Sean. Donna Kauffman
who spent most of her time in a shapeless black robe, dealing with men who mostly just waited for her to make the slightest hedge in passing judgment, to give them the slightest indication of a weak spot.
Well, Sean Gannon had only been in her company for less than an hour or two…and he’d found just about every weak spot she had. Certainly the sweetest ones anyway.
When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, they stayed where they were, all but mesmerized by one another. For how long, she couldn’t have said. But not too many seconds later yet another bell sounded, indicating the last water taxi had not only left, but they’d been tangled up in each other for so long, another one had arrived.
“About this resort,” Sean murmured. “Do you really think—”
Laurel smiled, judgment decided upon, ruling made. She would never have another opportunity like this one. Besides, she’d already asked herself the crucial question: would she regret it if she didn’t?
And didn’t she already have enough regrets in her life?
“I’m thinking that if a judge and a U.S. Marshal can’t figure out a way to get you on that island—” she began, but he stopped her.
“Actually, I was going to ask if you’d be willing to skip the shower and change.” He looked directly into her eyes in that way he had, and her fingers dug into his chest of their own volition. “Because the clothes don’t matter. And we’re just going to get sweaty all over again.”
Her pulse shot up like a skyrocket. And the muscles between her legs clenched almost painfully in response. “Are we now?” she asked, unsure why she was continuing to provoke him. Except to find out what would happen when she pushed him too far.
He slid his hand up from her neck and slowly pulled the soft band from her ponytail. Her hair dropped down to her shoulders in a wavy bob, which he pushed away from her face with surprisingly gentle fingers.
“Aren’t we?”
She knew what he was asking, just as she knew he already knew the answer. But she liked that he wanted them both to state their intentions. “I believe we are, yes.”
He skimmed his fingers along her jaw, then rubbed the tip of one across her lips. “Well then, I think we should ditch this little scooter and go find someplace to have a nice, quiet dinner.”
She was already nodding, assuming what he’d been about to say. It took a second or two for his words to register. “What? Dinner?” She’d already been mentally undressing them both and—
Now the wolf smile came out in full. “It’s a long night.”
Dinner as foreplay. The idea should have made her impatient. She was ready now, dammit. And it should have made her a bit worried. Worried that with too much time, she’d talk herself out of what she’d just finished talking herself into. Only the idea of getting to know him better intrigued her just about as much as the idea of letting him put those hands, and that mouth, on her.
“Yes,” she finally responded. “It certainly is.” And yet Laurel was pretty damn sure it was all going to go by way too fast. Maybe he had the right idea, after all. Savor each moment. Drag it out. Make it last.
Because when it was over…it was over.
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