But still...this was Scotty Matthews.
She’d never been in such a dizzy whirl about a man.
Sapphie became uncomfortably aware of the silence. Scotty hadn’t responded to her offer. He hadn’t even blinked. The way he was looking at her made her nervous.
Had she misunderstood the signals? No. He wanted her. He’d been as turned on as she had. She’d felt his erection pressing against her. The slight tremble in his heated touch. Tasted the passion in his kiss.
Maybe a kiss was as far as he’d wanted to go. Was it too soon after his divorce?
“Won’t we be missed?” His gravelly words cut through the maelstrom of her thoughts.
“Possibly.” Her uncertainty made it sound like a question.
He cleared his throat. “You’re Issy’s bridesmaid.”
Did that mean he wanted to leave with her or not? His even tone gave her no clues.
If she were at work, she’d cut to the chase. “What do you want to do?”
“I’ll be honest—this is something different for me.” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Being with someone new. Wanting to be with that person. I’m out of touch with dating etiquette, if I ever knew what it was. I married my high-school sweetheart.”
His apprehension touched her and calmed her jumbled thoughts. He was so strong and steady and solid she hadn’t appreciated that ending his longtime marriage would affect him at such a basic level. She was amazed he hadn’t turned tail and fled at her offer.
She zeroed in on the key phrase in his admission. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; he did but didn’t know how to go about it.
“As I see it, we have several possible courses of action. One, we go back to the reception and wait for people to start leaving before disappearing upstairs. That way no one will notice our exit. Two—” she enumerated the options on her fingers “—we go inside, say our goodbyes and skip out. Three, we assume everyone has their mind on other things than what we’re up to and skip going back altogether.”
Scotty frowned, seeming to give it serious thought.
“Would it bother you if we’re seen leaving together?” she asked gently.
He shrugged. “We’re both unattached adults. What about you?”
“Doesn’t worry me at all.”
“I don’t want to go to the party and waste time with other people that could be spent alone with you.”
His slow smile made her stomach drop. “I like the way you think. Very much.”
“Decision made. Let’s go.” He knelt and picked up one of her shoes. He held out the pump.
Delighted by his chivalry, Sapphie balanced herself with a hand on his shoulder, then lifted her foot so he could slip the shoe on. As she repeated the process with her other foot, she wondered how a simple act could make her long for him to trail those magical fingers higher, much higher, up her leg.
Low in her belly, muscles tightened. “Thank you,” she said huskily as she straightened.
“My pleasure.” He shoved his socks in his pocket, then reached for his wingtips and put them on, stuffing the half-tied laces down the side. Then he held out his hand.
They linked fingers and hurried toward the hotel.
Once inside the door, she steered them to the right. “If we go this way, we can avoid the ballroom. There are elevators at the end that go to the guest floors.”
Though it wasn’t late, the corridor was deserted and the elevator came quickly. Unfortunately, the car didn’t stay empty as it rose to the first floor. People crowded in, pushing Sapphie and Scotty to the back corner. They moved closer together as more people tried to squeeze into the already-packed car, until Scotty put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side.
The man was a gentleman. Although the way he caressed her shoulder with one fingertip did wicked things to her insides.
She slipped her arm around his waist under his jacket. Then she dipped her fingers between the belted waistband of his pants and started inching the shirt free so she could play with his bare skin.
“We’re still in public,” he murmured against her ear before nipping the lobe.
Sapphie covered her sigh with a cough. “Damn it.”
They didn’t move apart as the elevator made its way upward and gradually emptied. The journey seemed to go quickly and yet too slowly. Anticipation filled Sapphie as the top floor was announced and the doors swished open.
Scotty’s grip on her shoulder tightened fractionally before he released her. They walked side by side along the plush carpeting without speaking.
Sapphie was unusually nervous. She sensed if she said the wrong thing, she might spook Scotty, even though he’d made it clear that he was as desperate as she was to get behind the closed door and finally be able to explore this crazy attraction between them in private.
Outside her room, she pulled her key card out of her little blue clutch and held it against the lock until it clicked. As she stepped into the dimly lit room, her nerves vanished.
She was in her domain. Somehow that gave her the feeling of control that she’d been lacking since she’d stepped onto the dance floor with Scotty. She took out her phone and, ignoring the texts and missed calls, switched it to silent, then put it and her clutch on the desk.
Turning to face Scotty, she found him standing in front of her. He’d discarded his jacket—hanging it over a chair—and removed his cuff links, so his sleeves hung open, revealing muscled forearms. There was something incredibly sexy about this man, slightly disheveled in his formal wear.
He trailed a finger along her shoulder, over the ridge of her collarbone, to the hollow at the base of her neck. There, he let his fingertip rest momentarily against her skittering pulse before heading unerringly downward to the valley between her breasts. Then he hooked the neckline of her dress and drew her toward him.
She lifted her arms to his shoulders, then wound them around his neck. His arms pulled her against his body so they were plastered together from chest to toe.
Their mouths met, hot and urgent. The time for playing and flirting and teasing was done.
And there were too many clothes. Sapphie wanted to feel him skin to skin.
She went to work on his shirt, tugging it out of his pants before quickly undoing his buttons. Her palms tingled as she slid them over the hard planes of his chest to his shoulders so she could remove the shirt. She then tossed it behind her and focused on exploring his chest more fully.
Scotty kept himself in great shape even though he was no longer playing. Smooth, tanned skin, with a sprinkling of crisp dark hair, covered well-defined muscles. Not an ounce of fat on his impressive six-pack. In fact, the only thing marring his upper body was a long-healed white scar across the line of his collarbone, where he’d had surgery to repair a broken clavicle early in his playing career.
Sapphie put her lips to the scar, then kissed her way along it to the middle of his chest, then headed down to his flat stomach. As her fingers busied themselves with his belt buckle, her tongue traced the ridges of that six-pack, taking a roundabout path to his belly button. And lower still.
Scotty moaned, then tunneled his fingers through her hair, halting her progress. “My turn. Please.”
“Always the gentleman.” She pressed an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin just above his