Sweet Seduction
Guys like him.
On the other hand...
Dammit. He fought the urge to back her against the wall, flip up her skirt, tear off those panties and take her, right here, right now.
Hard.
Jesus. It was insane.
“Do I have sauce on my face?”
“What?” Jamie asked.
“You keep staring at me. Am I covered in sauce?” She wiped her mouth. “God, this is so good.”
“No. You’re fine.” He hoped she didn’t hear his groan. The woman was better than fine. She was—Daisy licked her lips, her tongue sweeping over the plump, pink surface of her mouth, leaving nothing but a damp sheen behind—evil, that was what she was. Licking her lips like that? Pure evil.
It took every ounce of control not to grab her chin, pull her face close and taste those lips for himself.
Claim them.
She leaned toward him wearing a frown. What the hell was she doing?
“Actually, you’ve got a little bit—” she wet her napkin with that dangerously evil tongue of hers and reached for him “—right there.” She wiped his nose. “Got it.”
The woman had just given him a spit bath and had somehow made it sexy. With her so close—oh God, he could smell her, delicious and sweet, so incredibly sweet—Jamie lost it. His hand went to the back of her head, threading through the dark curls that had fallen loose during the ride to the restaurant. He tilted her the way he wanted her and kissed her, surprising her so that her mouth parted in shock, giving him free access to her luscious warmth.
Daisy tasted better than he could have imagined. Sweet and salty, soft and wet. At first he thought she might push him away, so he held on more tightly because he wasn’t done. Not even close.
But she didn’t push him away.
Daisy went from pressing her palms flat against his chest to gripping his shoulders to finally twining her fingers around his neck, holding him just as firmly as he was holding her. If he’d been confused about the signals she had been sending, there was no confusion now. Her lips moved as enthusiastically as his. Her tongue danced willingly between their mouths, tangling indulgently with his. Beckoning him inside. A temptress he could not deny.
“All packed now and ready to go. No problem. You pay me tomorrow, okay?” Rosa’s cheerful grin was hard to focus on because Jamie’s eyes were still glazed over from the kiss.
Was it a kiss? Jamie wasn’t sure because it felt more like their mouths had just had hot, sweaty sex.
“Wow.” Daisy sat back, touching her lips, her eyes wide in disbelief.
She felt it, too? God. Jamie stood, holding out his hand for Daisy to take. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, looking dazed.
“Home.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And, Daisy?”
“Yes?”
He draped his jacket around her, loving the way it hung from her feminine shoulders.
Mine.
“Between here and there, you need to decide if you want me to come up.”
“I do?”
“Yes.”
The cool Chicago evening greeted them when they walked out the door. Daisy paused beside the bike, looking up at him with an intoxicating mixture of wonder and wantonness. “What will happen if you come up?”
He leaned down and kissed her softly, exhibiting way more control than he had any right to show. “Dessert.”
“Oh. Well, there’s lots of that. Pie, chocolate torte, lemon meringue. What would you like?”
“You.”
5
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE?
You...
The words played on a loop in Daisy’s brain for the duration of the fifteen-minute ride back to her place, intermixed with moments from THE KISS. That was how Daisy thought of it: in big, bold capital letters.
She had never, ever been kissed like that.
Oh, she’d been kissed. But that kiss? Sweet Hannah, that kiss had been something else.
It had felt primal, the way Jamie took hold of her, moving toward her with authority, sliding his mouth and tongue across her lips...past her lips. The man had owned her mouth, and while at first she’d been shocked, she’d soon allowed it.
Encouraged it.
Craved it.
Now he was asking if she wanted more, and apparently a crowd of tiny beings had set up shop between her ears, because they were singing a chorus of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” in three-part harmony.
By the time Jamie pulled the bike up in front of Nana Sin’s, the combination of the ride—fast and impatient—and the memory of the kiss—slow and sexy—had left Daisy’s whole body throbbing. Boom, boom, boom, as though her heart was a bass speaker at a rock concert.
She was about to have sex. With Jamie Forsythe.
What?
She barely knew him. Not that she hadn’t imagined it many times before the whole Colin/Jamie thing, but...
Don’t overthink it, Daise. You’re hot for him. He’s hot for you. Now go upstairs and get some.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” piped up the people in her brain.
“Quiet,” Daisy whispered. She needed to think without the voices in her head distracting her.
“What did you say?” Jamie asked as he dismounted.
“Nothing.”
Instead of giving Daisy his hand, he leaned close, wrapped his strong hands around her waist and lifted her up and over the motorbike. As if she weighed nothing at all.
It was the sweetest, sexiest, most manly thing anyone had done for her.
Ever.
You don’t expect me to carry you across the threshold, do you? An uninvited memory of her ex-husband on their wedding night flashed inside Daisy’s head, and insecurity swept over her. Once the image faded, she found herself staring up into Jamie’s face. His eyes were dark with forbidden, seductive promises.
“You decided?”
She swallowed, or tried to, at least. “Can I think about it some more?”
He reached out to smooth her totally out of control hair. “If you have to think about it, the answer is no.” He kissed her softly and straddled the bike again, starting it up and revving the engine.
No!
He released the kickstand.
“Wait.”
He turned. “What?”
Daisy shrugged out of the jacket she was wearing. “Your jacket.”
“Keep it.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Just until next time.”
Until next time.
Why did those words both thrill and sadden her?
Because she didn’t want next time. She wanted right now.
“Jamie?”
“Yes?”
She bit her lip. “I’m glad you and Colin are different people.”
He grinned. “You and me both.”
She sidled closer. “And I...I forgive you for posing as him.”
“Good,” he said, and Daisy focused on his lips—such nice lips—as he spoke. “But I’m not sorry I did it. Not one bit.”
She raised her gaze to his. “Me, neither,” she said softly, resting her hands on his shoulders.
When he spoke next, the words seemed to come out of his mouth in slow motion. “Can I see you Monday?”
“Monday?” The word emerged, a tangible thing that Daisy could have touched if she wanted to.
“Yes.” The single syllable seemed to stretch on forever.
Why was everything moving so slowly? Daisy leaned down. “Monday would be nice.” She slid her hand to his chest, needing to feel the rumble of his deep voice within. Needing—
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