.

      Quinn cleared his throat, then smiled. “You, um, wouldn’t happen to want…”

      He purposely let his words trail off, allowing her to define the parameters, if she chose any.

      She quickly shook her head. “No. Sorry. I can’t.”

      He glanced at his boots. “My loss, then, huh?”

      The elevator door bounced against his shoulder. He started to straighten. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman throw the packages she held to the floor. And suddenly she was up close and real personal.

      Quinn wasn’t all that clear on the details of what brought her from the far end of the elevator to flush up against him, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Almost instantaneously, her fingers were in his hair, tugging the strands from the leather strap. Her mouth rested awkwardly against his, the stiff peaks of her breasts jutting through the chambray of his shirt. Acting on pure instinct, he groaned and pulled her closer, slanting his mouth more comfortably against hers. With the tip of his tongue, he traced the seam of her lips, coaxing them open. And just like that, they were.

      God, she tasted like pure temptation, just the way he knew she would. Mischievous, sweet, and hot as hell. He slid his tongue along the length of hers, reveling in the texture of it, the taste. He’d all but given up hope of kissing her like this. Now that he was…well, it was even better than he had imagined. In an instant he was rock hard and wanted her in a way that made him forget where they were—a condition that intensified when she wriggled and shimmied hungrily against him.

      Quinn slowly slid his hands to her hips, holding her still as he pressed his erection into her soft flesh, leaving little doubt about how he was feeling and what he had in mind. When she not only didn’t object but shivered in response, his body temperature leapt another few degrees. He skimmed his hands from her hips, up along her slender midriff, then created a wall on either side of her full breasts with his palms. At her gasp, he stepped up the force of his kiss, then drew his hands all the way over her breasts, squeezing the straining tips between his thumbs and palms.

      Take it easy, buddy. You don’t want to scare her off.

      And he was all too aware of the risk of scaring her off. Of moving too quickly and having her balk. She had run from simple conversation in the bar. Pushing her too far too fast here, alone in the elevator, might ruin his chances altogether. But he simply couldn’t help himself. The instant he’d been given a taste of what he’d been longing for all night, he was filled with the need to take it all the way. For the past two hours he’d mentally envisioned every last thing he’d like to do to the woman now in his arms. And, by God, he couldn’t stop himself from making those plans a reality.

      A slight pulling of fabric and her blouse opened. A dip of his hand and the material bowed, revealing a snow-white lace bra. He briefly broke off the kiss to gaze at the small mounds of flesh accented to perfection by the half-cups of fabric. Her nipples poked against the material, begging to be set free. And he found more than anything that he wanted to grant them that freedom. Dipping his index finger inside the cup and under the stiff peak, he lifted. The rosy tip popped up. He wasted no time fastening his mouth around it, licking and tugging and pulling until Dee’s breathing was so erratic that it nearly tore the succulent bit of flesh from his mouth. He blindly found and liberated her other nipple, groaning at the decadent way she held her shoulders back, straining for his attention. He caught the stiff peak between his thumb and forefinger and pinched, reveling in her sharp intake of breath.

      Quinn closed his eyes. God, but her responsiveness was killing him.

      Stroking her right breast, he dropped his other hand lower, skimming the backs of his fingers down her hip, then lower still, until they rested against the skin of her leg. The bare skin of her leg. The fact that she wore no nylons surprised and excited him. Maybe this bad-girl in good-girl clothing had a naughty streak she didn’t even know the breadth of. He drank in her moan. Oh, he was going to enjoy not only introducing her to that naughty side, but making her love it. He edged his fingers upward, slowly lifting her skirt until he was mere millimeters away from her sex. He paused, measuring the hunger in her kiss, the rapidness of her breathing, then he brushed the backs of his fingers against the crotch of her panties, finding her hot and wet and ready.

      She shuddered so violently that for a moment Quinn thought she might have climaxed. But rather than collapse against him for support, she grasped his shoulders and pressed her hips more solidly against his, cradling his pulsing erection between her thighs. Quinn stretched his neck and groaned. Sweet Jesus, but she was going to end him right here and now.

      WILD…hard…wet. Dulcy had never felt so out of control in her life. Yet so completely in control. Of herself. Of Quinn. Of the powerful emotions surging through her body, bringing to life a hunger, a need, she hadn’t known existed. The instant her sex made contact with his through their clothes, she knew she had to have him. Gone was any rational thought. Vanished was every last shred of self-doubt or concern about tomorrow. She completely gave herself over to the power of feeling. Nothing more. Nothing less. Of listening to her body and following its lead, trusting it not to lead her in the wrong direction.

      She began fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, then gave up and tore at the material, sending buttons ricocheting through the elevator. Finally, the smooth, hair-peppered chest was bared to her gaze. She tugged the soft material down over his shoulders, marveling at the toned, sculpted quality of his pecs. She’d sensed his hardness when she’d fallen into his lap, but somehow not even that brief contact had prepared her for this. She placed СКАЧАТЬ