License to Love (8 page)

She eyed him warily. “You aren’t going to... to make a serious pass at me?”

“I’ll be glad to, if you give me the signal. Otherwise, consider my token attempt the pass of the night. I don’t believe in forcing myself on a woman, Michelle. If she says no, I respect that.”

Inordinately relieved, Michelle sank down onto the sofa beside him. “I’m glad to hear that. I wasn’t looking forward to having to fight you off tonight.”

“That would be a first for me,” Steve said dryly. “I’ve never experienced having a woman fight me off.”

Michelle gazed at him, unable to tear her eyes away. He really was a marvelous-looking man with those dark good looks and solidly masculine build. Her pulses fluttered oddly. “I suppose for you, the reverse applies,” she said thoughtfully. “All those panting, eager dates of yours
—you
probably have to fight
them
off.”

“To keep them from having their wicked way with me?” Steve laughed. “Let’s not go into that. Suffice to say, that I understand no means no. And on the brighter side—yes means yes.”

“So if a woman says yes, you’ll take her to bed, but it doesn’t really matter either way to you, does it?” Michelle frowned quizzically. “You’re awfully nonchalant about all of this. I thought making conquests was serious business to men like you.”

Steve leaned back against the sofa cushions and stretched his legs, resting his feet on the low, wide coffee table. “You’re thinking of those neurotic types whose self-worth depends on whether or not they can lure women into bed with them. They usually do everything in their power to make the women fall in love with them, too—it’s all part of their sick little ego-boosting game. Women make a big mistake by lumping all single men into the same category. There are major differences between those needy, insecure jerks and us confident, happy, independent guys. Those creeps give the rest of us a bad name.”

He leaned toward her, his dark eyes intense. “I don’t need a woman’s capitulation to affirm my masculinity or to build my self-esteem. I’m very satisfied with myself and my life. I have my work and lots of interests, I have friends and family and I relish my freedom. I’m not looking for love and I’ve never pretended otherwise. I like women, I enjoy being with them, and I just want to have a good time.”

Michelle regarded him archly. “Are you always this honest with the women you, uh,
date?
Are you always so upfront about your intentions—or the lack of them?”

Steve shrugged, grinning. “I don’t usually talk this much with the women I, uh,
date.
” He mimicked her inflection perfectly. “We’re usually doing something, like dancing or watching a movie or a ball game.” He paused. “Or other things.”

Other things.
One could only imagine what that might include. Michelle tried to will away the flush of color that stained her cheeks. Unsuccessfully. “You don’t have to elaborate,” she said sternly.

“Before you condemn me out of hand, try to understand. I talk all day, all week long, remember? All lobbyists do is talk; it’s the chief tool of the trade. I get so sick of
talking
. The last thing I want is to have to
talk
to my dates. In my spare time, I need a break from talking.”

“So you date idiots whose conversation is limited to exclamations like ‘oh, wow’ and ‘cool’?” guessed Michelle.

“Well, idiots is a bit harsh, but essentially, you’ve got the picture.”

“I suppose it’s never crossed your mind that there’s a difference between lobbying and meaningful conversation. Or that you might actually enjoy talking with your dates if you chose women capable of intelligent conversation?”

His dark eyes gleamed. “Mmm, now there’s a radical notion.”

“Wait a minute, it just occurred to me. When you asked me out, did you assume that
I
was a bubblebrain who wouldn’t mentally tax you?” Michelle was indignant. “You did, didn’t you?”

“No, no! I knew you were different!”

“You’re right on cue with that self-serving line.” She gave him a speaking glance. “I hope you don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe you.”

“But it’s true, Michelle. I really did enjoy talking to you on the phone that day. I wanted to get to know you better. You’re smart and sharp and good at your job. You—interest me, Michelle.”

“Oh, and most women don’t?” she asked snidely.

“Only physically. With you—it’s more.”

“Yes, of course. You admire my brains
and
my body,” Michelle said, scoffing. “Come on, Steve. Reel it in. I’m not biting.”

“It’s not a line, Michelle.” He sounded hurt. So genuinely wounded that she reflexively turned to him to see if he really was.

With one deft but leisurely move, Steve closed the small gap between them, slipping one arm around her shoulders and tilting her chin upward with his other hand. “Not even a little nibble?” He smiled at her, his eyes warm and filled with humor.

To her dismay, Michelle found herself responding to his roguishly teasing smile with a hesitant smile of her own. What she ought to be was annoyed with him, she reminded herself. He’d been toying with her. Hadn’t he? Perhaps she should be furious with him.

But she couldn’t seem to work up the righteous anger required. And now he was so very close, his arm around her, his sensual smiling mouth heart-stoppingly near to hers. His long fingers slipped from her chin to her neck to caress the sensitive skin which tingled under his fingertips, sending ripples of fire deep to the very core of her.

“How do you do it?” she asked shakily. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. The musky male odor of soap and after-shave and something
indefinably him
sent her senses swimming.

“Do what?” The husky timbre of his voice was as powerfully seductive as his eyes that had turned heavy and hungry and slumberous with desire.

With his one arm around her and the other stroking her neck, Michelle felt surrounded by the warm, male strength of him. She was vaguely aware that she ought to push him away but she pushed the thought away instead and sat still, gazing into his eyes like one mesmerized. “You know,” she murmured tremulously. “Turn things around this way. We were arguing and then suddenly—”

Her voice trailed off as he touched his lips to hers, so lightly and gently she almost thought she’d imagined it. “We were arguing to keep ourselves from doing this,” he said in a voice so smoky and intimate and sexually stimulating that a tremor of longing rocked her. Her eyelids dropped closed.

Steve’s movements were slow and assured as he drew her back against the cushions. He cupped her cheek with his palm, his fingers moving rhythmically, erotically, as he brushed her lips with his once more. “Sitting there in that restaurant tonight,” he breathed the words softly, seductively, as his mouth continued its languid, confident caresses of her lips, her cheeks, the curve of her jaw. “I wanted to touch you so much.”

His hand, which had been resting on her shoulder, slid down her back and began to knead the hollow of her waist. He spread his fingers to span the flatness of her belly to the underside of her breast. Michelle felt a dizzying heat erupt within her. The tips of his fingers seemed to be sending sparks of electricity to her every nerve ending. Reflexively she crossed her legs and leaned closer to him, mindlessly seeking the source of that heady male warmth.

With amazing dexterity, Steve’s hands moved and shifted so that one was stroking the silky length of her thigh, exposed as her short skirt skimmed higher, while his other hand captured her nape, holding her to receive the full, firm descent of his mouth.

Michelle waited achingly as shudders of desire chased along her spine. She had never been aroused so swiftly, so hotly. Dazed and yearning, she did not think to credit his expert technique for the wild sensations leaping to life within her. She believed them to be a result of her own emotions, her feelings for him, feelings she’d been fighting all evening. Now, in his arms, every ardent, expectant part of her gave up the fight.

“I’ve been wanting to taste you,” Steve murmured huskily as he finally, masterfully, took possession of her mouth.

Her lips opened under his as her arms slid slowly around his neck. His tongue slipped into her mouth to explore the inner softness and Michelle clung to him, drowning in the kiss that grew deeper and hungrier. Still, she ached for an even deeper closeness. There was a rightness in the way he held her, a rightness in the way they were kissing. It was as if she had been waiting her whole life for him and for this sweet, burgeoning passion that flared between them.

Her body arched into his hands and she whispered his name. A deep, primal growl rumbled in Steve’s throat, a mating sound, one that he could not control. It shook him, that sudden explosive loss of control. His breathing was fast and shallow and his entire body ached and throbbed with intense sexual need. He’d never gotten so excited so fast— and simply from kissing, too.

What had started as a light, playful experimental kiss, begun more to satisfy a certain curiosity than compelled by a driving force, had swiftly, irrevocably turned into something else entirely. Something beyond his ken, beyond his control.

He felt like a match striking tinder, his body igniting into flames as Michelle first yielded to his kiss, then became an active participant, kissing him back with an ardor that sent wildfire ripping through him. When she clung to him and moved sinuously, sensuously against him, her sweet mouth open and hungry under his, a hot fierce pressure built and grew explosively inside him.

Unable to hold back, he slid one big hand down the wide neckline of her dress. He encountered the silk and lace of her bra but did not let that impede him. His fingers slipped inside to cup her bare breast beneath the material. He caressed the rounded softness, drawing breathless little gasps from her.

Michelle’s eyes were tightly closed and she moaned softly as he rubbed her nipples into taut buds of fire. She twisted restlessly, trembling at the wild sensations his touch aroused. It felt so good; she didn’t want him to stop. When he withdrew his hand, she whimpered in protest.

“Easy, baby,” Steve soothed, his voice deep and rasping. “Let’s get you out of this.” He smoothed his hands over her back, looking for a zipper or buttons and finding neither. Frustration seared him. “How do you get this thing off?”

He tugged at the stretchy fabric of the dress. She must’ve pulled it on over her head—or stepped into it, working it up and over her torso. Steve groaned. Either way, removing it was not going to be easy.

That same revelation jarred Michelle out of the sensual mists that had enveloped her. This was an enticing, sexy dress, but it was one that required privacy to take on and off. The contortions, tugging and wiggling involved in doing so were neither enticing nor sexy for a lover to observe.

Lover!
The word bounced around her head like a ricocheting bullet. As she emerged from under the spell of his powerful virility, full awareness of what she’d done—and what she’d been about to do!—assailed Michelle with devastating force. Her body turned from pliant to rigid as she tried to wrench away from his grasp.

“Let me go!” She took great gulping breaths of air while her shocked eyes locked into combat with the velvety depths of his.

Steve moved a few inches away, but did not release her. His whole body was one throbbing, burning ache. “Michelle,” he began hoarsely.

“No!” She pushed at his chest, hard. Her unexpected strength caught him off guard long enough for her to break free. She jumped to her feet. “I can’t believe it!” Outrage at herself, at him and at the overwhelming sexual chemistry between them, fueled her already volatile reaction. “You’re as slick as an oil spill! You made me feel comfortable and 
safe
 with you. You tricked me into relaxing my guard around you. You said you didn’t need a woman’s capitulation, that I wouldn’t have to fight you off but—”

“There was no need for you to fight,” Steve reminded her, an odd expression on his face. “You were with me all the way, baby.” He wanted to pull her back in his arms, to crush her down onto the sofa and kiss her into hot and hungry submission. Would she let him?

“You arrogant, egotistical, despicable liar!” Michelle raged.

Steve winced. Obviously she would not. “I’m not a liar,” he said tightly. “A good lobbyist loses his credibility if he lies and loss of credibility means loss of access. I am not a liar, Michelle,” he repeated.

“I’m not talking about lobbying, you snake. I’m talking about what you told me tonight. All that reassurance about not making a pass and then you did just that.” And had achieved devastating success with it, too! Michelle seethed.

“I
said
I’d never force a woman,” said Steve. His own temper was beginning to rise, despite his attempts to contain it. She could get to him like no one else. “And I didn’t force you into anything, Michelle. Anyway, it’s not like I seduced you. We were only kissing!”

Only kissing!
She felt as if he’d slapped her in the face.
Only kissing?
That’s how he regarded it, that’s all it meant to him—only a kiss. Another woman, another kiss, another weekend. Michelle remembered the passion that had flared between them, the pleasure, that fierce sense of rightness, of having found something unique and special that could not be duplicated with anyone else. Clearly he had experienced something else entirely. Her face burned with the shame of decimated pride.

“Only kissing
,
you say?” She would never, ever let him know how deeply she’d been wounded by that trite dismissal. Instead Michelle tore into him like a virago. “You seem to have forgotten that you had your hand down the front of my dress!”

“And you loved it!” Steve growled. She’d asked for that, he assured himself. When she drew back her hand and slapped his cheek, he silently admitted that he had asked for that, too.

Michelle stared at the reddening handprint on his cheek with fascinated horror. “I’ve never hit anyone before in my life,” she murmured.