The Case For Temptation. Robyn Grady
and slow-kissing her lips.
As he caught her thigh and wrapped her leg around the back of his, she gripped his neck and surrendered it all. And when his thrusts grew faster—when the friction turned white-hot—she squeezed him tighter, bit her lip harder, and came apart like she’d known she would.
Like she never had before.
The smell of fresh coffee woke her.
Blinking open sleepy eyes, Teagan remembered she wasn’t in her own room. The bed looked like a tornado had torn through. Shoes and clothes were strewn all over the place. Jacob Stone was gone from the bed, but his musky scent, and the memories, were everywhere.
Burrowing back into the bedclothes, she circled her head with her arms. What an amazing night! The most intense, and beautiful, of her life. From the instant they’d met, those dark, dreamy looks had grabbed her. Accompanying him from the wedding reception to this suite...
Well, it was always going to end this way—with them twined up together, naked in bed. The decision might have been impulsive, but the reality of making love with Jacob Stone had proved to be more than spur of the moment. It was breathtaking, liberating, and she would do it all again in a heartbeat.
Grinning, Teagan caught her lower lip between her teeth.
Exactly how long was it before her flight?
Getting to her feet, she picked up on the aroma of pancakes and was suddenly so hungry, needing to refuel. But if Jacob walked through those bedroom doors this minute, she would happily snack on him instead. This was—he was—the wake-up call she’d needed.
She’d always prided herself on being strong. Resilient. Then a few months ago she’d suffered a miscarriage, and a relationship she had valued died, too. Now, heading for the attached bath, she felt relief. She could finally look back on that time as a hard lesson learned.
Years after the childhood accident that had left that scar, she’d been told she would likely never conceive. Following her recent loss, however, that prognosis had been modified. Should she become pregnant again, the probability of an early first-trimester spontaneous abortion was high, which had made her feel even worse.
But this time spent with Jacob had helped her turn a corner. She would always remember the pain—physical, mental and emotional—but she had grieved long enough. She could still live a meaningful and happy life.
Just not the one she would have chosen if she’d had any say.
Jacob heard the shower shut off and waited for Teagan to stroll into the main room. When she did, she was wrapped in an oversize hotel robe, long, damp hair free of salon curls and her beautiful face scrubbed squeaky clean. She took him in, too, in his gray T-shirt and weekend drawstring pants, before studying the room service feast he’d ordered up.
She laughed. “Well, someone’s hungry.”
His gaze lowered to her mouth. “Always.”
They each moved forward until he was close enough to repeat the scene that had gotten things started last night. After sliding a hand around the back of her neck, with great purpose and pleasure, he tasted those sweet lips again.
But this kiss was different. Because it would be one of their last? Or the start of something more? Something new?
He gradually broke the kiss but didn’t step away. Being this close again, he felt recharged. Ready for anything, including finding more time to please this woman in every conceivable way.
But first...
“We need coffee.” He reached for the silver service pot. “At least I do.”
As he poured two cups, she held up a hand. “No sugar for me.”
He handed Teagan’s cup over then dropped two lumps into his own, as well as an inch of cream. Chugging back a mouthful, he pulled out a seat for her before grabbing a strip of crispy bacon.
Let the feast begin!
After pulling in her chair, Teagan inspected a glass-covered dish. “Is that steak?”
“Filet mignon. Goes great with hollandaise.”
There was grilled tomato, smashed avocado, sautéed mushrooms, a pile of golden hash browns and more. It smelled so darn good. But she only reached for the muesli container and shook a modest helping into a bowl. Tacking his smile back on, Jacob helped himself to the smorgasbord. This morning, he could eat enough for two.
Earlier, he’d laid her gown over the back of a couch. She caught sight of it now before eyeing the door to the suite.
“This’ll be interesting.” She set down the container. “My first walk of shame.”
“If anyone can get away with wearing that evening gown this time of day, it’s you.”
She was busy searching the room-service spread again. Really looking this time, like she couldn’t find what she wanted. Impossible.
He put his fork down. “Are we missing something?”
“Plant-based milk?”
“Like soy?”
“Or almond.”
He got to his feet. “I’ll order some up.”
Waving him off, she reached for the pancakes. “This is even better.”
No trouble, but he wouldn’t push. If she was happy, so was he. And after breakfast, before they thought about jetting back to ordinary life, there might be time enough to revisit what they had discovered in each other the night before. Frankly, he wanted to slip the robe off her shoulders, taste every inch of that incredible body, and then do it all over again.
She was looking at his plate. He looked down, too. Ha. He’d forgotten all about the food.
As he pushed a loaded fork into his mouth and Teagan poured syrup over a pancake, she said, “I suppose you need to check out soon and get back.”
He chewed and swallowed while pouring them juice. “My flight’s not till one.”
“Mine’s around that time, too.”
“You need a lift to the airport?”
“No, no. I just don’t want to hold you up.”
“I’m in no hurry.” Watching how she was downing that juice, he asked, “Are you?”
She set down her empty glass. “It’s Sunday.”
Right. “The weekend. Time to relax. Forget about work.”
Although tomorrow would be a day and a half. He had depositions to sort, background notes, too. There was an afternoon meeting scheduled with that defamation client—former Londoner, Grant Howcroft. Hunter Publications was in for a very public kick in the corporate pants. Making up tales might sell magazines but—moral of the story, boys—dishonesty does not pay.
“It must be full-on being a big-name lawyer,” Teagan said as she cut into her syrup-soaked pancake.
Was he looking preoccupied?
“It can get busy,” he said, loading his fork again.
“Even on weekends?”
Remembering how her legs had dug into the back of his thighs as she’d bucked up against him, Jacob gave her his word. “Not this weekend.”
“Are you sure?”
He wanted to laugh. “Absolutely.”
“It’s just...