Wicked Games. Alison Kent

had any man ever remembered, ever paid the sort of intimate attention needed for such perfect recall? Kinsey moved her hands to her sides, bracing her weight on the counter. She scooted her lower body closer into his and tossed back her head. Eyes closed, she kicked off her shoes and slid her heels up and down Doug’s backside, feeling all that taut resilient flesh beneath his very GQ attire.

      The sensations of slipping and sliding, of being tongued and tasted, the reality that dinner was going to have to wait…She wasn’t sure anything she’d ever felt had been so perfect, any man she’d ever known this amazingly right.

      When he moved his mouth to her other breast, she knew that having him now mattered more than waiting to be certain, than wondering if she was making a mistake she’d regret not having the resolve to avoid.

      She threaded her fingers into his thick hair. “Doug?”

      “Hmm?” he breathed against her skin.

      She shivered. “The food is going to have to be reheated anyway….”

      He slowed his very attentive movements, finally looking up, his eyes bright, his hair falling dashingly over his forehead, his mouth red and wet from the kisses. He kept his hands on either side of her rib cage, holding her there as if he expected her to bolt.

      As if she wanted to be anywhere else.

      “What’re you saying here, darlin’?”

      She met his gaze candidly. “Just that dessert sounds really good right about now.”

      He closed his eyes, as if to assure himself he wasn’t living a dream, then looked back at her with an expression defined by one simple word.

      Hot.

      “Kinsey Gray, you have made me a very happy man.”

      The very words a girl wanted to hear. “I expect total reciprocation.”

      “Trust me, darlin’. You’re about to be the happiest woman alive.”

       3

      KINSEY GRAY HAD BEEN responsible for the best time Doug had ever spent naked with a woman, and he doubted that she had a single clue.

      His fault completely, because he’d never said a word, and he should have. Damn it, but he should have. His excuse wasn’t a good one, but it was real and it was honest and it was the only one he’d been able to come up with.

      And that was simply that, when they’d returned from last summer’s vacation off the coast of Belize, he hadn’t known what to say. He also wasn’t sure how much she remembered of what they’d done on the veranda while under the influence of palm fronds in the breeze and the moon on the water and way too much of Nolan Ford’s stock of sweet Caribbean rum.

      Doug remembered all of it, or so he’d told himself anytime they were together and he wanted to take her to bed. Kinsey, however, had never made a move of any sort that led him to believe she wanted to revisit a connection that had nearly left him blind.

      At least she hadn’t before now.

      But now. Oh, now. Now, with her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, she was definitely sending out the signals he’d been twitching for months to pick up. And the more he thought about having Kinsey served up for dessert, the worse the twitching got.

      He scooped her straight off the cooking island’s slick tiles and headed back the way he’d originally come. She had a hell of an oversize sofa that was just the ticket to take them where he wanted to go.

      She giggled, raining tiny kisses all over his face, blowing away the hair that kept falling into his eyes. “I love that you’ve grown your hair.”

      So much for the haircut he’d been planning. “You’re making it hard for me to see where I’m going here, darlin’. If you hold up a minute, I promise we can get back to the kissing here shortly.”

      “Such a spoilsport,” she said, pouting, but she did lean to the side and rest her head on his shoulder, giving him a clear field of vision.

      Funny how the kissing was suddenly less important than the way she felt cuddled against him, the way she seemed to be so tiny when he knew she was fiercely independent and didn’t need him for anything.

      When they reached the sofa, he turned and tumbled her on to his chest, his body bouncing once before he sank into the plush cushions. Kinsey bounced, too, and her bouncing was a hell of a lot more fun against his front than falling onto the stuffing had been that was against his back.

      Oh, yeah. He could get used to this. Softness all the way around.

      Straddling his thighs, Kinsey levered herself upright with her hands on his abs. Her top ringed her ribs like a white cotton tube, baring both her belly and her breasts. She was stunningly gorgeous, with her straight blond hair hanging down to hide her nipples, her bright blue eyes and her legs, that went on forever, gripping his thighs.

      A total Scandinavian turn-on, he thought, right about the same time he decided her hair was in the way of his northern lights fantasy. He reached up and fanned out the strands behind her shoulders so he could get a good look at dessert.

      And then she blushed.

      He wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed because he was staring, or because his hard-on was making itself known there where her legs were spread apart over his. He reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “You’re so cute when you do that.”

      “And you’re so cute when you do that,” she responded, sliding her hand over his belt buckle to cover his rapidly expanding fly.

      Well, that answered that, didn’t it? Thoughts that went way beyond simple lust fired his grin. This woman was a horny man’s most erotic dream, and he never wanted to come awake again. “Feel free to take a closer look.”

      She took him up on the dare, making quick work of his buckle before easing down the zipper of his fly. Her focus remained on her fingers, and as she unfastened his pants, her upper arms pressed her breasts together into two plump mouthfuls.

      He was absolutely starving, ravenous, insatiable, but he was looking forward to seeing how far she would go. Besides, what was another minute or two when he’d been waiting for this for a very long time? At least for the sixteen months since he’d last had her.

      In fact, why hadn’t he gone with his gut and pursued her before now?

      Maybe because it had taken this long for him to learn that being pursued could be so damn sweet.

      He crossed his arms behind his head, raising his head a tad so he could watch as she worked to get his pants down. As seriously as he enjoyed the physical kick to getting blown, looking at a woman’s mouth—Kinsey’s mouth—in action was a huge part of the turn-on. Any guy claiming otherwise was lying through his teeth.

      Doug had a big thing about telling the truth. And seeing Kinsey scoot on her knees to the foot of the sofa, watching her slender fingers take hold of the waistband of his pants and his boxers, following every movement she made as she stripped him down to his bare essentials, was better than any skin flick he’d ever seen.

      His pants were binding his ankles when she slid back up his body, her bare breasts pressing on either side of his thickly rigid cock. She leaned down, her hair like strands of white silk on his skin, and pressed biting, sucking kisses all over his belly.

      “Kinsey, I’m dyin’ here, darlin’.”

      Without even lifting her head she answered, “I do believe that’s the point,” and then went right back to torturing him in ways he’d never considered possible. Where the hell had this woman been all of his life?

      His cock strained upward, pushing into her chest. She slipped one hand between their bodies to hold him, squeezing rhythmically as her kisses came closer but never in contact with his erection. More than anything he wanted to feel her sweet lips around him, and he told her so with a sharp