Flirting With Temptation (28 page)

Unaware of her inner struggle, Jeff crossed the room and sat on one end of the couch. Babette followed, sitting on the other end and trying to act casual, as though she wasn’t on the brink of losing control of the temptation of having him here, with her, alone in her condo.

“First, I want to apologize for leaving like I did earlier.” He put one arm on the back of the couch, and her attention was drawn to the long, tan fingers resting so near her head, and her mouth. A powerful urge to kiss each finger, and then his palm, and then . . .

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper. But I didn’t want to talk to Kitty, and I really didn’t want to hear you ask me to.”

Babette stopped thinking about kissing him all over, which typically would’ve been difficult to stop, and thought about how she should respond. If she said she didn’t want him talking to Kitty either, then she was showing him she wasn’t committed to her job, and she was, except for when she was supposed to get him back with his ex. And if she said that she really wanted him to talk to Kitty, then she’d be lying, and she wasn’t going to lie to Jeff again. Ever.

So she remained silent, which proved okay, because he kept talking.

“Since it looks like you’re going to make it without flirting,” he said, a slight grin playing on his lips, “I’ll talk to her then, but not before. And I’ll tell you right now, that there’s no way the two of us are getting back together, so don’t go spending all her money yet.”

Babette cheered inwardly, but said nothing outwardly. She really was in a fix with her portion of this conversation, which was, so far, nonexistent.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice, and continued again.

“But that’s not all I wanted to talk to you about, and the other thing is what’s most important to me anyway.”

“What’s most important?” she repeated, thankful that he might have moved on to a topic that allowed her participation.

“Yeah. You said something the other night that I didn’t really analyze at the time. I guess because you were so sick from the sunburn, and I was so focused on trying to help that I didn’t think about it. But tonight, I remembered it, and I guess I just want to know the answer.”

She had no earthly idea what he was talking about. “The answer to what?”

“Your third-date rule.”

Uh-oh. “Third-date rule?” she asked, turning away from him and repositioning the magazines on the end table so she could gather her composure. Heaven help her, in her fever-induced state, she’d told him about her third-date rule! Which made her wonder what else she’d said.

“The rule that you don’t sleep with guys until the third date,” he said. “The rule you broke once, with me.”

“Right, that third-date rule,” she said, swallowing hard as she continued arranging the magazines. They could stay fanned on the table, or maybe stacked in a pile would be better. How many ways could she rearrange magazines? “You wanted to talk about my third-date rule?” She couldn’t imagine what else there was to say, since he seemed to know all about it.

“Kind of. Actually, I was wondering when the last time was that you actually had a third date.”

Her head jerked around so fast, her hair kept going and hit her in the face.

“You talk a lot when you have a fever. You said something about no more third dates, and that got me to wondering how long it’d been.”

She literally felt her cheeks sting with embarrassment.

“How long, Babette? Since you had a third date?”

Those had to be the most incredible eyes she’d ever seen. She’d forgotten how much she missed them, or how blue they were, with that brilliant turquoise, and then the tiniest ring of navy around the edge. And the mouth, the mouth that had done so many wickedly wonderful things to her, to every part of her, when they’d been together. The same mouth that had laughed with her so freely this week, when they danced with the seniors at the benefit and when they played on the beach. He’d ruined her for anyone else, because after him, no one else would do.

“How long?” he repeated.

There was no use lying. He’d be able to tell; he could always tell when she lied. “The last time was with you.”

“Why.” The way he said it, it didn’t sound like a question. “Or why not?” The last part, however, did.

She shrugged. She’d told him enough already, and she still wasn’t all that certain why not. She’d only recently started to put it together; before, she’d thought that no one had “done it” for her in a while. She simply hadn’t realized how long a while that had been.

He looked up at the ceiling and didn’t say anything.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable with his silence, she attempted to fill the lull in conversation. “I guess I just haven’t wanted that in a while.”

“Bullshit.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she turned away from him and the way-too-uncomfortable conversation, and refocused on the magazines. Maybe they’d look better on the corner of the table instead of in the center. She’d move them and see.

The cushions on the couch shifted, and her back was suddenly very warm. He’d moved closer. She wasn’t going to turn around and verify it, or they might end up way too close for comfort. Five more days. If she could wait five days, long enough for her to remain committed in her current assignment and get him to at least talk to Kitty, then they could see where things went. Caving before that would only prove to him that she still couldn’t handle commitment, and she wasn’t going to cave. “Are you trying to make me flirt? Because I’ve made it this long, and I can make it longer, even if you were the last one to have a third date with me.”

He said nothing. But she could feel him breathing in the scent of her hair, and she now felt more than merely his heat. His body was definitely brushing against hers now, and unless she was really off the mark, one part of him was more prominent than the rest. He was breaking her resistance, determined to prove she couldn’t win the challenge. And if he tempted her with himself, she wouldn’t. But she wasn’t trying to win for herself anymore, and she wasn’t trying to win for Kitty; she was trying to win . . . for him.

“I mean it, Jeff. Leave me alone. I want to make this work, to prove I can be committed to something—my career—and I’ve been doing a damn good job.”

“You’re right,” he said, and have mercy, she felt the warmth of his breath against her left ear. And he might as well have breathed directly between her legs, because she felt the heat there too.

“Then go, please.”

“No. In fact, I have an idea that will require me to stay.”

She should not look at him. She shouldn’t. But she shifted slightly, so that she was looking over her shoulder at him. So much for what she shouldn’t do. “What idea?”

“You’re right. You’ve remained committed to your job this week, even when I tried tempting you with that beach volleyball game and the bikini contest.”

“And don’t forget the partner swap dance,” she said, then smiled.

“That one kind of backfired.”

“I don’t know. Mr. Moffett was pretty sexy.”

“Babette,” he said, his voice lowering again and losing all pretense of joking around.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been fighting something here, not just fighting talking to Kitty again, but something bigger.” He paused. “I want you, Babette.”

“But what about—”

“I don’t want to hear anything about her, not tonight. We’ll discuss whatever you want tomorrow. We’ll work through all of this tomorrow. Right now, I just want to be with you, without all of that mess getting in the way.”

She’d thought of hardly anything else since they’d walked on the beach yesterday, but she’d tried to control those desires by reminding herself of her job, of Kitty, of the fact that she still needed to prove that she could commit. And now, thanks to Rose, she had an idea for making everything work, if she could control herself for five more days.

However, right now, Jeff was here, and he wanted her, and she knew she wanted him.

“Say yes, Babette.”

She should wait, for five more days. But she’d been waiting for a year already, and she simply wasn’t willing to give up another minute. “Yes.”

His mouth was still near her ear, and he kissed it softly, then smiled against her cheek. “A year is a mighty long time to have gone without,” he said, nibbling his way down her jaw and to her neck, while Babette’s eyes slid closed and she relished the feeling of being with him again, of finally having the man she’d never stopped wanting.

She twisted to face him, saw his eyes were even a deeper blue with his arousal, and his pupils were dilated. He wanted her and, Babette realized, she
could
read Jeff’s body language; she just couldn’t read it for anyone else.

Because his desire was for her.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, taking her fingers to his temple and then tracing them along his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. Back when they’d been together before, they had always been in such a hurry, always frantic to achieve their goal, to find sexual satisfaction. That wasn’t what she wanted this time. She wanted to enjoy being with him. She wanted to enjoy loving him.

His eyes moved to her mouth, and even without her knowledge for reading people, she’d have known he wanted to kiss her. But again, the way he looked at her now, as though she was exactly what he’d always wanted, and the way he touched her now, as though she was something precious, told her that he was feeling the same surge of emotions that she was feeling. And it told her she didn’t need body language to read Jeff. She just needed to open her heart.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of kissing you again?” he asked.

Babette slid her hands behind his neck, tunneled them in those soft curls as she slowly pulled his mouth to hers. “No more dreaming.”

His mouth met hers softly, timidly, easing into what felt like their very first kiss. A shiver of desire, sweet and impassioned, flittered pleasurably through her, but she didn’t rush the natural feeling. Rather, she treasured the gentle desire, building with the intensity of his kiss. His tongue was warm and gentle, parting her mouth and sliding inside.

Babette moaned approvingly as he lightly stroked her tongue, then slowly deepened the kiss, his lips pressing more solidly against hers, and his body shifting slightly, moving on top of her, exactly where she wanted him.

They let the kiss linger, his hand rubbing her side as their bodies aligned to each other, curving naturally, intimately, expectantly. Then his fingers found the top button of her blouse and slid it free. One by one, while they continued to kiss, he undid each button, then pushed the sides apart and ran his palm up her abdomen to the front closure of her bra and easily unclasped it.

Babette squirmed beneath him. She suddenly felt shy, a bit embarrassed about her shape, or lack thereof.

Jeff must have sensed her nervousness, because he eased his mouth from hers, and looked into her eyes. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” she whispered, then inadvertently glanced at her chest.

He shook his head slightly. “Babette, you’re perfect.” He lowered his head to her chest, brushed a tender kiss across her nipple. “You know, I’ve heard that a lot of women who have their breasts done end up losing all natural sensations there, particularly here,” he said, running a fingertip around her nipple. “And to me, that’s the sexiest thing about them. The way they’re so responsive to the touch.” He kept that wonderful finger circling one nipple, while his lips found the other and drew it inside his warm mouth.

Babette’s hips lifted involuntarily, a direct response to the amazing things that his finger and mouth were doing to her breasts. Little or not, they
were
responsive.

“That’s what turns me on more than anything to do with size, Babette. The way they respond to the touch. The way they respond to
my
touch. Babette, I want you, exactly the way you are. I wouldn’t want you any other way, and I wouldn’t want any part of you any other way.”

His words touched her heart, because she had no doubt he meant them. She could see it in his eyes, hear the sincerity in his voice.

“Jeff.”

“Yeah?”

“Make love to me.” She should have thought about her words, should have told him something that didn’t say so much, merely because she’d never said those words before, and because he knew it. This wasn’t having sex; it was more, and she had no doubt they both knew that while this wasn’t the first time they’d ever had sex, it was a first for them. They were heading into new territory, and Babette couldn’t wait. Her heart was at the edge, and she was ready to let it fall. “Please.”

He stood, slid his arms beneath her and scooped her off the couch. Then, walking toward her bedroom, he kissed her softly. “We’re going to need more room.”

Babette laughed, but her laughter died when he placed her in the center of the bed. She’d worn a black linen skirt, and he unfastened it, slid it down her legs and dropped it to the floor, then took a moment to stare at her, wearing nothing but a purple thong.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, taking his hands to her waist, then sliding his fingers beneath the tiny straps before moving them down her legs and dropping the satin panties to the floor. Again, he paused, looking at her boldly.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered. “I want to see you too.” Then she looked toward the windows, and the drawn drapes. “And I want to hear the waves when we make love, and see you in the moonlight.”

He grinned, crossed the room and opened the drapes, and indeed, the moonlight cast him in perfect silhouette. Then he opened the doors and let the sounds and scents of the Gulf in, and Babette smiled, then reached for him. “Now, everything’s perfect, except you’re still wearing your clothes.”

Another incredible smile spread across his face, and he pulled his white T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Babette felt her desire stir. His abdomen had always been impressive, lines of powerful muscles leading the way to—his pants and underwear hit the floor—and Babette’s attention left his abs to focus on that part of him that would join them completely.

“
You’re
beautiful,” she said, and he was. Hard and bold and male and as perfect as anything she’d ever seen. Perfect . . . for her.