Her back slammed against the door.
Firm hands slid up to cradle her head as his mouth crossed over
hers. Again and again, the slant of his lips and sweep of his tongue
burned through her.
She craved this. Day after day, sitting in boring conference rooms
and never-ending staff meetings, watching him explain and negotiate,
she wanted him.
At home, or in any safe place where she could close her eyes and
steal a moment, she imagined the broad slope of his shoulders and
the pleasures promised by those lean fingers. At the office she
lived for the peppery ginger scent that tickled her senses during
those dangerous times when she got close enough to smell him.
Colin Banks. Brown hair bordering on black, soft gray eyes and
a voice so deep it vibrated down to her toes with every syllable.
He was completely off-limits. And he was seconds away from being
"God, yes." He whispered his plea against her lips when
her fingers found the flat stomach under his shirt.
Heavy breathing mixed with the rustle of clothing and shuffling
of feet. One hand reached down to catch her thigh and pull it high
on his hip. The seductive dance inched her slim skirt straight into
Ignoring common sense and every rule she'd ever set for her life,
she dove in. She grabbed for his suit jacket. Clawing and pushing,
she worked the material down his arms, letting him leave her only
long enough to shrug it to the carpet.
Then he was back. Warm air blew across her bare skin the second
before his mouth closed over the vein thumping hard at the base
of her neck.
The pressure of his lips, the sucking and coaxing, sent a rush
of blood to her head. She slid her fingers beneath the collar of
his dress shirt and lifted his face. No more than a shimmer of air
passed between them before her mouth found his again, making her
wonder how she went eight months without kissing him long and deep.