Working With Heat. Anne Calhoun

and were afraid of having their bikes vandalized if they were locked up outside. Thoughtful, Milla added to the list in her mind.

      “Sounds like your readers aren’t doing a better job of picking your dates than the dating websites,” he said with a grunt.

      “Thanks,” Milla said. “All relationships fail until one doesn’t. I’m not going to close myself off just because someone calls me a name or a crashing bore backs me into a corner at a bar and natters on endlessly about the derivatives market or circuitry.”

      “Or glass.”

      “You’ve never backed me into a corner and yammered on endlessly about your art. I have to practically pry details out of you.”

      He paused in the entryway and let the door to the street close behind them. To the left was the door that opened into the flat she shared with Elsa and Kaitlin. In front of them were the stairs that led to the second and third floors, where he lived. Her heart started to pound in her chest, slow, deep thuds that pushed her blood through her veins in thick, heated pulses. He leaned against the wall opposite her, looking for all the world like a good male friend making sure his good female friend was safely in her flat before he went on his way. But with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shirt open at his throat, he was right out of her dreams. The summer sun gilded his hair, picked out glints of gold in his scruffy beard, highlighted his pulse at the base of his throat. He looked at her, his blue eyes dark and intense under his eyebrows, making him look just a bit dangerous.

      The wary look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. He felt the connection, too, but wouldn’t take the first step. So she crossed the foyer and kissed him.

      The sharp edge of his scruff scratched deliciously at her lips as she brushed them back and forth across his mouth, tempting him to open them. When he did, she touched the tip of her tongue to his, tasting the Guinness he preferred. When she withdrew, his tongue traced the edges of her teeth, then her lower lip. She licked the spot, then bit it, watching his eyes drop to her mouth as she did.

      She closed the last couple of inches between them, and exhaled softly when her body pressed against his from her knees to her breasts. Everything that was soft about her—breasts, stomach, thighs—pressed against everything that was hard about him. Chest. Abdomen. His cock, thickening against her lower belly.

      His hand cupped her jaw, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones, then he bent his head and kissed her, using lips and teeth and tongue to capture her mouth. Charlie had learned patience handling sand heated until it became liquid, pliable. He’d learned how to seduce a woman by working with heat. He didn’t rush. He drew it out, nipping at her lips, tilting his head to kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, before returning to her mouth and using his lips to open it farther, his tongue advancing in slow stages, until she stepped closer, giving most of her weight to his body, weaving her thigh between his. She put her hands on his hips and tucked her index and middle fingers through his belt loops, pulling him closer, letting herself get absorbed in the texture of his beard against her lips and tongue. He turned, seeking out her ear, nipping at the lobe.

      She bent her head to rest on his shoulder, felt the heat of his skin through the fine cotton of his shirt, smelled the scent of him, so elemental. Soap, skin, the heat he absorbed all day. He’d been her friend for months, but now there was the possibility of something more. “Invite me up.”

      His fingers trailed through her hair to her jaw. He brushed his thumb across her lips and said, “Are you sure?”

      There were a dozen good reasons not to do this, not to sleep with her friend. Ruining the friendship. Making things awkward between all five of them. But the look in Charlie’s eyes was one really good reason to do this, and Milla had never been one to act out of fear. She’d take a chance on the chemistry, knowing she’d put their friendship at stake.

      “I’m sure,” she said, and kissed him again.