Page 42 of Dante
"What?"
"Give me a solution," he invited.
"I..." She floundered as his eyes bored into hers. "You have to see that this is not going to work. I'm just a novelty and it will wear off."
"I don't think so. I want you all the time. Now, I want you now and I have no idea what to do about it." He drew her closer and she did not stop him. Instead, she leaned in, her head lifting in anticipation. Her heart was pounding, her skin clammy with heat. His eyes searched her face and settled on her parted lips.
Smothering a groan, he touched his lips to hers softly, rubbing his lips over hers. His hands wandered down her back, until he was molding her against his body. One hand drifted up to the back of her neck and angled her head for his kiss. One that he deepened. The passion built swiftly, sweeping them along until he was devouring her. She clung to him, her fingers gripping his sweater as she leaned into the kiss.
Her participation fired his desire, sending the madness blazing throughout his body. Lifting his mouth from hers, he stared at her with passion-filled eyes.
"Let me have you." His voice was thick and unrecognizable. "Come home with me. I want to love you properly." He felt as if a fever was raging inside him. "I want to explore your body and do it all over again." His hands raced up and down her arms before gripping her throat. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. I must have you. Please."
Without giving her a chance to respond, he bent his head and took her lips.
Courtney was helpless to resist and felt as if a storm was sweeping her away. She was overwhelmed, the passion burninga path inside her. She sagged against him weakly. Sensations on top of sensations tumbled over and over until she felt as if she was being dragged through the eye of a hurricane.
She buried her hands in his thick hair, feeling the softness there. Her mouth opened to accept his as he dragged her further.
Ending the kiss, he put her away from him, his entire body shuddering. The control was teetering on the brink, and he knew if he continued, he was going to drag her to the carpeted floor. She deserved better.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady himself, his eyes glittering. "Will you come home with me?"
She knew she should say no. Gripping her arms, she cupped her elbows as tremors shook her. Her insides were like jelly, and she could not think straight. But she knew that if she did not make love with him, there was no rest for her. So, she nodded, unable to find the words.
The relief at her assent stunned him. For a few seconds he could not react.
"Good."
"The reports..."
"Can wait. Let's get out of here."
His apartment was an elegant showpiece that stood back from the road and was situated in front of a lake. She had seen photos of the place in several magazines. Dante Livingston was an epitome of the American dream and everything he did made the news, which was bothering her and had her turning back to go home. This was a complicated affair, and affair was the right term for what they were involved in. She had no business going to his place and repeating what was surely a mistake.
She had also lied to her brother, telling him she had to work late. When she was on her way to her boss' apartment to have sex with him.
Shaking the troubling thoughts away, she concentrated on the solitary beauty. The place was neatly landscaped and surrounded by thick oak and redwood trees. Despite the cold weather, vines climbed and clung to the weathered bricks. He had no neighbors and did not have a doorman, which was a relief to her.
Waiting for her to park, he crossed to her and took her hand in his. They made their way across the crushed stone driveway. Entering a series of complicated numbers, he ushered her in when the glass door swung open to spill into what must surely be the foyer. The space was lofty, with a high ceiling and more potted plants everywhere.
"I love living things," he murmured, noticing her interest.
"They're lovely." She had to do something to take her mind off what was about to happen.
"I'll give you the tour later." Taking her hand again, he guided her to the elevator. Like the one in his office building, the car took them up to the second level in a split second. The doors opened to a wide hallway where there were more plants and silken wallpaper of the palest pearl gray. He uncoded adeep burgundy oak door and stepped into a foyer that defied description. The space was wide. The carpet was a lush dull gold color. The wallpaper here was like burnished wood and priceless arts were on the walls. She recognized a Rembrandt only because she had seen it in a magazine she'd read.
Trying not to appear gauche and uncomfortable, she swung her gaze away and connected with an intricate artwork of double staircases that branched off in both directions. The difference in their lifestyles hit her like a ton of bricks and had her pausing at the foot of the staircase.
"What is it?"
"I cannot do this."
His hand tightened on hers. "You're here."
"I cannot do this." Tears burned the back of her eyes. "I have a baby to think about and no matter what the scientists say, it's ababy. My baby. And I cannot pretend that I'm less than who I am, or ignore who you are."
"I don't want you to." He drew her up the stairs and she followed.
