You. The word repeated itself over and over in her head as she gripped his shoulders and felt those tensed, hard muscles. Greed erupted in her. She wanted to touch more of him. She wanted to run her fingers through that dark hair. She wanted to press her palms against his chest, his back, his waist. And she wanted his clothes out of the way.
With a moan, she moved her hands to the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
RYDER FELT as if he were going under for the last time. Worse, he felt as if this time he’d be sucked into a riptide that would drag him places he’d never been before.
Oh, he’d experienced the sparks from the moment that he’d touched her. Those he’d been familiar enough with. And he’d known that he was skilled enough to fan them into a flame. That had been his plan. He would coax until she offered and then take a real taste of her.
But she wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Her mouth wasn’t soft and warm as he’d expected. Instead, it was hot and avid and as demanding as his own. She was so alive. So responsive. He felt the beat of her pulse against his fingertips, the moan vibrating deep in her throat. And beneath the passion, he could sense innocence, too.
Greed—his, hers, or a combination—rocketed through his system, tearing at his control. This was a first for him. No woman had ever set off this fevered combination of sensations and needs.
Needs? Even as a little alarm bell went off in his mind, Ryder felt a flash of intuition—the kind he often got when he was working on a case. This woman could have the power to shake up a life he was perfectly satisfied with. That uncomfortable possibility, along with the fact that they were kneeling on the floor of a very public place, had him grasping the reins of his control and pulling tight.
Slowly, he set her from him. Her eyes were huge and that blue color had turned smoky. Her hair had tumbled to her shoulders, and she looked every bit as stunned as he felt.
“Are you all right?” His voice was ragged, and when he drew in a deep breath, his lungs burned. He’d forgotten to breathe. Another first. Just who was this woman that she could do this to him?
It had been years since he’d allowed himself to need anyone or anything. No one could be depended on. He’d learned that lesson the hard way when his mother had walked out on him, and later, when his aunt had left him too. He was always careful to keep his relationships with women uncomplicated and mutually satisfying. This woman had complications written all over her.
Despite all that, he wanted to kiss her again. He was going to have to give that some thought.
When she closed her eyes, and sagged, he felt a sprint of fear. That was a first too. How could he feel such a concern for a woman he didn’t even know?
“Are you all right?” he repeated as he tightened his grip on her.
NO, SHE WASN’T all right. And she wasn’t feeling like herself at all. Clenching her fists, Sierra stiffened her spine, and wished for her inhaler. If she’d had any strength in her limbs, she might have tried to find it. Instead, on a count of ten, she drew in a breath and let it out.
“Fine. I’m fine.” She would be in a minute. What had she been thinking? She’d kissed him. She’d let him kiss her back. And there was something, someone, inside her who wanted very much to repeat the experience.
She drew in another breath and pushed down the little ripples of panic that threatened to turn into huge waves. The problem was she hadn’t been thinking at all when he was kissing her. For those few moments, she’d felt so extraordinary, so…wild, and so incredibly wanton. It was as if she were a totally different woman. She took yet another breath.
“Here,” he said, pushing something into the hand he’d been holding. “Do you need this? Or this?”
Once he released her hand, her brain started to clear. Sierra glanced down to see that he was offering her inhaler and the prescription pills she carried with her at all times. Reality check. This was the old Sierra Gibbs, she thought, a woman who suffered from asthma and migraines. That Sierra wasn’t a woman who kissed strangers in bars. So who was the woman who had kissed this man?
It was a new question and her desire to find the answer to it had her fighting off another onslaught of panic. She used her inhaler. Then feeling a bit steadier, she said, “Thanks.” Steeling herself, she met his eyes.
Concern was all she saw. There was nothing of the desire she’d seen earlier. Sierra swallowed her disappointment. All of her life she’d managed to bring out the protective streak in men. Even Bradley Winthrop, the man she was currently seeing, treated her as if he were her caretaker.
Wasn’t that one of the reasons that she’d come up with her five-step plan? She didn’t want to be the baby who was taken care of anymore. And she wanted to be a take-charge woman in the bedroom as well as out. In short, she wanted to be the woman she’d just been in this man’s arms.
She’d do well to remember that she had a five-step plan. But while she was gazing into his eyes, it was difficult to remember the steps. His eyes were as gray as smoke, the kind that could swallow you up in a heartbeat. For the first time in her life, the thought of losing herself that way sent a little thrill through her.
Oh, she was definitely not the same woman who’d walked into the bar a few minutes ago. But she wasn’t at all sure that she was ready to be the woman she’d felt bloom inside her during that kiss. She had to think…she…
“At least let me buy you a drink. You look as if you could use one. I know I could.”
“Yes. Okay.” The words were out before she remembered. “Oh no, I can’t. I forgot.” She tore her eyes from his and glanced around. How could she have forgotten her sisters, not to mention her father’s letter?
“You have a date?”
“Yes.” She grabbed her canvas bag and stuffed the pills and the inhaler into it. “Sort of.” Spotting her day planner under a stool, she reached for it, but he was quicker.
“Sierra Gibbs, Ph.D.” He read the name off the card that had slipped out of the plastic slot on the cover. “What’s the Ph.D. in?”
“Psychology and Sociology.” She glanced around, but didn’t spot the letter from her father.
“Two Ph.D.’s. I’m impressed, Doc. And you’re a shrink?”
In spite of the interest in his voice, she kept her eyes averted. “Not in the way you probably mean. I don’t have a private practice or anything like that.”
“No couch?”
“No. Only psychiatrists use those.” He was smiling, she was sure of it, but she didn’t dare risk another look at his mouth. She wouldn’t be able to think if she did. “I teach at Georgetown in the graduate school. Mostly, I do research and write. I just finished a book.” She was babbling. And no wonder. Her lips were still vibrating from that kiss.
In spite of her resolve, she found herself looking at his mouth again. Immediately, curiosity began to war with common sense. If she just had the courage to lean forward and close the distance, would she experience that same whirl of sensations again? The thought slipped into her mind so easily, as if the man who’d just kissed her was simply some experiment that she wanted to run through again.
But he wasn’t a lab experiment, and she should really get a grip. Her sisters would be waiting for her, she reminded herself. She was never late for an appointment. And she had her father’s letter to read.
Scrambling reluctantly to her feet, she said, “I really have to go.”
She made it halfway to the stairs that led to the upper dining level when she remembered the letter. With a flutter of panic, she whirled