She stared back up at him, feeling the heat radiating off him. She heard a scraping sound and realized it came from him pulling one of her chairs back away from the table. Then she watched as he eased down into it, facing her. “You liked doing it this way, Jules.”
He’d spoken in a sexy tone, reminding her of the time in Miami one night when they had been on the hotel room’s patio. He had sat naked in a chair, and she had sat naked, straddling him while he thrust in and out of her. She had definitely liked that position. While sitting in the chair facing him, she was able to look into his face and see each and every one of his expressions. She hadn’t experienced anything as erotic in her entire life. And it seemed each and every thrust had met its mark, hitting right on her G-spot. She didn’t want to remember just how many orgasms she’d had that night.
“Don’t you?”
His question hung between them, brushing against her skin, soaking memories into her flesh. Her self-control was slipping, and she didn’t like it. When he calmly sat back in the chair and slowly eased his legs apart, she saw what he wanted her to see. His huge erection.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to breathe in slowly as she fought to regain her control. A racy, hot fire was inching through her body, wrapping around her like a cape. Tightening like a band around her, making it impossible for her to escape a need Dalton could so easily generate within her.
“You might as well open your eyes, because it’s not going anywhere.”
She opened her eyes, and it seemed the moment she did so, lust, as edgy and intense as it could get, took over her mind, and all she could do was stare at him, especially at his bulging crotch.
“You’re thinking too hard, Jules.”
Yes, she probably was. “And you’re getting too hard, Dalton.”
He smiled. “Making it just right for you,” he said, answering easily.
She shook her head. “This is crazy.”
He chuckled. “No, this is man wanting woman and woman wanting man. Nothing crazy about it.”
Jules sighed, not so sure. “I don’t even like you.”
“You could have fooled me in Miami, and I’m sure, given how I felt a few months ago, I could have fooled you, too. Sex has a way of changing people.”
“Not people,” she countered. “Attitudes.”
“Same difference. And have you finished thinking yet? Because when you stop thinking, then I can start doing.”
He had said she was the thinker and he was the doer, and considering her time with him while in South Beach, she believed him. “Yes, I’ve finished thinking.”
Dalton nodded slowly. “And what have you decided?”
Jules briefly considered how she would say this and decided to just be frank. “I’ve decided to see whether this chair is as sturdy as the one in Miami.”
She wasn’t sure what she saw first—the darkening of his eyes or the sexy smile that curved his lips. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said huskily.
Twenty-Four
Dalton concluded that although Jules might be the thinker and he the doer, when it came to this, they were of one accord. He could barely sit still watching Jules strip off her clothes in front of him. It amused him that whenever he’d seen her enter a nightclub, she’d always worn some sort of scandalous, barely there outfit. But here in the comfort of her home, beneath her robe, she was wearing flannel pajamas. However, he had to admit they were a cute pair, and she looked sexy in them.
“We really should be talking, Dalton.”
He watched her, captivated by how she was slowly easing her pajama bottoms down her legs. “Talking about what?”
“Why this shouldn’t be happening.”
In that case, she wasn’t about to hear a peep out of him.
“Dalton?” she called out to him when he hadn’t responded. Now his gaze was fixated on the area between her thighs. And from where he was sitting, it was at eye level. He forced his gaze to her face. “Yes?”
“I said we should be talking.”
“We should be doing just what we’re doing.”