Scoring

Hot and demanding, his mouth made no pretense of gentleness. The rough scrape of his beard was a sharp counterpoint to the silk of his tongue, to the teeth that scraped at her lips. His body was hard against her, the insistent pressure of his desire sending little shudders through her.

The heat overwhelmed her. His hands ran down her back, molding her to him. Though she might have satisfied her need to touch others through massage, she’d been starved for the feel of a man’s hands on her body. Need flooded through her, had her almost whimpering for more.

Long minutes passed as they dove into one another, mouths locked, hands roving. The soft release of breath punctuated the silence. Becka ran her fingers across his cheek and into his hair, even as Mace made a sound low in his throat and pulled her closer.

Mace had kissed her out of curiosity and desire. He’d no idea that kissing her would be like a fist in his gut, robbing him of air, making his head whirl, leaving him weak. Her mouth was a ripe, red fruit, tempting him to devour. It was too much, he thought dimly as he feasted on her lips, but he was powerless to stop himself.

The lithe, taut feel of her against him sent his system into overdrive and he made a small growl of satisfaction. For nearly an hour he’d lain on the table, feeling the stroke of her hands driving him mad, using all his control to keep from rolling over and pulling her to him, knowing it was too soon to touch her. Now, he needed to stop, but he couldn’t resist tasting her just a little more deeply.

Mace’s fingers slid down to the waistband of Becka’s shorts, tugging her shirt loose so he could touch the smooth, silky skin of her back.

Becka sighed against him. The sudden surge of wanting overwhelmed her. Sensation vibrated through her, making her excruciatingly conscious of every atom of her body. She needed his hands on her everywhere, needed him to release her from the tension that was stringing her tight. It wrenched a moan from her and she moved to wrap her arms around his back. Her car keys slipped from her fingers to hit the floor with a jangle.

She jumped at the noise. Sanity came rushing back. What was she doing? Tumbling for him, just like every other woman he’d ever met? He wanted to know what she was like in bed, he’d said so, and he’d been halfway there. She pulled out of his arms and sucked in a long breath.

“Oh no, we’re not done yet.” Mace reached for her again, his eyes darkened to the shade of old amber.

“Yes we are.” Becka put a hand on his chest. True, it trembled a bit, and she had to fight the urge to stroke him, but at least she was making a stand. Even though all she wanted to do was wrench his clothes off and… “I hope you’ve satisfied your curiosity, Duvall. From now on, hands off.”

“On work time, sure.”

“All the time,” she retorted, tucking her shirttail back in. “Let me be really clear about this. I’m not interested in being part of your parade.” She looked him up and down. “You’ve been around the block a few too many times for me. Now if you’ll get your clothes on, I need to get home.”

Mace slipped his shirt on. Becka picked up her purse and keys and started to walk out the door. Swiftly, he reached out an arm and pulled her in close against him.

“Now let me be clear about something. There is no parade of women, I don’t give a damn what people say. My life is my own, not what the media makes it. As for you and I—”

“There is no you and I.” Becka pressed her hands against his chest and glared at him. “And if you think I’m going to sleep with you—”

Wicked amusement filled his eyes and he brought his mouth down to ravage hers until he felt her arms weaken and heard her soft sigh. Then he raised his head. “It’s not a matter of if, darlin’,” he said, staring into her dazed green eyes. “It’s a matter of when.”

And he walked out the door without another look.

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