Page 170 of Positively Pricked

Chapter 56

Together, we practically fell through the door to his suite. Already, I was desperate for him – wet and ready, even though all we'd done was kiss.

In the back of my mind, I still couldn’t believe that I was doing this. And yet, I knew thatnotdoing this was too impossible to consider.

I was in his arms, and his lips were on mine. The door swung shut behind us, and I gave a shiver of anticipation.

Zane pulled back to ask, "Are you cold? Want me to turn on the heat, or—"

A nervous giggle escaped my lips. "Actually, I'm pretty hot already."

He pulled farther back and gave me a long, appreciative look. "Got that right."

Hehadto be kidding. Belatedly, it occurred to me that I was still wearing the same clothes that I'd worn all day around the city. Probably, I should've changed, but at the time, I'd been in such a hurry to be with him that I hadn't even thought of it.

I glanced down at my wrinkled shirt and shorts. "I probably should've gotten freshened up, huh?"

But Zane was already shaking his head. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Perfect? Now, Iknowyou're joking."

"No joke," he said, looking surprisingly sincere.

I had to laugh. "Oh come on. Are you seriously telling me that Idon'tlook like I need a shower and fresh clothes?"

He gave me a slow, secret smile. "Hey, I've got a shower."

Yes. He did.Actually, he probably had more than one, with multiple shower heads and everything. But that wasn't the thing that set my pulse jumping.

It was the look in his eye. It was a look that told me I wouldn’t need to shower alone, not unless I wanted to.

And I definitelydidn'twant to.

Almost in a trance, I felt myself nod. To what, I wasn't even sure.The shower? Him? Both?

"And," he said, "who says you need clothes?"

I heard myself whisper, "Not me."

In spite of my best intentions, we never did make it to the shower.

In fact, we barely made it to the bed. It all happened so suddenly. One moment, we were standing there, like two regular people, with a decent amount of self-control.

And then, I reached for his shirt. And he reached for the buttons on mine. I tugged his shirt upward and savored the sight of his rock-hard abs with all their valleys and ridges.

Suddenly, I was desperate to see more. I moved my hands higher, taking more of his shirt with me as I went. Soon, it was over his head, and then, tossed onto the floor, giving me a nice close view of his upper torso.

Oh. My. God.

I felt my lips part, and my breath catch. I might've looked longer, except soon, something even more compelling claimed my attention. It was his lips on mine and his arms pulling me close.

His lips were full and oh-so sweet as they moved against mine, teasing and promising, just like the telltale hardness I could feel pressing against me through his jeans.

I wanted him like I'd never wanted anything else in my whole life. And if he were any other guy, I might've believed that he felt exactly the same way.

But like so many other things, that was too ridiculous for words, so I didn't dwell on it or let it consume me, even as he kissed and caressed me all the way to the bedroom, removing clothing as we went – a shirt here, shorts there, his jeans along the way, and socks who-knows-where.

Almost before I knew it, we'd tumbled onto the king-size bed, with me in my bra and panties, and him only in his briefs.