Mouth To Mouth. Erin McCarthy

I was trailing snow on your carpets.”

      “It’s okay.” In fact, if he needed to take anything else off, she was fine with that, too.

      He had on oatmeal-colored socks, the kind with the red strip across the toe. Hunting socks, hiking socks, man socks. On her throw rug, shaped like a fat, white daisy with a lemon dot in the middle.

      “Here’s the first e-mail.”

      Russ leaned over her shoulder. She knew he was reading the message out loud—she could feel his breath teasing across the back of her neck. She reread it herself, drew in the masculine scent of Russ’s aftershave and shivered.

      “He sounds so sincere apologizing, doesn’t he?” Laurel mused. It was interesting to her, to read the message again, to wonder if she would have trusted the sincerity of it if Russ hadn’t told her the truth first. She liked to think that sooner or later natural instincts would have kicked in and she would have sensed that something about the guy was off. But then again, it was just words on a screen, easy to interpret however you wanted to. Maybe in person, she would have seen the lie in his eyes.

      Russ’s fingers touched her chin. She turned, startled, pulled out of her musings. His face was close. She could see he had a chipped tooth on the bottom left—just a little point missing at the top. He looked frustrated, intense, like he was struggling to stay calm.

      Laurel sucked in her breath and tried really hard not to want to kiss him. But her legs trembled, her shoulders shuddered, her breath caught. She wasn’t very good at the not-wanting-him thing.

      Too bad sex didn’t seem to be the first thing on his mind.

      “Don’t believe him. Don’t e-mail him. Change your address and stay clear of chat rooms. Do you understand me?”

      Nope, she could tell he wasn’t thinking sex. He was thinking God save me from dumb blondes. Laurel didn’t want to hear another lecture, not now in her bedroom. She honestly hadn’t been suggesting anything other than the fact that the guy was good at what he did. She wasn’t such a sap as to still be taken in by him, despite what her mother thought. And she didn’t really care one iota what Trevor Dean was doing, not when she had Russ Evans touching her. In a chin lock, but hey, she had to start somewhere.

      Then move forward from there. She touched his lip with her thumb, gathered up her courage. “How did you chip your tooth?”

      “You’re changing the subject.”

      Absolutely. “I can see it…I was just wondering.”

      His eyes had gotten very dark, like melted chocolate. He hesitated, then said, “My buddy bumped me when I had a beer bottle in my mouth.”

      “Did it hurt?” Instead of dropping into her lap like a good little hand, her palm slid down his shoulder and held onto his bicep.

      For balance, of course. Because she was in danger of falling flat on her ass, blown away by the rising desire she thought she could see in Russ’s face.

      Not that she was an expert on interpreting sexual interest, but she didn’t think that under normal circumstances a man looked capable of tearing a woman’s clothes off with his teeth. Russ was getting there fast, and she had the tight nipples to prove it.

      “Yes, it hurt.” His hand was still under her chin, and he tilted her head a little, studied her. “So are you still planning on going wild and having casual sex?”

      Yes. That eliminated the need for her to work sex into the conversation. He’d done it all on his own, and she was truly grateful. Now if she could just swallow her saliva and not her tongue, she’d be all set.

      Laurel forced the words out, wondering if they slurred. “I’d like to. But not with just any man.” He’d pretty much ruined that. She wasn’t going to be interested in any man but him. “Not a stranger, either. But it’s hard to meet people. I work in a candy store, and our clientele is not usually single men.” She was babbling, saying too much. Just get to the damn point. “I would want it to be with someone I could trust.”

      Russ took her hand, pulled her to a standing position, brushed her hair off her cheek so she shivered when his callused hands swept her skin. “Why just an affair, Laurel? I don’t understand.”

      Neither did she sometimes, so it was going to be tough to explain. She took a deep breath, captured his other hand with hers, and went over to the wild side. “I have a nice life, Russ. I do. But I’m lonely, that’s all. I just want a man to touch me.”

      His eyes went dark, narrow, fierce. She almost forgot to look at his lips, almost imagined she could hear his thoughts in his deep, rich eyes.

      “I’d like to touch you, Laurel.”

      Good, they were completely in sync then. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

      “And I’d like to touch you now, everywhere, and tumble you back onto that prissy bed of yours.”

      Oh, my. Laurel glanced at her bed. She wasn’t sure if she was ready right this second. It was just past noon on a weekday.

      “But I’m on duty, so I can’t.”

      Disappointment and relief collided like cymbals.

      “But can I come back tonight? We can go out…see what happens.”

      “My mother is out of town,” she said to avoid whimpering in acquiescence.

      “Good.” His hand went into her hair and his head bent down.

      It took her a second to realize that he really and truly meant to kiss her. By the time she was clear on it, he was already there.

      It wasn’t questing or tentative or polite. It was deep and possessive, wet, and almost rough. Laurel just gripped the edge of her desk and held on for the ride. She could feel his hunger and confusion, which mirrored her own.

      But it was still a hell of a kiss, and when he pulled back, she was panting, heart racing, thighs burning, eyes wide.

      He wiped her trembling lip with his thumb. “I’m going to be sorry I did this.”

      “I hope not.” She meant that most sincerely. She wanted to please him, wanted him to enjoy her body as much as she planned to enjoy his.

      “Are you determined to do this? Even if we regret it?”

      She didn’t plan on regretting a damn thing. “Yes.”

      Russ looked a little grim, stoically determined. “Okay, we’ll just have to do this together, then. We’ll just forge our way through.”

      He moved his hands forward, mocking completion, and Laurel actually felt all the blood sink out of her face into her chest, then rise up again to set her cheeks aflame. “Forge through? We’ll just forge through? You make me sound like a driveway that needs to be plowed!”

      Mortified, Laurel watched in disbelief as he had the nerve to look offended. As if he were the one being forged. Why didn’t he just cut a path, carve out a solution, and get right on the task at hand while he was at it?

      “Well, that’s a really crude analogy, Laurel.”

      Before she could even prevent it, her mouth dropped open and she was laughing. They were having the most bizarre conversation in her bedroom. “You’re the one who brought up forging.”

      He gave her a brief grin, then touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “Shit. I guess that came out wrong. I’ve just never talked so much about sex. I usually just do it.”

      That’s all she really wanted, too. They had a united goal, which was a start. “Russ, are you doing this because you think you should to protect me, or because you’re attracted to me? Because I don’t want pity sex just because you’re a nice person.”

      She may be horny, but she had pride.

      “Laurel.” Russ tugged her hand, pulling her up against the length