Play with Me. Leslie KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
pretending to think about it. She didn’t suspect this man was spoiled in the way some of her clients were. He didn’t come off as rich, used to everyone bowing down before him at the first request. And he definitely wasn’t the kind of guy who expected a woman to spread her legs at the first mention of something sparkly.
Yeah, she’d met a bunch of those guys. Amanda had always been left wondering what kind of woman would trade a night beneath a sweating, out-of-shape, pasty old man for a pair of diamond earrings.
Reese wasn’t like those men, not physically, not mentally. She had the feeling he was successful but he was not financially spoiled.
Spoiled in other ways? Maybe. Something about his self-confidence, his half smile when he’d asked if she was single, told her he was used to getting what he wanted when it came to women. The way he sat just a few inches away—casual and comfortable when she, herself, was tingling with excitement at his nearness—said he was sure of what he wanted to happen and his ability to make it happen.
Sexually confident, yeah. But spoiled? No. The guy who’d looked like he was going to lose his lunch during the flight had been adorably sexy and vulnerable. Not one creepy, jerky, I’m-good-and-I-know-it thing about him.
“Not spoiled,” she admitted.
“I should hope not. As the oldest of six kids, I learned at a very young age not to count on anything I owned remaining unbroken, unborrowed or unlost.”
“Six kids!” The very idea horrified her. One sibling—one perfect, good, just-like-their-parents sibling who did exactly what was expected of her and never stepped off the approved path—was quite enough for Amanda, thank you very much.
“My God. Six. I can’t even imagine it,” she muttered.
“Oh yeah.” A small chuckle emerged from his mouth as he added, “It was never boring.”
Amanda nibbled her bottom lip before replying, a bit sheepishly, “Sorry I said that earlier. I was just trying to get you to relax.”
Reese might dress the part of executive, but no man with those looks, that mouth and that gleam of interest in his eyes could possibly be called boring.
“So how’s that strategy work for you?”
Confused, she asked, “What strategy?”
“Throwing insults at guys to relax them. Working out okay?”
Hearing the laughter in his tone—knowing he was laughing at himself, too—she had to admit, she liked Reese Campbell.
Wanted him. Liked him. Two points checked off her mental I’m-no-slut-and-don’t-have-one-night-stands list.
Tonight was looking better by the minute.
“It worked on me, by the way.” He leaned back farther in the seat, turning a little to stare at her. The dim reflections from streetlights they passed striped his handsome features in light and shadow. His breaths created tiny vapors in the chilly air that couldn’t be banished by the car’s weakly blowing heater. His voice was low, thick as he promised, “Because I’m looking forward to proving you wrong, Amanda.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Just one. Something about the way her name rode softly, smoothly, on his exhalation, thrilled her. But she managed to keep her own breaths even. “Oh?”
He nodded. “There’s nothing boring about what’s going to happen between us.”
A shiver of excitement coursed through her. It started with her lips, which quivered and parted, then moved down her entire body, which suddenly felt so much more … alert, somehow. The cold was more biting, the coat scratchy against her bare thighs. Her breasts tingled under the slick, polyester fabric of her blouse, the sensation sensual against her tight nipples.
Excitement had awakened every inch of her. It had been there, sparking right beneath the surface, for hours, since she’d first spied him on that tarmac back in Pittsburgh. Now the spark had caught and spread into a wildfire of interest and arousal, even though he hadn’t touched her.
He knew. He had to know. The very air seemed thick with her sudden certainty of just how much she wanted the man. That certainty must have communicated itself to him with her shallow, audible breaths, the almost imperceptible way she leaned closer to him, irresistibly drawn to his heat. His size. His scent.
The big, strong hand sliding into her hair and cupping her head came as no surprise. She smiled in anticipation as he turned her face, tilted her chin up, then bent toward her. Their breaths mingled in the cold evening air and an almost tangible sizzle of excitement preceded the initial meeting of their lips.
A heartbeat later, the cold air disappeared. Nothing separated them at all.
Their first kiss was no tentative brush of lip on lip, nor was there any hesitation, or even a gasp at the thrill of it. It was instead strong and wet. Sensuous. Confident and hungry, Reese parted his lips and slid his tongue against hers, tasting deeply, thoroughly, with enjoyment but not desperation.
Enjoyment could easily lead to desperation, she had no doubt. But despite the fact that they were in the backseat of a random cab, and had a one-man audience, courtesy of the rearview mirror, Amanda didn’t care.
She wanted this. Craved it. So she didn’t resist or even hesitate. Instead, she reacted with pure instinct, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tilting her head to the side, she silently invited him deeper. She moaned at the delights provided by his soft tongue, tasting him and exploring the inside of his mouth.
He was warm and solid, the spicy, masculine smell of him filling her head even as his heat against her body chased away any last remnants of chill.
Finally, he ended the kiss, slowly pulling away far enough to stare down into her eyes. She saw want there. And something else—excitement. Pleasure.
His lips quirked. And she saw even more: self-confidence. He confirmed it with a broad, satisfied smile.
“This is going to be so much fun.”
“The party?”
He shook his head. “You and me.”
3
ALMOST FROM THE MOMENT they’d met, Reese had known he was heading in one direction: toward Amanda Bauer’s bed.
They were going to have sex. Soon.
Reese knew it. Amanda knew it. The two of them were savoring that knowledge, building the anticipation as the evening wore on.
He’d done his bit for the business. Then, when old Mr. Braddock and his family had left for the night, he’d taken off his official Campbell’s Lager title and gone back to being Reese, the man who’d picked up his sexy personal pilot.
Every look asked and answered the same question. Every smile was a seduction, each casual word a hidden code and every brief brush of hand on hand had become the most sensual foreplay. The way they intentionally tried not to touch more intimately increased the incredible tension, each non-caress promised unimaginable pleasure when they finally did come together.
Reese couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been more excited by a woman. He just knew, as he stared at her across the crowded bar, that he’d never desired one more.
They hadn’t kissed again since that brief encounter in the cab. They hadn’t needed to. The want they were both feeling had been building by the minute.
When they’d danced, and his hand cupped her hip, or her thigh slid against his, the anticipation of how this night was going to end had nearly sent him out of his mind.
It had also sent him in search of something to try to calm down his body’s heated reactions.
“So, are you supposed to be, like, the president or something?”
Reese didn’t bother glancing over at the