Not About Love

Chapter Nine

"Do you have a specific number of dates you go on before you'll sleep with someone?"

I flopped back on my pillows with the phone against my ear. "Good morning to you too, Braden." He was calling, as promised, in the morning. Late morning, even. It wasn't his fault I was still tired.

On second thought, it was. He was the one who'd gotten me so stirred up last night I couldn't sleep. I yawned. "Not really. It'll happen when it happens, if it happens at all. Could be the second date. Could be the seventh." My eyelids drooped shut. "Why? Braden?" Silence. "Braden, are you there?" I pulled the phone away from my ear. The bastard had hung up on me. With another yawn, I burrowed back under the covers.

The knock on the door interrupted my plans of going back to sleep. Clad in a tank and boxers, I padded out of the bedroom to answer it.

Braden was standing on my front porch. His lips were on mine, hot and insistent, fingers tangled in my hair before I could draw in the air to speak. "You tell me to leave, I will." His gaze bored into mine. "Please don't ask me to."

The sound of his ragged breathing echoed in the stillness of my front entry. Like our first kiss, this would happen sooner or later. All I had to do was choose. Sooner. Or later.

I hopped up and wound my legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and he staggered as I crushed my mouth to his. I chose sooner. Like right now sooner. His hands clamped onto my hips and he began to stumble toward my bedroom, my lips racing over his jaw. "Your house got bigger," he growled. "Where's the bed?" He must have found it, because I was on my back, blinking to clear my vision as he kicked off his shoes. Then he was stretched out above me, our lips meeting in a fury that stunned me and had my blood burning under my skin.

Heat. So much heat, and I wanted to drown in it. I arched toward him as his hands slid under me, fitting me against him, slipping beneath my tank in search of skin. Skin. I wanted to run my hands over it. I yanked impatiently at his shirt. "You're wearing too many clothes." The complaint came out on a gasp as his lips connected with the sweet spot on my neck, right below my ear.

"Tit for tat, China Doll. You show me yours, I'll show you mine." He pulled the shirt over his head, his greedy hands reaching for the hem of my tank.

I sat up as he drew it up and off. "Not fair. You've already seen me naked." My lips connected with the warm skin of his chest, and I opened my mouth against it. The taste of him flooded over my tongue, and I licked at him, placing suckling kisses over his chest. I wanted his weight on me. Lowering myself back down, he followed me, one hand skimming up the curve of my waist to cover my breast.

"Doesn't count. That was for professional purposes only." He captured my mouth again, hands caressing, stirring small fires and leaving a trail of sparks in his wake. Settling in to the vee of my legs, rubbing against the ache gathered there, he began a patient exploration with his lips, with his tongue.

He was driving me insane. He moved slowly, like he could, and would, spend hours rubbing his lips over my skin. I rolled my hips against him, a low growl escaping my lips. His response was to use his teeth. "Braden!"

With a soft chuckle, the sound of it rumbling through my ears, he brought his mouth back to mine. "No rushing. I've waited too long for this." He drew back, fingers tracing feather-light paths down my breasts, over the soft flesh of my abdomen until they hooked into the waistband of my shorts. "Always wondered if your skin was the same all over." His smile was tinged with wicked as the shorts were pulled down my legs, my panties following close behind.