“I do not,” he scoffed.
“You do too! You’re a wine faker,” she accused. “You just pick whatever you think sounds cool.”
His heart slowed and he reached for his water glass, tossing off her accusation with a shrug. He paraphrased a quote from the movie. “You wanna drink merlot, we’ll drink merlot.”
“Faker.”
He leaned forward with the sole intent of changing the subject. “You look beautiful,” he told her.
Her triumphant grin faltered. She fidgeted a little then the smile rekindled with genuine warmth. “Thank you.”
A pale pink flush stained her cheeks. Her aquamarine eyes sparkled with pleasure. Sitting back, he admired the simple black wrap dress she wore, taking care not to let his gaze linger too long on the creamy expanse of skin framed by the deep vee of the neckline. Instead, he fixed on the slender silver necklace studded with turquoise beads circling her throat. “They match your eyes.”
Her smile turned sheepish. She held the necklace away from her throat and glanced at it. “I thought...you know, a little color.”
“Perfect.”
She laughed and looked away, taking in the candlelit tables swathed in heavy white linens. “Fancy place, Mister Larson.”
“Beats burned lasagna and nuked pizza.”
She leaned in closer. “You could have had me for some baby back ribs.”
“Now you tell me.”
The wine steward appeared with their wine. Their conversation subsided while they watched the man perform his duties with solemn ceremony. Sara quirked one eyebrow when he took a small sip from the proffered glass and nodded his approval.
Once their glasses were filled and they were alone again, she leaned forward and whispered, “What would you have done if it was vinegar?”
Rolling his eyes, he grasped the crystal by the stem. “I’d drink a toast. To you,” he added, saluting her with the glass.
Sara laughed and murmured, “Such a charmer.” She took a sip. “Mmm.”
“Still think I’m a faker?”
She flashed a sassy smile. “Yes.”
He leaned forward, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. “Are you?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Me?” Sara chuckled dismissively. “Don’t you think you could tell?”
“Ever since you made me watch that Harry and Sally movie, I’ve had my doubts.”
A laugh bubbled from her lips, putting the hushed tinkle of china and crystal to shame. She clamped a hand to her mouth, and the color rose in her cheeks. He reached for her hand, pulling it from her lips and enveloping it in his. “Don’t hold back. You look beautiful.”
Her gaze dropped to the snowy white tablecloth. A tingle of affection warmed his heart when he saw the pink blush that tinged her skin fade from embarrassment to pleasure. “Steve...”
His fingers tightened around hers. “I hope to God you’re not a faker,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Nothing gives me more pleasure than pleasuring you.”
She gaped at him for a moment then clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head mutely. Relaxing his hold on her hand, he sat back, stretching his arm across the pristine tablecloth. “The dress is new?”
“I didn’t...You said to dress up.” She glanced down uncertainly. “Do you like it?”
“I think you know I do.” He was gratified to see her smile bloom, chasing away the uncertainty that lurked in her eyes.
“I picked it out just for you,” she said with a grin. “The only thing holding it together is this skinny, flimsy little belt.”
She ran the slim strip of fabric through her fingers, and he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting back the urge to haul her out of the restaurant. Suddenly, he decided he didn’t want her at ease. He wanted her nerves jumping like his.
Releasing her hand, he reached for his wine. Peering at her over the rim, his eyes locked on hers for a moment and traveled south in frank perusal. “Did you do what I asked?”
“What?”
He let his eyes wander slowly down the bodice of the dress then meander back up to her face. A surge of satisfaction pulsed in his veins when she grasped his meaning. The creamy skin exposed by the tantalizing neckline flushed, sparkling like an opal. Her nipples hardened, pressing against the thin fabric, and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting them.
“Did you do what I asked?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Steve’s smile turned rakish, and he relaxed against his chair, toasting her with the wine again. “That’s my girl.” His smile faded slightly as he peered into the glass, then downed half of its contents in one gulp.
Chapter Twelve
Disconcerting.
The word bounced around in her skull as they made their way to Steve’s apartment. Sara caught herself fidgeting and stole a peek at him from the corner of her eye. The man standing beside her in the tiny elevator car had been her best friend for over eight years, but at the moment he seemed a stranger. The whole evening had been...disconcerting.
One minute, they’d be laughing and lobbing the banter they’d perfected over nearly a decade of friendship across the table with practiced ease. The next, his eyes would lock on hers and suddenly she’d be stripped bare. She had never been the focus of that intense stare before. It had always been someone else. Now, she knew what a threat to Christendom her buddy had actually been.
The elevator chimed to signal their arrival, and he moved aside, holding the door back while she stepped into the corridor. The swish of his dark wool overcoat seemed unbearably loud. Her nerves jangled like the keys he pulled from his pocket. The scent of his aftershave, musky and familiar, soothed her senses. He swung open the door to his loft and placed his hand in the small of her back, propelling her forward.
A nervous laugh escaped when she peered about the foyer curiously. “Wow, I guess I haven’t been here for a while.”
“Hasn’t changed much.”
He tossed his keys onto a small table and took her coat, hanging it next to his in the tiny closet. He shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. “Do you want something to drink?”
The wine they had consumed at dinner hummed in her veins. Her brain felt fuzzy, her thoughts muddled.
Disconcerted.
“I think I’m okay,” she replied, reassuring herself and declining his offer in one brief statement. She wandered into the living room. Her fingertips grazed the back of the sofa. She nodded to a carved wooden box on the end table. “Is that new?”
“Oh. No, not really. It was my mom’s.”
“Ah.”
Sara glanced over her shoulder to find him hovering just behind her. She moved to the safety of bookshelves bracketing the oversized television and studied the titles stamped on the spines.
“Anything? Water?” Steve asked.
Allowing a nervous little laugh she said, “Water would be good.” She followed him to the kitchen where he pulled two bottles from the refrigerator, uncapped one, and offered it to her.
“I got fancy here too…None of that tacky tap water. Only the good stuff.”
Sara laughed, his lopsided grin putting her at ease once again. She inspected the tiny kitchen. “I can see that you don’t cook very much.”
“How do you know I’m not just very neat?”
She arched one eyebrow. “We’ve met before.”
His voice dropped. “Have we?”
The husky rumble blurred her thoughts. She tried to follow his movements, focusing so intently on his face that she jumped when his hand closed around her waist and pulled her closer. Her breathless laugh echoed off the walls, and he responded with a wolfish grin. “You were too far away.”
A tug at her waist captured her attention. Sara looked down to find his nimble fingers loosening the knot of her belt. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes when the panels of her dress swished open. Steve crooked one finger under her chin, tipping her head up with his knuckle.
His warm breath tickled her mouth. “Miss me, Sara?”
She licked her lips, trying to chase the tingle. “Yes.”
“Open your eyes.”
She did as he asked, staring back at him boldly. “Weren’t you going to kiss me?”
“Maybe.” His fingertips grazed her skin, tracing the neckline of the dress and trailing along the newly exposed skin between her breasts. “Probably. Did you think about me?”
Clamping her lips shut, she eyed him warily and gave him a single nod. Her heart hammered in her chest.
“I thought about you, darlin’,” he murmured. “I thought about you a lot.”
Warm breath stirred her hair. His hand slid up to her throat, his palm forming to the curve of her neck, his fingertips teasing the pulse throbbing beneath her jaw.
“Did you touch yourself, Sara?” Her lips parted and a tiny moan escaped. “Did you think about me kissing you, touching you?”
She rocked back on her heels, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “Steve...”
He lowered his head, cutting her off by pressing soft, chaste kisses to each corner of her mouth. “Sara.” He whispered her name against her lips, softer than the sweetest kiss.
Winding her arms around his neck, she pulled him down. Her fingers tangled in his hair, the soft waves curling around each digit, anchoring her to him. His mouth closed over hers, and she clung to him, meeting every deliciously deliberate kiss and melting into him. He took each one deeper than the last. The tip of his tongue teased her lower lip, tempting her, but for a moment she resisted the urge to open to him.
Resistance is futile.
The thought made her giggle. Her lips parted. The moment his tongue touched hers all thoughts of laughter, lasers, and lightsabers were chased from her head. His arm tightened around her. He lifted her to the tips of her toes while kissing her right down to the soles of her feet. The backs of her thighs nudged the edge of the countertop. He pushed her up onto the counter, parting the folds of her dress as he stepped away, his chest heaving with arousal.
“Did you touch yourself, Sara?”
She shook her head. “I waited for you.”
He captured her wrist, drawing her hand to his mouth and waiting for her fingers to unfurl. When the tender, vulnerable flesh of her palm lay open to him, he smiled and pressed a lingering kiss to the center.
Sara shivered with suppressed desire. She ran her hand over his hair, calming the tousled russet waves then mussing them all over again.
He pushed the thin knit of her dress over one shoulder and turned her palm to cup her lace-covered breast. “Do it now,” he ordered, nipping at the freckled curve of her shoulder.
“What?”
He stood straight, his eyes falling to the mound of her breast trapped beneath her hand and his. “Show me, Sara.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Stepping back, his hand fell away. “Touch yourself the way you want me to touch you. Tell me everything you want.”
Wide-eyed, she lowered her hand, glancing around the kitchen. “Here?”
“Now.”
“Steve...”
“You look incredible,” he told her, his voice low and mesmerizing.
Her eyes widened further when he lounged against the counter behind him, crossing one ankle over the other. His eyes looked dark and sleepy, the lids heavy under the burden of his long auburn lashes. She saw his fingers curled around the edge of the counter, the knuckles giving lie to his relaxed pose by turning stark white. Sara felt a surge of power.
She lifted her hand again, her fingertips trailing along the edge of the demi-cup bra she had selected just for him. “You think?” He grunted, or maybe it was more a growl. Either way, the low animal sound that rumbled from his throat was enough to spur her on. “I got this for you,” she whispered. Running her finger under the strap, she let it slip over her bare shoulder.
He blinked slowly, watching the backs of her fingers graze the top of her breast. “Is that what you want? Slow and soft?”
Sara wet her parched lips, noting the way his eyes darted to her mouth with a satisfied smile. “Slow, soft, hard, fast...I want you.”
He swung his foot to the floor, widening his stance. “Show me. Tell me.”
She cupped her breasts, raising them high in her hands, her thumbs and forefingers closing rhythmically over the tight buds of her nipples. “I want you to hold me in your hands.”
She slipped them into her bra, lifting her breasts from the cups. The cool air caressed her heated skin, and her nipples tightened almost painfully. “I want your mouth, hot and wet.”
“Oh yeah.”
Cradling one breast, she let her other hand drift over her stomach, her fingers toying with the thatch of curls between her legs. Her nails rasped against her mound. “I did what you asked.”
His eyes remained locked on the hand moving between her legs. “Are you wet?”
She dipped one finger into her folds, and he groaned. She stroked herself lightly and held up the finger, showing him the glistening moisture she’d collected. She blinked then gasped, startled by the speed of his movement and the warmth of his mouth closing around her fingertip.
He closed his eyes, his thick lashes resting on his cheekbones while his hot tongue swirled around her skin. He sucked greedily, pulling her finger deeper. She moaned when he released her and he caught it, kissing her hard on the mouth. His fingers tangled in her hair, spreading it over her shoulders, smoothing the ends over her bare breasts as he pulled away.