Into the Fire - Leslie Kelly [49]
Gradually, hearing the ticking of a clock on Nate's desk and her own raging pulse, she recognized what she did not hear. Nate's voice. Almost afraid to look, she shifted her eyes to the left and slowly lifted her gaze. Nate still sat in the chair a few feet away. He wasn't, however, listening to his telephone conversation. Oh, no, that would have been too easy. Instead, the phone receiver rested in its cradle. Nate sat silently watching her, completely focused on what she was doing.
He didn't smile. No teasing light shone in his eyes. No boyish grin let her know he was amused by how engrossed she'd been in his article. Not that the word engrossed was exactly what she'd have chosen. Turned on would be more accurate. He obviously knew it. Because he wasn't smiling—he was smoldering. The expression on his face was pure need.
"Finished?" he asked. Lacey wondered how he managed to load so much meaning into a single word. No, she wasn't finished—nowhere near finished. But, oh, how she wanted to get started!
"Can you really do that? That thing with the feather?" She wondered where she'd found the nerve to voice her question.
The half smile on his lips and the slight narrowing of his eyes provided his answer. Yes, he obviously could.
She gulped. "The … kissing … the ten-minute kiss…"
He clenched his jaw, and she heard him let out a small groan. Finally he said, "You're killing me, Lacey."
She knew it. And she didn't care. Dropping the magazine, she rose to her knees and extended one arm to him in invitation, brushing the back of her hand across one hard, jeans-clad thigh. "Show me."
Nate didn't hesitate. Sliding off the chair, he knelt directly in front of her. They were close, face to face, almost chest to chest. He saw the cloudy look of passion in her blue eyes, though they hadn't yet touched. He understood it. His arousal matched hers, just from watching her, knowing what she was thinking, what she was imagining. Touching would be the icing on the cake.
"Show me now, Nate," she ordered with a moan when he did not move to take her in his arms. She slipped her hands up and laid them flat on his chest Nate sucked in a breath as she slid them higher, until her fingers made contact with the bare skin of his neck. Her light touch on his flesh had him ready to explode.
He shook his head, encircling her wrists with his hands. Then he pulled her fingers away and pushed her hands to her sides. Tsking, he glanced over his shoulder at the clock. "Ten minutes. No touching. Just kissing."
Her eyes widened with anticipation as Nate finally leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers.
Slow. Soft. Very sweet. Start gently, he reminded himself, knowing the object of this particular erotic exercise was restraint. It was time to savor, time to focus on the pleasure of a kiss, to taste the sweetness of her tongue and test the sharp contours of her teeth. All the other delicious touching, stroking and caressing would come later. No question about it.
As he lost himself in the feel of her, in the taste of her, in her sweet scent, Nate came to a definite realization. Ten minutes isn't going to be nearly enough.
Lacey caught on quickly. She kept her hands at her sides, resisting the need to pull him closer, to bring his hard body against hers while they touched with only their mouths. At first the pressure was tremendous. Feeling a sob of pure need rise in the back of her throat, she thought she wouldn't really be able to go ten minutes without touching him, without pulling him down on top of her and touching all that smooth male skin. But she concentrated and thrust everything else out of her mind—everything except the sensations of the kiss they shared.
It was worth it. His lips played with hers, nibbling, stroking, soft then hard. When she licked at him, demanding more, he wouldn't accede to her demands,