She held up her hand. “No. Don’t. Give me a second.”
She needed to compose herself first. She was dangerously close to saying something she might regret.
“Here’s the thing,” she said when she turned around after pacing across her room and making sure the drapes were fully closed. “I second-guess myself all the time. The inside of my head is like a worry bomb went off. And then someone sprinkled doubt dust all over the rubble. So I play everything safe.”
“If I—”
She shook her head. “Let me finish. That was…that was honest. It was the thing that Jackie wanted to say, you heard her admit as much. And it got the response I was secretly hoping for from fans. And I know you heard Jackie and me talking about that—”
“Whoa. Slow down.” He got right in front of her and gently pulled her worrying hands apart, quieting them with a gentle press of his own. “I just answered the question. Nothing else.”
She beamed at him, unable to hide her true reaction any longer. “But it was exactly the right thing to say. I mean, terrifying, depending on how Track reacts to it. But it was perfect.”
He did a double-take. “Perfect?”
“Yes. And terrifying.”
“I didn’t miss that part. That part was more obvious from the way your band ran out of here like you were going to chew my head off.”
“Right. That. I might have given them that impression so I could get you naked and thank you appropriately.”
He stared at her like she was insane.
Which she possibly was, but right now wasn’t the best time to remind her of that.
“The only other man to know all the mess inside my head looks at me like I'mtrash. So if you could maybe not say no—”
He cut her off by pulling her into his arms. His mouth swept against hers, the first brush of a gale force wind, the edge of a storm. His grip stayed tight as he pulled back, his eyes glinting hard and bright as he searched her face. “You wonderful, sneaky woman.”
A wave of relief crashed over her. “You like?”
“Yeah. Let’s trick them more often.” His hands tightened on her back. “Come here.”
This time his kiss was more brusque, barely restrained hunger as he tugged up her shirt. She did the same, wanting to feel his skin against hers. Up, up, up, she pushed the fabric, revealing those tight, defined abs she’d petted the other night. His gorgeous midsection led to a broadly planed chest with just a light dusting of blond hair in the middle. Her mouth went dry at the size of him. She’d known he was strong, and tall, but half-naked, he gave Thor a run for his money.
“Look at you,” he whispered.
“You stole my line.”
He stroked her shoulders and down her arms, finding the waistband of her jeans. Her belly fluttered as he re-traced slightly familiar ground—but still new enough it filled her with nerves.
But he’d already touched her. Already told her she was beautiful.
And the way his face was buried between her breasts told her everything she needed to know about how he felt about her. He traced the top curve of her bra with his tongue as he grinned up at her.
It was rough and dirty and perfect. She laughed. “Hi.”
“Hi. Can I take this off?”
She nodded and he buried his face in her cleavage as he worked the clasp in the back. When the bra fell away, he replaced the cups with his palms, gently lifting and caressing her swollen flesh with his fingers.
“I want to touch you, too,” she whispered.
“Mmmm.” He rubbed his face gently against one breast, then the other. “Okay.”
But he didn’t move. Instead he kissed and rubbed and stroked every inch of her breasts until she was shaking, and then he circled one nipple with the tip of his tongue.
“Dean!”
