One Kiss In... Hawaii. Jill MonroeЧитать онлайн книгу.
until she’d pulled away.
Reliving the few seconds in her mind, she shivered. His hand hadn’t been as soft as she expected. She knew he was an avid tennis player in his spare time, and that his mother was fond of arranging dates to accompany him to company dinners. Mia knew nothing more about his personal life. Among the paralegals and clerical help, there was some gossip and the occasional rumor, but she made a point to stay clear of the whispers.
Smoothing down her dress, satisfied that it wasn’t too wrinkled, she palmed the key card and opened the door. And stopped cold.
David stood in the hall, staring at her. He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He wore the same clothes he’d worn at dinner, only his sleeves were rolled back, exposing his muscled forearms. Definitely a tennis player.
“I was about to knock,” he said. “If you’re on your way out—”
No way she’d let him weasel out of this. She opened her mouth to tell him just that, but he hadn’t finished.
“I’ll keep it brief.” Without hesitation, he took a step toward her, his lips twitching into what could only be described as a predatory smile.
“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Then he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him, sending her scurrying backward with the inelegant grace of a beached whale.
“I HOPE YOU WEREN’T on your way to meet Jeff,” David said. “If you are, it’s a complete mistake.”
Mia backed up another step, stopped, gave him a good long look, then laughed. “You came here to tell me that?”
“I did.”
“For an overpaid attorney, you’re not every observant.”
He lifted his brows.
She hid a smile. “I meant high-priced.”
“I know you were embarrassed at dinner, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t give him another chance.” Again he advanced on her, and her pulse skittered. “The guy’s a drunken lout. He’s not good enough for you. Even if only for a week.”
Heat crawled up her neck. He was right, of course, and she had no intention of doing more than exchanging a greeting with Jeff should she see him in the lobby. But David had no business butting in. “Since when are you an expert on my personal life?”
“Touché.” He took her hand, slowly rubbed her palm with his thumb.
She tensed, but in a good way. Jesus, this was David touching her, his face so close that she could see the light flecks of amber in his brown eyes. Funny, she’d always thought they were much darker, more serious.
She straightened, tried to ignore the disturbing sensations his thumb caused. “In fact, Mr. Pearson, you really don’t know anything about me, do you?”
His gaze touched her mouth, lingered and then leisurely moved up. “Don’t I?”
“In the three years since we met, you haven’t said anything more personal than ‘Have a nice weekend.’ And that was on a Saturday afternoon, after we’d worked most of the day together.”
“You exaggerate.”
“Not by much.”
“You think it was easy, keeping my distance?”
“I honestly have no idea.” Her breath caught at the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You should’ve been a poker player, instead of a lawyer. You could’ve made a killing.”
He wrapped his fingers around her hand and tugged her closer. “My intentions must be fairly obvious now,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
She tilted her head back, refusing to be the first to break eye contact as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He was hard behind the fly of his khakis, the knowledge shattering a bit of her control. His hand splayed across the exposed skin of her lower back, and his palm felt hotter than it had before.
The tingling began there, traveled all the way up her spine and settled in her braless breasts, tightening her nipples, making them so sensitive that she could hardly stand to have them touch the light sateen material of her dress. Only a knot of fabric at her nape kept the halter in place. The gentlest pressure, the smallest tug…
He put his mouth on hers, his lips soft and supple, his breath minty. She moved against him, laid a hand on his chest, finding a surprising wall of muscle beneath the cotton fabric. When he drew his tongue across the seam of her lips, she parted them, inviting him inside.
David knew how to kiss—he was even better than she’d imagined. He smoothly dove in, but took his time, tasting, nibbling, touching his tongue to hers, giving her just so much, and then holding back until she trembled from wanting more. She pressed herself against him, pushed up to increase the pressure of his mouth. Her aroused nipples rubbed against his chest, and she thought for one dazed, hopeful second that he was about to untie her top.
But he only stroked her back, made a final sweep of the inside of her cheek. When he retreated, lingering long enough to touch his lips to hers one last time, she nearly whimpered in protest.
“I’ve wanted to do that for three years,” he said, his voice husky, his eyes smoldering with a hunger that stole her breath.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered, her whole body weak. “You never showed it.”
“No.” With his thumb, he stroked her cheek. “I couldn’t.”
A part of her resented his ability to exercise that much control. She herself had struggled to keep her feelings in check, and too often she’d failed. How many times had she worried that other people in the office had noticed the lingering looks, the longing in her face? Especially that first year when she’d been too naive to understand that David would never breach company policy. Or finally to accept that he simply wasn’t interested in her.
He lowered his head again, and brushed his lips across hers. Gently, almost too gently. Surely he didn’t need a push. She was about to make it clear they wanted the same thing, even if she had to strip off his clothes, when he broke contact, moved back, out of reach.
“I’ve rented a car,” he said, “and I plan on driving around the island tomorrow. I’d like for you to join me.”
Her arms hanging loosely at her sides, her chest still heaving, she could only stare mutely at him. He’d reverted to the old David. Just like that. His face was unreadable, his eyes filled with that dark intensity that both excited and frustrated her. But the thing he couldn’t hide was the bulge behind his fly.
“Naturally I understand if you already have plans.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and backed toward the door.
“No, um, not yet.” She really hadn’t had much to drink, maybe it was jet lag, but her head was fuzzy. She didn’t get what was happening. “I’d love to go.”
“Would nine-thirty be all right?”
“Nine-thirty. Sure.”
“Let’s meet in the lobby.”
“Okay.”
“I’m looking forward to spending time with you, Mia,” he said. “Tomorrow, then.”
“David—”
“Good night.” He barely smiled, then left the room.
Mia stared at the closed door, wondering what the hell had just happened. Her lips weren’t the only place still damp from his kiss. And he’d been as aroused as she. Ten more minutes and they would’ve been locking the adjoining door and diving between the sheets. She wanted it, and she knew he did,