Page 32 of Between the Lines

Inside the massive room, he slid the dimmer switch on halfway—he wanted to be able to see her, every part of her. Pulling off his tie, he enjoyed watching her explore the space.

“You must have just redone this.” She paused to run a finger over the headboard of his bed—a new one he’d had custom built when he’d decided to move into this house. “I can smell paint.”

“It was just finished last week, actually.” Kicking off his shoes, he undid a few more buttons on his shirt, noting the way her eyes tracked the movement. “Moving into my old room felt like moving into the past. But I thought it would be weird to live in here with my dad’s old stuff, which was hugely dated, anyway. So I gutted this room and the master bath. Some of the crew was actually putting the finishing touches on your hotel, so I’m not surprised you didn’t notice. They would have blended right in.”

She appeared to chew on that as she moved to the window. Bracing her hands on the sill, she peered outside, in the direction of her house, the one that her family had been in for decades, the one he knew she’d worked herself to the bone to make sure they kept.

“You renovated these rooms.” She spoke carefully, measuring each word. “Does that mean you plan on staying?”

He was taken aback by the direct question. He knew his plans for the next few years, but beyond that...he hadn’t really thought.

He couldn’t help but be honest. This was Jo. He’d never lied to her, and he didn’t want to make it a new habit.

“I’m here as long as it makes sense for me to be here, for the company.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve always assumed that sooner or later I’d sell, though. That I’d take the profits from Crossing Lines and go invest in something else. Something bigger.”

“Something away from Boston,” she said as she stared out the window. He wanted her to turn around so that he could see her face.

“Well...probably,” he agreed, raking his hand through his hair. Why did that suddenly not sound as appealing as it once had? Why was he even asking that question? He knew why. Chances were, after this he would move back to New York, or more likely, to LA. His dreams didn’t start and end with Crossing Lines. And no matter what happened here between him and Jo, she would never leave Boston. Never leave her family.

He shifted uncomfortably in the silence, suddenly filled with a restlessness that made him edgy. He watched as Jo pushed away from the window, sauntering over to the bed. Her body language said that she didn’t care one way or another what his answer to that question had been, and it made a thread of something darkly possessive spark to life inside him.

She perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing a hand over the steel-gray quilt. “This bed is huge. You could have an orgy in it.”

“Let’s save that for another night.” He felt his lips form a lopsided smile as she arched an eyebrow at him, seemingly content with the subject change. “I promised you dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” Rising, she crossed to him, stopping a foot away. His stare fixed on her pulse, beating rapidly beneath the glove-thin skin of her throat. He wanted to press his mouth there. Use his teeth to mark her as his own.

“What should we do, then?” Even as he spoke, he undid the last of the buttons on his shirt, letting it hang open. He enjoyed her appreciative glance. He’d always logged long hours in the gym, even as a teen, since he wasn’t doing much else. But he’d thickened since then, no longer had any of the gangly limbs associated with puberty. As Jo shed her cardigan, he noted that her body had changed, too, though the differences were subtle. She’d always been petite, nearly skinny in her teens. Now she was curved in all the right places, and though her breasts were still small, they’d plumped up enough to make him think about all the dirty things he wanted to do to them.

“What should we do?” he repeated, taking her by the waist. She shivered as he drew her slowly to him, until the tips of those pretty breasts brushed against the bare skin of his chest.

“I’m cold.” He didn’t think she meant just physically, though her hands were chilly from the damp, the rain. “I want you to warm me up.”

Heat rocketed through Theo’s body. He’d been with other women, beautiful women, sexy women. Most of them had been so eager to be with him that he hadn’t had to do much to charm them into his bed. He hadn’t had to do much to please them there, either, since ultimately what they were after wasn’t really him. No, they wanted the idea of him—the maverick rich boy, the one who turned his back on his family fortune and made his own millions. They liked the travel, the luxury, the lifestyle.

With Jo, his money had always been more of a hindrance if it was anything at all, which it often wasn’t. The woman who stood before him in what he was pretty sure were clothes belonging to one of her sisters had no interest in money beyond keeping her family comfortable. She wasn’t into shopping, hadn’t batted an eye at his Jag. So the fact that she was here at all meant that it was because she wanted him. Him, Theo.

He’d never had to work so hard to get a woman into his bed. And no other woman heated his blood quite like she did.

He wanted this to be good for her, wanted her to be fully aware of who was inside her when she came on his cock.

“Strip for me.” Peeling her cardigan down just enough to expose her delicate shoulders, he pressed a kiss to one then stepped back. He enjoyed the shiver that passed through it, because he knew she was thinking of what was about to happen.

“I said I was cold. How am I supposed to get warm if I take off my clothes?”

But even as she spoke, she was tugging the damp sweater down her arms and off, tossing it to the floor.

“Keep going.” Wanting to see if she would buck against the command, he infused it with arrogance. His brave girl merely arched an eyebrow and slithered out of the long shirtdress thing that hid far too much of her tight little body.

“Last time we were together, I don’t think you even owned a bra.” He nodded at the simple, baby blue cotton that covered her chest. “This is new.”

“I was a little smaller then. I didn’t need one.” Rosy pink flushed the skin of her torso. “They’re still not that big, but it’s enough that I’d be giving everyone a show without one.”

“I like it.” He really did—the simple cotton held up her sweet breasts like an offering. “Take it off.”

“You’re probably used to seeing women in things a lot sexier than this.” Flicking open the front clasp, she held the bra up by cupping her hands around her breasts. “I can get something fancier.”

“Don’t you dare,” he ordered with enough force to make her blink up at him with surprise. “If I wanted to see other women in fancy lingerie, then that’s what I’d be doing right now. But I’m here with you, so what does that tell you?”

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