He parted his lips, deepening the kiss. His free arm slid around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest, while his tongue tested the seam of her lips.
She opened for him, and he invaded, spreading new waves of desire throughout her body. She whimpered, grasping his broad shoulders through his jacket for support while her world tipped on its axis.
He finally broke the kiss, touching his forehead gently against hers. “I noticed,” he breathed.
With her brain struggling to grasp the enormity of what had just happened, “Oh,” was all she managed.
He let her go, leaning back in his seat, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s, uh …” She straightened her dress again, sitting back in her own seat. “Fine,” she ended.
It was more than fine. It had been amazing.
He’d noticed. He’d noticed. And he’d kissed her.
Wow, had he ever kissed her. She’d never been kissed like that in her life.
Mitch let off the emergency brake and put the Corvette in gear.
He pulled onto the gravel road and continued toward Jenny’s small house beside Frost Lake.
She hadn’t the first idea of what to say or do.
Mitch pulled his Corvette into Jenny’s short driveway, his brain a jumble of lust and recrimination as he automatically turned off the headlights and killed the engine. He pushed open his door and rounded the hood to open hers.
In the ten minutes since he’d kissed her, neither of them had said a word. But inside his head, he’d given himself about a dozen stern lectures. What the hell did he think he was doing? Jenny was a nice girl, a great girl, a wonderful girl, and she worked for him.
She wasn’t one of the sophisticated women he met at parties in New York and L.A., who wanted nothing more than a famous football player as a companion for the evening or the night. She was honest, uncomplicated, and he was a cad for giving in to his baser instincts.
He pulled open her door, forcing himself to concentrate on the treetops, the full moon hanging on the horizon and the darkened outline of her little house—anything, anything but looking at Jenny again.
He knew he should get the heck out of here without delay, but her porch light was out, and the gentleman in him wouldn’t send her up the uneven pathway and the dark stairs on her own. He offered his arm, ignoring her light touch, looking straight ahead as they made their way along the stepping stones in her front garden.
They walked up the stairs and across the porch, then she stopped and turned toward him.
“I’m—” she began, and he made the mistake of meeting her gaze.
Her eyes were opaque jade in the faint moonlight, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. Her hair was disheveled, her cleavage highlighted by the sexy dress and those legs went on forever, ending in those fantasy shoes that somehow hijacked his primal brain. He groaned in instant surrender and swooped in for another kiss.
She tipped her head to accommodate him, soft lips parting, tongue answering his own, even as her slim arms wound around his neck. He wrapped his own arms around her narrow waist and pulled her against him once more, those luscious breasts flush to his chest. Her mouth was hot on his, her thighs taut, the feel of them hardening his body beyond imagination. He stroked a hand over her messy hair, releasing the clip that held it back, so that it tumbled free.
He kissed her temple, her ear, her neck, making his way along her bare shoulder.
“Mitch,” she gasped, her breath hot puffs against his chest.
He drew back, looking into her soft green eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, and her shiny strawberry blond hair framed her face like a halo.
Walk away, he ordered himself. Walk the hell away.
But she pressed a key into his palm.
On automatic pilot, he unlatched the door, pushing it wide. He scooped her into his arms and carried her inside, slamming the door firmly behind them and making his way straight down the back hallway to her bedroom.
There, he lowered her gently to her feet.
“Jenny,” he breathed, reminding himself of who this was, trying one more time to convince himself to do the right thing.
But she came up on her toes and kissed him passionately, and he’d spent far too many years being self-indulgent to summon self-discipline now. His hand moved reflexively to her breast, grasping the soft mound beneath the silky dress. She parted his suit jacket, her small hands sliding around his back, their heat searing through the thin cotton of his shirt.
He shrugged out of the jacket, and it fell to the floor. One of his thighs pressed between hers, easing her dress out of the way. She gasped, as the fabric of his slacks obviously hit home. Her hands fumbled with his tie, and he gave into temptation, slipping the single shoulder of the dress down her arm.
Their movements grew faster, more frantic.
She popped the buttons of his shirt, while he found the zipper at the back of her dress. In seconds, they were chest to chest, skin to skin, and he pressed long, deep, fiery kisses on her mouth.
Her dress slipped to the floor. Her scant panties combined with those shoes nearly sent him over the edge. He stripped off the remainder of his clothes and eased her down on the big bed, into the neatly pressed quilt and the plump, perfect pillows.
She was all motion beneath him, heat, softness, kisses and breathy cries. Her fingernails dug into his back, while he kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, kneading his hands along her thighs, up and around. Impatiently, he tore off her panties. She gasped, then moaned and arched against his fingers.
He kissed her hard and deep, strumming her nipples. Her hands roamed his body. He shifted over her, and her legs wrapped around him, her hips arched against his weight in an invitation he couldn’t ignore.
He grabbed for his slacks, quickly retrieving a condom before instinct obliterated reason. He thrust into her exquisite heat, his primal brain telling him to make it last and last and last. Pillows flew to the floor. The bed rocked on its brass foundation, while the stars through her bedroom window melted and slid from the sky.
She cried his name just as his own passion crested. His breathing went hoarse, and long minutes throbbed past before sanity returned. Exhausted, he rolled to his side, taking him with her, pulling her deep into his arms.
Once again, words eluded him. He had absolutely no idea what to say to her. He wasn’t sorry. He didn’t regret it. But, oh boy, had he ever made a big mistake.
Instead of speaking, he cradled her against his body, held her close until she was safely asleep. Then he held her an hour longer. He knew he’d be facing the stupidity of his actions full-on in the morning, but he was in no hurry to get there.
It wasn’t until the moon was high in the sky, and Mitch knew he was in real danger of falling asleep right there next to Jenny, that he eased her from his arms and tucked the covers around her. He risked a gentle kiss at her hairline, before slipping into his clothes and leaving her sleeping.
Jenny wasn’t surprised to wake up alone in the morning. Since the wedding had taken place on the holiday Monday, her alarm went off as usual for the workday on Tuesday. She had a few unfamiliar aches and pains in the shower, but she didn’t mind. Mitch had noticed her. Boy, had he noticed her.
She was a little embarrassed about tumbling into bed with him so quickly. But it wasn’t as though they were strangers. They were both adults, and he’d spent years living in big cities and moving in sophisticated social circles. She knew it was an entirely different dating world out there.
She dressed neatly and professionally for the office, her glasses back in place, and took a cab to the TCC. She’d call the auto club and get a boost