“Looks aren’t everything, Shane.”
He clutched his heart. “Shots fired!”
“You really think I don’t find you attractive?”
“Do you?”
As we crossed over into Manhattan, I swiveled toward him and said, “Shall I count the ways?”
His eyes lit up. “Please.”
I ran my fingers through his hair. “You have the perfect coloring.”
“Narcissist,” he laughed. “You have to like my coloring.”
“I don’t have to, but I do.”
“Continue.”
I touched his nose. “Your nose gives your whole face character.”
“Character. Oh, God, not that.”
“It’s good.”
“Character and nice are two words that people use as euphemisms.”
“Whatever.” Tracing his bottom lip, I said, “Your lips are sinfully sexy.”
He kissed my thumb. “That’s more like it. Go on.”
“You’re the worst.”
“Now that’s not even a euphemism. Foul.”
“Shall I continue to praise your beauty, or shall I move on to your drool-worthy body?”
“Drool-worthy? Really?”
“Oh, hell yeah. Has nobody ever lusted for you?”
He moved closer, with a mischievous grin. “I don’t know. Do you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Our lips connected, and we didn’t speak for several blocks. There was no satisfying us though, and I could tell he was as frustrated as I was by our situation. Kissing him was pure heaven, but heaven couldn’t exist without hell, and hell was made of hot, burning fire. And the flames licked my sinful desire.
He drew back, dragging his teeth across my lip with a deep sigh. “Do you really have to go to work? I could spring for a hotel. We could be there in minutes.”
“We could do that.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “After I go to work.”
He groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
The cab finally arrived close enough to Times Square, and we got out. Shane followed me into the lobby.
“Well? This is it.” I gestured toward the bank of security turnstiles, indicating the end of the road for Shane.
“I want to see where you work.” He walked over to a desk and secured himself a guest pass.
