Two
days had passed since their spa date, and Clare hadn’t heard a word from
Antonio until a few minutes ago. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? She’d
shown him more of herself, literally and figuratively, than she had any other
man—ever. She’d shown him enough to send him running back to New York, she
thought.
But he
hadn’t run. He was on his way up to her office. Probably to say goodbye. Well,
goodbye, yourself, Antonio Ramirez. Go find yourself a skinny-assed actress to
play the part of your wife. I’m through playing your games.
She
shoved random clutter into her file drawer and silenced the metronome
tick-tocking away on her desk. She never should have answered the call, but
when his name appeared on the caller ID, she had practically gone into cardiac
arrest. She’d been starved for the sound of his voice. Couldn’t get the feel of
his hands on her out of her head. Couldn’t breathe without missing his scent.
She
had just crammed the latest set of ungraded test papers into her briefcase when
he filled her doorway. One look at him and she realized she wanted nothing more
than to play every game in the book with him. If only he would ask.
Leaning
against the jamb, his arms crossed over his chest and one knee bent, he looked
like a billboard for sex. Want sex?
Call-800-Antonio. Warmth flooded her system, and she swallowed hard.
“You
done, babe?”
She
nodded, not trusting her voice.
He
straightened and took a step inside, closing the door behind him. He folded his
hands behind his back and leaned his shoulders on the door. No one wore a
T-shirt like Antonio Ramirez. The fabric wasn’t tight, but it clung to his hard
chest and abs. He shifted slightly, drawing her attention lower. Tight jeans
left no doubt as to his state of arousal.
“I
tried to stay away. I tried to tell myself you needed time, that I could wait
to have you, but I was lying to myself.” One hand moved to the doorknob. “I
want you. Right here. Right now.” His index finger and thumb closed over the
lock mechanism. “If you feel the same way, say yes, and I’ll lock the door.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Did she feel
the same? Hell, yes! Her body throbbed with want and need.
Her
mind raced through practicalities and details. Here? What if a student comes by? The hell with office hours.
Underwear? Not sexy, but decent. She’d shaved and trimmed this
morning—thank God. It was now or never. How many times would she get an offer
like this? Never again, she was sure.
She
clenched her hands into fists in her lap and squared her shoulders. So what if
he only wanted a fuck buddy until he found someone more to his liking in
Dallas? She’d have to be insane to turn down an opportunity like this.
“Yes,”
she said.
Before
she finished the single syllable, he set the lock and pushed away from the
door.
Her
heart leapt into her throat. This had to be a dream. Maybe she’d nodded off and
her subconscious was having a field day. She dug her fingernails into her palms
until the pain told her she was awake.
His
legs made short work of her small office. Her feet shuffled, spinning her chair
to face him as he rounded her desk. Antonio leaned over and placed his hands on
the arms of her chair, boxing her in and surrounding her with his now familiar
scent. Desire pulsed through her system.
“Don’t
move,” he said, sinking to his knees in front of her. He parted her legs and
filled the space with his body. A shaft of late afternoon light crowned his
head, burnishing his blue-black hair with gold highlights. “How much time do we
have?”
Her
brain scrambled for an answer. “Um…. My office hours are almost over, so…as
long as we want?”
His
smile almost melted her panties. “Oh, babe, you don’t know how happy I am to
hear that.”
He
cupped her knees then slid beneath her skirt, up to where her underwear banded
her thighs. Clare stared at the bunched fabric covering his hands. So close.
“These
have to go.” His thumbs brushed cotton, found the elastic at the top, and
tugged. Somehow, he lifted her and slipped the conservative garment to
mid-thigh without her help. Then they landed on top of her desk in a twisted
heap, and he was right back between her knees, only this time his fingers teased
the short curls beneath her skirt.
“Your
skin is silk. I could touch you all day, Clare, but I need to see you. The
other day, at the spa…I can’t get it out of my mind. Can I see you like that
again?”
“Yes.”
A slight nod accompanied the whispered word.
“Unbutton
your blouse for me, babe.” His thumbs pressed between her legs then gently
pulled, opening the top of her slit. If he could see through the skirt fabric,
he would see her clit peeking out, begging for attention.
She
lifted trembling hands to the top button on her blouse. Dazed, she did as he
said. One by one, the buttons slid free. Cool air rushed in and caused her
heated torso to break out in goose bumps. When she reached the last button
above the skirt’s waistband, he said, “Pull it open for me. Let me see.”
His
hands were still beneath her skirt, lazily toying with her folds, her clit,
driving her insane while his gaze roamed every inch of exposed skin above. Her
clit pulsed and throbbed.
“Now
the bra. Push it up. We’ll unhook it later.”
She
worked the fabric upward so her freed breasts were framed by her bra on the
top, her open blouse on the sides and the waistband of her skirt below. Cool
air hit her nipples, and they tightened into hard points. Heat crept from her
chest to her face. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip while her hands
gripped the chair arms as if she were about to be launched into space.
Lord,
what was she doing? She’d had her share of horny professor fantasies, but never
anything that came close to this. Antonio had trapped her within his force
field, almost had her believing the things he said to her.
“You
are so fucking beautiful, babe.”
Pretty little lies.
Moving
quickly, he took her right breast in his mouth, swirling the nipple with his
tongue, suckling hard. She arched her back, encouraging him to take all he
wanted. She held onto the chair in a death grip while he lavished attention on
one breast, then the other. He seemed to know just what to do to make her lose
her mind. She was wet, drenched between her legs. His fingers found her,
plunged deep, retreated, and plunged again.
She
writhed against his hand, sliding her ass across the seat toward him until she
was about to fall off the edge. He groaned, sending a shiver of pure carnal
lust from her breast to her pussy.
She
ached for him. Needed more than fingers and a solo orgasm. She didn’t think
twice. She begged.
“Please.”
He
released her breast with an audible pop at the same time he withdrew his
fingers leaving her empty and beyond desperate. Before she could muster a
protest, he stood, lifting her as if she were a feather.
“Got
to have you,” he said.
Supporting
her with one hand, he shoved her chair out of the way and lowered her to the
floor.
God,
the man could move fast. Home plate to
first base in three point nine seconds. He stood, stripped off his jeans
and boots, yanked his shirt over his head, and dropped to his knees between her
splayed legs, wearing nothing but his socks and a pair of white cotton briefs.
He worked her skirt up to her waist and sat back on his heels.
“I’m
speechless,” he said. “Tell me you want this.”
He was
speechless? He had a body every woman dreamed of—all hard planes and tight skin
over defined muscles. Flat, dark nipples punctuated powerful pecs. His ribcage,
wide at his chest, tapered to a slim waist and hips that would fit perfectly
between her legs. She’d never wanted anything or anyone more in her life. He
made her feel reckless and wanton, and the desire in his eyes made her feel
beautiful. If he never looked at her that way again she would take this moment
and cherish it forever.
“You
better have a condom.” She’d have to kill him if he didn’t. Where that bit of
sanity came from, she didn’t know.
He
reached for his jeans, fished a foil packet out of his pocket, and shoved his
underwear down his thighs. His erection sprang free. Her mouth watered. He
rolled the sheath on with the ease of a man who had plenty of experience and
not an ounce of self-consciousness.
The
moment of sanity was gone.
Clare
lifted her hips in invitation.
She
wanted him inside her.
Now.
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