There was noNaked Runway. No Mr. Uptight revenge fantasies. No Gi Gi’s Crossing.
Just the kiss. The contact. The untangling tension she’d been pretending didn’t exist between her and Marcus.
They didn’t make it to the third-floor bedroom. Barely made it past the stairs. His hands roamed, gripping and guiding with a hunger that left her dizzy. Somewhere between the bottom step and the second-floor landing, he yanked off his tie and tore open the buttons on his shirt, letting it all fall in a careless heap on the floor.
Her gaze caught. Broad shoulders, solid chest, the kind of abs that made gym memberships look like agood investment. A faint trail of dark hair led down to where her imagination was already racing ahead.
She slid her palms over the warm skin of his chest, nails skimming across firm muscle, and felt the shiver run through him. Her hands moved around and tracked the lines of his back.
He caught her mouth again, the kiss deepening until it blurred everything but the feel of him and the way her body leaned into every inch he offered. That tiny act of gentleness with her hair still sat lodged in her chest, impossible to shake.
She was spinning. Hard. Falling for the guy in a way that—
He made a sudden turn, and she stumbled a step. He caught her and steered them down the hallway. The world narrowed to the solid heat of his body and the steady pull of his hand on hers.
He pushed into a room she’d never seen before. Velvet drapes. A lamp casting golden light. A wide bed with creamy pink linens and soft, feminine touches.
She blinked. The room was…romantic. Disarmingly so.
She flickered her gaze to him, to the bed, then back again. “Why wasn’t I offered this room last night?” Her voice was part breathless, part suspicious.
Marcus stepped closer, brushing his thumb along her cheek with deliberate slowness. “Because last night it was four walls and a stack of tile boxes,” he said. “But when I realized the cottage wasn’t going tobe ready anytime soon, making this room livable shot to the top of the list.”
Her brain lagged. When the words finally computed, her damn heart took another hit. “Are you saying you had this done for me?”
He nodded, looking smug in a room full of throw pillows. “I was going to call it the Honeymoon Suite when it’s featured in theGi Gi’s Crossing Gazette. But from this moment on, it will be known as the Spanking Room.”
Her lips parted. “You’re—”
“Dead serious.” His mouth found hers, and any reply she might have had dissolved under the kind of kiss that stole thoughts and left only desire.
He walked her backward until the backs of her knees brushed the mattress. Every cell in her body buzzed with anticipation as he lowered her with maddening care.
Greedy to feel the solid weight of him between her legs, she parted them in invitation.
He joined her, bracing himself above her. So close his nearness stole her sanity and erased anything but the restless pulse between them and the hard press of his body.
And when she said hard, she meanthard!
She could feel him, every jaw-dropping inch. Suddenly, all the teasing and bravado from earlier snapped into something real. Something inevitable.
As if he still needed to prove himself worthy of the honor, he reverently kissed her jaw. Didn’t he realize she’d surrendered the second his hand touched her hair? And don’t even get her started on this room.
Then he found the spot beneath her ear, and the sound that escaped her was indecent. Not that she cared. The only thing that mattered was getting him closer.
She arched into him, fingers threading through his hair, soft gasps spilling free, opening her up to the dangerous-crack moment. That moment where control slips away, and you have no desire to shore it up.
He slipped deft fingers to her blouse, easing it open button by button until it slid from her shoulders, displaying her red lace bra. His gaze darkened, and his breath caught. “You should warn a man this is what you wear underneath.”
“If this is causing heart palpitations, wait until you see the panties.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and his grip on her tightened, possession thrumming through his touch. His hand traced her waist, smoothly made its way to her hips, before finally skimming the hem of her skirt, which was bunched at the top of her thighs. “Are they going to give me a heart attack?”
Her pulse tripped. “God rest your soul if they do.”
His lips shifted course, abandoning the path of his hand to start way the hell up at her collarbone.
She groaned. “You could speed this part up.”
