All the Wright Moves (8 page)

She stiffened and he flashed back to the memory of her at his house. How her body seemed to be stiffer than before. Something else to think about and figure out.

“I don’t want to be caught necking in my truck.” He shrugged easily. “Well, the necking part would be fun.” Her smile was tentative but there. “I want more. Dates, meeting family”—he winked—“sleepovers. Lots of them.”

He could feel her tremble even though her expression never changed. Moving his fingers from her lips, he trailed them over her cheekbone and along her chin before sliding down her neck and along the edge of her tunic.

“I want to hold you all night. Fall asleep with you in my arms and wake that very same way.” He stared at his fingers as he travelled them farther down towards the belt. “I want to make love to you, Katiya. Strip off all these damn clothes you wear and see your body, which has haunted my dreams since the day I met you. Learn every curve, memorise each inch, taste your skin.”

She whimpered and he raked his gaze back up to her eyes. Her lips were shiny and he longed to take them again.

“See me tonight, Katiya.” He put it all out there on the table for her. “Make some time for us to be together, without the distraction of work or anything else that may pop up while we’re here.”

Her tongue sneaked out and dampened her lips again, making him want to growl with primal desire.

“I’m here late,” she said, her voice barely residing above a whisper.

“Don’t care.”

“I won’t be home until around nine.”

“Want me to bring dinner?” he asked, refusing to give in to any of her lame excuses. If he had to wait until midnight to see her, then that’s exactly what he’d do. Whatever it took.

He could see her weighing it in her head. When she nodded, he expelled a breath he’d not even realised he’d been holding. Relief flooded him.

“Okay.”

Sinking his hands into her soft hair, he drew her close and dragged his tongue along the seam of her lips before delving inside her waiting mouth. She sighed and kissed him back. While all the heat and fire was still there, this kiss was slower, more tantalising. It had a deeper intensity and meaning behind it.

He massaged the back of her head while their tongues duelled. He was so hard he could have split rocks with his cock. The scent of her, coconut and strawberries, flowed around him and he longed to know how she tasted. Everywhere.

A beeping sound drew them apart. Her eyes were unfocused and passion filled as she pulled away from him. She blinked a few times and gave him a final kiss before climbing off his lap and moving to her desk. She didn’t walk—she flowed with this innate grace he’d never seen so natural for a woman before.

“Yes?” she asked lifting the receiver.

He readjusted his shaft in his pants and crouched to the floor to gather up her dropped papers. Pushing to his feet, he noticed she sat on the edge of her desk, watching him. Almost a thoughtful look.

“Time to get back to work?”

“Yes,” she said and he was positive he picked up on some regret in her tone.

He strode towards her, loving how her gaze trailed over him, full of appreciation, before meeting his eyes again. He handed her the pile of papers and was blessed with a soft smile.

“I’ll see you tonight then, Katiya,” he murmured, skimming her cheek with his knuckles.

“Tonight.”

One final kiss then he walked to the door, unlocked it, and walked out, closing it softly behind him. His body was already tense in expectation of what it would be like to be with her. There was no doubt what was going to happen. And he was beyond ready.

* * * *

“Kat. Kat!”

Katiya looked up from the clipboard and tried desperately to remember what they were talking about. Her sister, Delicia stood before her, dressed in her work uniform.

What the crap were we talking about?

Her mind was on tonight. Warwick at her house. And what that would lead to. She had something this man was more than capable of soothing. All that muscle would be hers, at least for the night. Those sexy dimples, she could finally lick. She’d analyse it later. Right now there were matters involving The Oasis to tend to.

Like whatever thing my sister is going on about. Crap, if I could just recall what we were discussing.

“What, Lis?”

“Rhia said you changed the room for the CPR class but she didn’t know which one you wanted us in.”

Glancing behind her sister, she noticed a group of fifteen people waiting.
Shit.
“Sorry.” She flipped through the pages on her clipboard. “Use two-oh-five.”

Her sister eyed her up and down but thankfully didn’t say a word about her space cadet behaviour. “Okay.”

Lis walked away, her partner, Thom, falling into step with her, and the rest of the group who’d signed up for the CPR certification class following behind. There wasn’t any time to dwell on that, however, because soon after, Rhia came up to her and they got to work on setting up more classes and finding the people who would come in and teach them.

By eight that night, everyone had gone home except for her. She sat in her office and finished up some paperwork. With a groan, she stretched her neck and shoulders before taking a deep breath. Eight-thirty. She was hungry and tired.

Things were coming along swimmingly. The new systems were a godsend. Not to mention how Warwick had left some of his people to teach classes and more. An ugly thought raced to the forefront. Was he so sure they would sleep together because of his donation?

“Don’t think that way, Kat,” she reprimanded herself. “Things were donated before you met him. Besides, I’m sure he has more than enough willing women to sleep with him.”

That thought soured her. Shaking it off, she logged off her computer and began straightening up her desk. Finally ready, she headed for the door. The phone rang right before she got there and she paused. With a firm shake of her head, she left and headed to the front, knowing whoever it was could leave a message and she would deal with it the next time she came into her office. Right now, she had something more important to tend to. Warwick waited for her. Setting the alarm and locking the door, she headed for her car.

The closer she got to home, the more nervous she felt. Butterflies gathered in the pit of her belly and all seemed to flap harder when she pulled into her drive and parked next to the car where he waited for her.

Warwick.

He’d driven a Mercedes-Benz SL-Class Roadster and got out when she stopped her vehicle beside his. The light from her porch framed his physique. And just like that she was wet and could hardly focus on anything but what his touch allowed her to feel. How intense, how heady, how damn addicting he was.

“Good lord,” she muttered, turning off the engine and climbing out. She couldn’t help it. He just looked…divine.

He wore jeans, as he had today when he’d cornered her in her office. But instead of a T-shirt, he wore a long-sleeved crewneck shirt—her guess, to ward off the chill of the spring night. In one hand he had a bag that she assumed held their meal. Her stomach growled at the thought of food. Her pussy pulsed at the thought of
after
.

Swallowing hard, she locked her car and met him at the base of the steps.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured, before brushing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

She almost dropped her keys. “H…hello.”
This man has entirely too much magnetism for my own good
.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Starved,” she admitted, and she was. Today had been so busy all she’d grabbed was an apple from the kitchen.

“Me too.”

Those two words were delivered on silken velvet along with erotic decadent promise. Somehow she didn’t think he spoke of food. Another wave of heat slammed into her and her vision flickered.
I have got to keep it together.
Somehow she made it up to the door and unlocked it.

“Come on in,” she said, stepping through and flipping on the living room light while turning off the one which illuminated her porch.

He was right on her heels, taking up a lot of her air. She sat her purse down on the small mosaic table by the door and sighed. Her deep breath brought to her nose the evocative scent of Warwick. It was totally unfair for a man to smell so desirable. So fresh, pure and masculine. The notes teased her nose and made her want him even more.

She swallowed hard and silently led the way to the kitchen. He unpacked the bag while she gathered plates and silverware then set the table.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asked, glancing up from the bag.

“Busy. Good, though. We’ve got a few more new classes that we’ll be starting.”

“Great.” He dished up the rice pilaf and chicken before splitting up the steamed vegetables.

She filled the glasses with ice water and sat down across from him. “How about with you?”
My goodness, this is like we’re a married couple talking about our day.
And that didn’t scare her like she thought it might.

“Also busy. But time seemed to take forever to pass by.”

His indigo eyes smouldered as they held hers. So intense and heated was his stare that her fork wobbled in her unsteady hand. Unsure of how to respond, she ate a bite of the chicken and chewed slowly.

A masculine and knowing smile lifted his lips, showcasing those sexy dimples. He saluted her with his fork and dug into his own meal. The talk was polite as they ate. Unfortunately for her, it did nothing to cool down her craving for this man. The way he took food off the fork, the up and down bobbing of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed. How his mouth formed words when he spoke. All it did was increase her desire for him until it was almost unbearable.

He got up and approached with two containers. “I didn’t know what you liked as far as dessert so you have two options. Chess pie and lemon cake.”

She smiled. “Lemon cake.” Her eyes met his. “One of my favourites.”

Warwick popped the top on the plastic container and set it before her. She licked her lips in anticipation. Three layers of lemon cake with creamy lemon frosting. One of her weaknesses.

“This looks divine,” she said on a half moan.

The sound of a chair sliding across her floor pulled her attention from the confection. Warwick had settled himself right beside her. He lifted her fork, cut into the cake and held it to her lips.

“Open.” His command was a whispered thread of passion.

She did. The cake had been done to perfection and seemed to melt in her mouth.
Oh my goodness.
His eyes watched her the whole time and she could see the desire in their depths. Another bite, and another—he continued to feed her until she shook her head at the offer. She couldn’t possibly eat another bite. Warwick finished off the final piece on the utensil.

He placed the fork down and kissed her. Covered her lips with his until she opened for his questing tongue. He took his time and explored her mouth, allowing his taste combined with the lemon cake to flood her.

Lord help me.

Her hands settled upon his shoulders, drawing him in closer. His touch intoxicated. Her nipples pressed tightly against the material of her bra. With a possessive growl he yanked her from her chair and settled her across his lap. Tightening his hold on her hair, he plundered her mouth, taking what he wanted. Her submission. Which she gave. Willingly. From her mouth he progressed down along her chin, across her exposed neck to her shoulder, where he nipped. A spear of electricity shot through her at that. She hung her head back, exposing herself to him, offering herself to him.

“Warwick,” she panted, her nails digging through his shirt. She rubbed her lower body continually along his shaft.

He cupped her ass and got to his feet. “Bedroom?”

“Down the hall, second door on the—” He swept her off her feet and held her against his powerful chest. Her body felt so right in his arms. Once in the bedroom, the light on, he placed her on her feet and kissed her again, pressed her back against the door and made love to her mouth with his kisses.

She wanted him naked. Wanted him to be deep inside her. Wanted her nails digging into the flesh on his back as he pounded into her while she cried to the room. He gripped the bottom of her tunic, ripped his mouth off hers and lifted the fabric over her head leaving her clad in a ribbed white tank top. The tunic dropped forgotten to the floor.

Dear merciful heavens, I’m going to become a puddle if he keeps looking at me like that.

He reached for the button on her jeans and she took a sharp breath when he undid it, the hiss of the zipper the only sound in the room other than their breathing. When he tugged them down, she almost stopped him but the need pooled deep within her stayed her hand. Once they reached her feet, she stepped out of them, kicked them to the side. Her shoes followed soon after.

A grumble raced out of him. He took the hem of her tank top and slowly drew it up over her head.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

She stood against the wall wearing a white bra and panties. He stared hungrily at her, like a wolf watching a yearling. It increased the liquid heat coursing through her veins, the craving for him amplified one hundred fold.

His hands shadowed her silhouette from head to toe. He trailed his fingers up the outsides of her legs, moving towards her waist. His touch burned her to the core. Her legs trembled as she tried to remain upright.

Along the outsides of her bra, he dragged his touch over the full globes. Her nipples hardened even more, crying out for his touch without the satin of the bra between them.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “All swells and curves. Perfection. You have a body the gods made for loving, Katiya Wright.”

She felt like it.

One finger slid a white bra strap down over one shoulder. She held her breath. Finally the cup dropped from her breast, exposing the puckered nipple.

Touch me.

His thumb swiped the tip and shot spikes of electricity through her. “Warwick,” she whimpered.