She opened with another gasp.
No turning back now.
His tongue thrust against hers, and hers reached tentatively for his. A groan escaped her, enthralling him, and just like that, he lost track of his surroundings, his intention to simply taste. His mind centered on only one thing: hearing that sound again.
He urged her to her back, kissing her as if he would die tomorrow. As if she were the last girl he’d ever see. As if her lips held the answer to every question he’d ever asked. Supple and willing, she reclined for him. Her arms wound around his neck, bringing him with her, so that the hardest parts of him were lined up with the softest parts of her. All the while their tongues rolled and thrust in a white-hot tangle.
He tasted cinnamon, a hint of strawberries. A heady combination, addictive when it should not have been. He’d tasted all three flavors before, but they’d never made him feel as though he was floating... melting from the inside out.
He could be locked away for the rest of his life, he decided, but it wouldn’t matter because he’d experienced this one perfect moment. Not even Daphne had affected him this strongly—and with so little. But then, her kisses had been those of a teenager in puppy love. This one came straight from a woman with passions as intense as his own.
Everything he’d felt for Brook Lynn since moment one consumed him, raw and carnal as she arched her back and rubbed her chest against his. Softness without the barrier of a bra, two little beads abrading deliciously...only the thin material of her shirt covering her.
He clutched at her pillow, nearly ripping the material in half, and lifted his head to ensure she could read his lips. “Be still,” he told her. If she kept moving like that, the experience would end in mere minutes. “Please.”
“Can’t,” she rasped, her fingers applying pressure at his nape, urging him back down.
Her eyes were glassed with passion-fever, her cheeks even rosier than before. Her lips were red and swollen, moisture glistening over them.
“Damn, you’re beautiful.”
“And you’re wasting precious time.” She stopped trying to force him down and sat up, thrusting her tongue in his mouth, as if she’d been starved for him and could not live another second without this.
When she fell back, he went with her, her willing captive. Her nails raked down the ridges of his spine, and he cursed the shirt that prevented skin-to-skin contact. The urge to climb on top of her, to pin her down with the full bulk of his weight, teased him. He would put his hands on every inch of her, strip her, caress her nakedness and drive her to the very edge of release. And the sounds she would make...he would swallow them all.
A low, possessive growl rose from deep in his chest. He’d never heard it before. Not from anything human. It should have scared the hell out of him, but it merely urged him on. He put one of his knees on the bed—on the gurney.
The gurney.
They weren’t just in a public place, but in a hospital. Anyone could come in. Anyone could sneak in behind him, attack him.
Jase jolted back, severing contact. His body shouted a protest, his hands closed so tightly he would have sworn he’d cracked the bones. He struggled to catch his breath, to stay in place, away from her. Have to stay away from her. How had she made him forget his surroundings, even for a second?
She traced her fingertips over her kiss-swollen lips. “Jase, I...”
She stopped, just stopped. What would she say? I want more? I shouldn’t have done that? You’re my boss?
With a screech, she slammed a fist into the mattress beneath her. “I can’t believe this! I’m such a mouth-slut.”
The change in her startled him. “You are not a mouth-slut.”
Ignoring him, she added, “And do you want to know what sucks worse? You’re a superstar stud because you’ve now mouth-bagged two sisters.”
Mouth-bagged? “That would make me the mouth-slut, not you.” He had a choice: fire her and pursue her, though he could never offer her anything permanent, or apologize, vow to never again kiss her and return to the way things were.
She covered her face with her hands. “We can’t do that again. Ever.”
He locked his jaw to prevent a curse from escaping. Very well. She’d made the decision for him.
Prying her hands away from her eyes, he said, “You’re right. We can’t do that again.”
She ran her bottom lip between her teeth, a nervous gesture. “You came here to kiss me, not for any other reason. Why?”
Because he couldn’t not do it. Because he’d never wanted anything more. “Why did you let me?”
“You first.”
“A moment of insanity,” he said, and she flinched. Okay. Insulting her wasn’t a smart move on his part. He added, “Obviously, I’m attracted to you.”
Her eyes widened as she squeaked, “You are?”
The magnitude of her surprise caught him off guard. “Has no man ever told you that?”
“Yes. I mean, a few have.”
Only a few? Clearly the men of Strawberry Valley were idiots, and yet Jase was struck by a sudden urge to track down the few smart ones and do a little skull bashing. She’s mine!
He sucked in a breath. No, she wasn’t, and as he’d told himself before, she would never be. Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing.
“But you...” she said. “You’re difficult to read.”
He stalked to the chair beside the bed and sat, increasing the distance between them. If he wasn’t careful, he would reach for her. Do...more. And if he did more, he would want to try for something serious with her—Beck was right. The desire for commitment was hardwired inside his brain. But if he committed to her, she would own him, but would he ever really own her? And if ever anyone dared hurt her...