“Are you sure? It’s getting late,” Robin said, but she had already turned off the car.
Inside, he offered her a beer, and wished he had something a little more sophisticated when she declined. She was standing in the middle of the room as he put the CD in the player, and as a haunting strain of a violin lifted from the speakers, he turned around, intent on making her sit in the one chair he had while he fetched another from the dining room.
But Robin surprised him. Shocked him. Put him back on his heels and floundering like a rodeo clown as she came striding forward, slipping into his arms as if she belonged there, tilting her head back and going up on her toes to kiss him.
That knocked Jake for a loop, sent him reeling, his heart tumbling and pinging off the wall of his chest. Her lips drifted across his like a whisper of silk, tantalizing him. Her arm slipped around his waist, pulling him closer, and she nestled against his chest. With her breasts pressed against him, he could feel the heat of her body and the shot of fire straight to his groin. Mentally, Jake stumbled; he was unaccustomed to being the recipient of bold ardor, always the one to initiate. Her hand was now on his rib cage, moving up, slipping around to his arm, then his neck, until she cupped his face.
Jake recoiled as if he had been burned by fire.
Robin opened her eyes, smiled so seductively that he believed for a split second he might literally collapse to his knees. If she touched him again, just touched him, he feared how he might react, how swiftly he might sweep her into his arms, carry her to his bed.
“What’s the matter?” she said in a throaty whisper. “Don’t you like it?”
Oh, he liked it all right—liked it so damn much he couldn’t find his tongue to tell her to stop.
With her finger, Robin lightly stroked a trail across his lips, then kissed the corner of his mouth, trailing a row of feathery light kisses to his ear. “Don’t you want me?” she whispered, and the dam burst, flooding every part of him, hardening his cock to the point of aching. The rock music was blaring in the background no creating a white-hot noise to surround them.
There was only one problem—she had invited him to dinner, she had paid for it, and she had driven him around like someone’s granny. He’d be damned if she was going to take this from him, too. Jake suddenly grabbed her hands and pushed them behind her back. “You’re gonna have to learn that you can’t always just take what you want,” he said low.
“What’s the matter?” she purred, smiling seductively.
“Sometimes, it’s sexy for a woman to be aggressive. But most of the time, its sexier if she just lets herself be a woman. Relax.”
Robin arched a brow. “Wow. That sounds like a another chapter from Confessions of a Neanderthal.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, inhaling her scent. “It’s a chapter from I’m Gonna Make You Scream.”
“Ooh,” Robin said and laughed low, letting her head fall back, exposing the creamy white skin of her neck.
Jake pulled her into his chest and with his mouth, he found her neck, devoured the flesh there before lifting his head so that his lips were against her ear. “I want you,” he said gruffly. “I want you so bad I just might explode.”
She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck as his lips grazed the curve of her throat. His hands had started a slow ascent up her rib cage; as he drew her earlobe between his teeth, he sought her breasts, finding them, cupping them, rubbing his thumbs across the flimsy fabric of her blouse. He could feel her body tense with his touch, and that only made his desire burn. His hand moved again, to her bottom, kneading it, holding her tightly against his rigid shaft while his tongue dueled wildly with hers.
His mind, his eyes, every orifice, every fiber, was filled with the scent and the feel of her. He didn’t even realize he was moving, until they bumped into a wall. God, he was melting, dangerously aroused and piteously desperate for her body. His hand slid from her cheek, fluttered to her collarbone and drifted down over her breast, cupping it in his palm to feel the succulent weight of it. His mouth, hungry for the taste of her, followed his hand, dipping to her neckline, touching the swell of her breast. Robin’s hands splayed against the wall behind her, and she rose on her tiptoes, lifting her breast to him, whimpering softly when his lips closed around her nipple through the sheer fabric of her blouse. Aware that he was devouring her like a madman, without care to her expensive clothing or anything but the need to feel her, touch her, be in her, he could not keep his hands from roaming her body, could not stop his mouth from suckling her.
“Where?” she whispered hoarsely. “Where is your bed?”