Page 24 of You Complicate Me

His lips were warm and firm, yet surprisingly gentle. It wasn’t the kind of kiss she would’ve expected given the hot, hungry look he’d pinned her with, but she felt his desire as surely as she felt her own. He was holding back, she realized, giving her the control she’d asked for.

If she’d been able to think, she would’ve backed off, put some space between them. But Grace hadn’t had sex in a long time, and the magic that was Nick O’Connor’s mouth had just awakened every girly, lustful part of her body, giving her tingles in places that had never even felt a twinge before, so rational thought was a distant memory.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged him closer. Nick growled low in his throat and moved his mouth more deliberately over hers. Grace opened to him and when his tongue touched hers, she thought she’d never tasted anything so amazing in her life. He tasted like peppermint and lust and hot male, and Grace wanted to devour him whole.

He slid his hands down her shoulders, along her ribcage, then slipped his fingertips beneath the snug bottom of her sweater. Hot tingles spread across her chest, her belly, and between her thighs.

But even though he fed her one hot kiss after another, it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted everything—all the passion and fire she’d been missing for so long. She wanted to absorb his heat and feel every inch of his bare skin beneath her greedy fingers.

Grace hitched a leg over Nick’s hip and ground against him in an effort to better fit her curves to the hard angles of his body.

She felt his tenuous control snap, felt it in the way his hands tightened reflexively on her ribcage. Felt it in the pounding of his heart against her breast. Felt it in the hard bulge of his…

Wow. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. The realization played hell with her already-galloping pulse.

And still he wasn’t close enough. She needed more. Nick must have sensed her struggle because he slipped his hands to her waist and lifted her. Grace wrapped both legs around his waist in response. She moaned as her hips rubbed against his. A perfect fit.

Panting, he leaned into her, holding her in place with his weight as his hands shifted from her waist to her outer thighs, then up under her so that his hot palms were cupping her bottom.

Grace let her head fall back against the wall as his mouth slid down her neck. She gasped when his tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat. “This is crazy,” she whispered as she wound her arms around his neck.

“Uh huh,” he murmured against her collarbone. He left one hand on her bottom and used his other to tug down on the V-neck of her sweater. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t crazy after all. That was a pretty great compliment, and she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d felt so alive. And tingly. There were definitely tingles. Hell, her tingles had tingles at this point.

He trailed teasing fingertips over the swells of her breasts and her entire body tightened in anticipation. This was only foreplay, she reminded herself, amazed. If foreplay felt like this, could she actually survive sex with this man? Was death by orgasm possible?

She couldn’t wait to find out.

And just when they’d gone as far as they could with their clothes still on, just when she was on the verge of begging him to drag her to the nearest bed and fuck her senseless…

The elevator dinged and the door opened.

Grace heard a scandalized gasp as Nick slowly lowered her to her feet. She closed her eyes, unable to face, well, anyone at this point. Really, how does one hold her head high when she was caught seconds away from screwing a man against an elevator wall?

A squeak escaped her as Nick leaned over and gave the front of her sweater a quick tug up. Her eyes flew open and she found herself reluctantly staring at a wide-eyed elderly couple. The man’s eyes were fastened on her breasts, and the woman’s eyes were firmly on the front of Nick’s pants.

The older woman glanced at Grace. “I miss being young,” she said with a wistful sigh.

The man shook his head, eyes still on Grace’s chest. “You never looked like that, even forty years ago.”

She scowled back at him. “Well, you never looked like him, either.”

Nick grabbed Grace’s hand and led her out of the elevator. “Sorry about that, folks,” he mumbled.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, dear,” the woman said, adjusting her glasses as she gazed up at him worshipfully.

“Lucky bastard,” the old man muttered as the doors closed.

A hysterical giggle bubbled its way up Grace’s throat and spilled past her lips.

Nick glanced down at her, one brow raised. “You think that’s funny?”

She shook her head, but couldn’t hold the laughter back. Soon, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Nick grinned down at her. “Grace Emerson Montgomery, you will surely be the death of me.”

Chapter Twelve

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