Day after day he worked out hard—harder than ever, trying not to crack. At this rate, he’d soon turn his entire body into one giant muscle.
“I’m going to the gallery to get some work done.” She stood and walked over to the coffee pot. She took a travel mug from one of the cabinets. “I guess you’ll be working in your office?”
“For most of the day,” he admitted.
He stood as well and watched her pour coffee into the container. She appeared composed and calm, and his resolve wavered. Maybe he’d made a mistake and should satiate the ever-present need for her that hummed through his body. The idea was starting to look better and better.
He placed his dishes in the sink.
She screwed the top on the mug and said, “I’ll see you later, then.”
They moved at the same time. His arm bumped her breast, and he heard her sharp intake of air. A simple apology should have sufficed, but untempered desire raged through him and he caught her by the arms.
They both froze.
They stared at each other. Tension, familiar and unwelcome, tightened his shoulders.
His hands contracted around her soft skin. He could take her now. If he lifted her against the wall and dragged aside her panties, he could be inside of her within seconds without a single objection. The evidence of her own brittle resolve was laid bare in her eyes, but he’d made a promise and intended to keep it.
Somehow he managed to reel in the hunger and go against his protesting body. Somehow he managed to release her and step back.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled.
She breathed through her mouth. “No problem.” She swallowed and averted her eyes before rushing off.
He watched her leave. She was being extremely polite—they both were, but the tension between them had heightened. It was only a matter of time before one of them cracked under the strain.
Chapter Fourteen
Daniella awoke in the middle of the night to find Cyrus’s hands on her body. In the near darkness, they roamed over her thighs and ass.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
His mouth was against her neck. “You came over here. I have to assume this is what you want.”
Indeed, she could see half the bed in front of her, and she lay wedged up against Cyrus with a hot throb between her legs. She’d had another erotic dream. This time her subconscious self had sought him out and sent her to his side of the bed.
He cupped her breasts through her nightgown, squeezing as if judging their texture. Heat swept across her skin and she trembled, thoroughly aroused as if foreplay had started hours ago. She twisted restlessly as he feathered his thumbs over the tips of her nipples. His hands felt so good she wanted the flimsy, gossamer barrier removed. She wished she could tear it off to enjoy the touch of his hands on her bare skin. Arching her back, she thrust her breasts against his palms. A helpless moan—a sound filled with unbearable yearning—spilled from her chest.
“Missed these,” he groaned.
He continued to fondle her, plucking her nipples and squeezing his favorite part of her anatomy. He pressed her breasts together and slipped a hard leg between her thighs, grinding his erection into her backside. The motion evoked erotic sensations and spread fire through her veins, making her ache to have him inside of her as soon as possible.
She turned onto her back, and he rolled on top of her. The familiar weight of him pressed her into the mattress. Chest to chest, she felt the heavy thud of his heart against hers. Their rapid beats appeared to be synchronized.
She cupped the back of his head, brought his mouth down, and parted her lips, an open invitation as she readied for his tongue, anxious for a taste. A drugging kiss ensued, leisurely yet devouring, hungry yet affectionate. Their mouths slid over each other, moist and warm. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled softly, then moved lower to suck gently on her chin.