“Don’t you have towork?”
“I’ll take care of it,” he whispered, leaning back now, staring down the curve of my breasts to my flat belly and then to the button of my jeans. He released the silver fastening and then slid his arms up my warmed skin exploring, touching, breathing me in. It was an erotic experience in itself to be studied byhim.
“Take your shirt off,” I grumbled. “Or I will do it foryou.”
He did smile this time, and damn, how had he stayed single so long? A part of my brain told me he waited for me. I shook the line of thought away while he twisted out of his shirt and tossed it on top ofmine.
His skin had warmed, and I ran my fingers through the tuft of chest hair right in the middle of his pecs. His chest was strong and muscled, as were his shoulders and the line of abs down to his jeans. Holy hell. The pictures in the email had definitely beenreal.
“Am I the first man you’ve kissed since...?” His gaze flashed to the scar on my head and down to my eyesagain.
“Maybe,” I hedged. He was, but I’d picked up enough about male ego not to tell himso.
“What if I wanted to be thelast?”
