Some Like It Hotter. Isabel Sharpe

she could. She was already kissing him, hot, hungry kisses, pressing her pelvis against his.

      He was a guy. That got a reaction. A fairly immediate and large one.

      Wait, there’d been some reason he was going to avoid getting physical with her. It had seemed convincing at the time. Now he couldn’t remember what it was. In fact, his hands were at her waist, traveling around and down to explore the pink skirt.

      Oh, man. The pink skirt was firm and warm and fit his hands as though it was made to be in them. He wanted nothing more than to beg her to come up to his place so he could lose himself in what was under it.

      But as suddenly as she’d climbed onto his lap, she climbed off, leaving him dazed and hard. Instinctively he moved to reach for her again, but a basic self-protective instinct kicked in and kept him still.

      Thank God.

      “Ames, I had such a nice time tonight, I really appreciate you taking me out.”

      “Hey, no problem, Eva. I had a good time, too. See you around maybe.”

      Only that wasn’t what he said at all. What came out was more like “Ungh, yuh, too. ’Night.”

      Then he was on the street, still dazed, still half-erect, watching the cab speed away, a beautiful blonde beaming at him out of its back window.