She stepped past him and dug into a carton of books, deliberately keeping her back to him. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was spinning with a wild blend of nerves and anticipation. Pulling out a few of the books, she set them on the top shelf and let her fingertips linger on the bindings.
But Simon didn’t leave. Instead, he went down on one knee beside her, cupped her chin and turned her face toward him.
“I don’t know what’s going on between us any more than you do. But you can’t avoid me forever, Tula. We’re living together, after all.”
“We’re living in the same house, that’s all,” she corrected breathlessly. “Not together.”
“Semantics,” he mused, a half smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
Oh, she knew what he was thinking because she was thinking the same thing. Well, actually, there was very little thinking going on. This was more feeling. Wanting. Needing.
She shook her head. “Simon, you know it would be a bad idea.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “A kiss?”
“You’re not talking about just a kiss.”
“Rather not talk at all,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
Tula licked her lips and took a breath that caught in her lungs when she saw his eyes flash. “Simon …”
“You started this,” he said, leaning in.
“I know,” she answered and tipped her head to one side as she moved to meet him.
“I’ll finish it.”
“Stop talking,” she told him just before his mouth closed over hers.
Heat exploded between them.
Tula had never known anything like it before. His mouth took hers hungrily, his tongue parting her lips, sweeping inside to claim all of her. He pulled her tightly against him until they were both kneeling on the soft, plush carpet. His hands slid up and down her back, dipping to cup the curve of her behind and pull her more tightly against him.
Tula felt the rock-hard proof of just how much Simon wanted her and that need echoed inside her. Her mind blanked out and she gave herself up to the river of sensations he was causing. She tangled her tongue with his, leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on as if she were afraid of sliding off the edge of the world.
He tore his mouth from hers, buried his face in the curve of her neck and whispered, “I’ve been thinking about doing this, about you, ever since you first walked into my office.”
“Me, too,” she murmured, tipping her head to give him better access. Her body was electrified. Every cell was buzzing, and at the core of her she burned and ached for him.
He dropped his hands to the hem of her sweater and slid his palms beneath the heavy knit material to slide across her skin. She felt the burn of his fingers, the sizzle and pop in her bloodstream as he stoked flames already burning too brightly.
Oh, it had been way too long since anyone had touched her, Tula thought, letting her head fall back on a soft sigh. And she’d never been touched like this before.
“Let me,” he murmured, drawing her sweater up and off, baring breasts hidden beneath a bra of sheer, pink lace.
Cool air caressed her skin in a counterpoint to the heat Simon was creating. One corner of her mind was shrieking at her to stop this while she still could. But the rest of her was telling that small, insistent voice to shut up and go away.
“Lovely,” he said, skimming the backs of his fingers across her nipples.
She shivered when his thumbs moved over the tips of her hardened nipples, the brush of the lace intensifying his touch to an almost excruciating level of excitement. Tula trembled as he unhooked the front clasp of her bra and sucked in a quick breath when he pushed the lacy panel aside and cupped her breasts in his hands.
He bent his head to take first one nipple and then the other into his mouth and Tula swayed in place. Threading her fingers through his thick hair, she held him to her and concentrated solely on the feel of his lips and tongue against her skin.
She wanted him naked, her hands on his body. She wanted to lie back and pull him atop her. She wanted to feel their bodies sliding together, to look up into his eyes as he took her to—
An insistent howl shattered the spell between them.
Simon pulled back from her and whipped his head around to stare at the doorway. “What was that?”
“The baby.” Still trembling, Tula grabbed the edges of her bra and hooked it together. Then she reached for her sweater and had it back on in a couple of seconds. “I’ve got the baby monitor in here so I could hear him while I worked.”
She waved one hand at what looked like a space-age communication device and Simon nodded. “Right. The monitor.”
Scrambling to her feet, Tula backed away from him quickly.
“Don’t do that,” Simon said, standing up and reaching for her. “I can see in your eyes that you’re already pretending that didn’t happen.”
“No, I’m not,” she assured him, though her voice was as shaky as the rest of her. Pushing one hand through the short, choppy layers of her hair, she blew out a breath and admitted, “But I should.”
“Why?” He winced when the baby’s cries continued, but didn’t let go of her.
Tula shook her head and pulled free of his grasp. “Because this is just one more complication, Simon. One neither one of us should want.”
“Yeah,” he said, gaze meeting hers. “But we do.”
“You can’t always have what you want,” she countered, taking a step back, closer to the open doorway. “Now I really have to go to the baby.”
“Okay. But Tula,” he said, stopping her as she started to leave. “You should know that I always get what I want.”
When Tula carried Nathan into her office half an hour later, she found a stack of colored file folders lying on top of her desk. There was a brief note. “Chaos can be controlled. S.”
“As if I didn’t know who put them there,” she told the baby. “He had to put his initial on the note?”
She set the baby down on a blanket surrounded by toys, then took a seat at her desk. Her fingertips tapped against the file folders until she finally shrugged and opened one.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try a little filing, right?”
Nathan didn’t have an opinion. He was far too fascinated by the foam truck with bright red headlights he had gripped in his tiny fists.
Tula smiled at him, then set to work straightening up her desk. It went faster than she would have thought and though she hated to admit it, there was something satisfying about filing papers neatly and tucking them away in a cabinet. By the time she was finished, her desktop was cleared off for the first time in … ever.
Her phone rang just as she was getting up to take the baby downstairs for his dinner. “Hello?”
“Tula, hi, this is Tracy.”
Her editor’s voice was, as always, friendly and businesslike. “Hi, what’s up?”
“I just need you to give me the front matter for the next book. Production needs it by tomorrow.”
“Right.” For one awful moment, Tula couldn’t remember where she’d put the letter to her readers that always went in the front of her new books. She liked adding that