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  She stared down at him, a soft ‘doe in headlights’ look on her face. “Royce?” His name was a soft plea on her lips, filled with uncertainty. He’d confused her, sent her mixed messages in his effort to do what was right.

  He felt like a wolf, a hungry wolf who wanted to devour this woman, and there was no way that didn’t show in his eyes, no way the energy, the need he felt for her, didn’t radiate off of him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, softly, calmly, when the rage of hormones inside him was anything but. He kissed her knees, one and then the other, reaffirming his decision to let her pleasure be his tonight. “And I’m going to show you how much I mean that.”

  She swallowed hard, her delicate, kissable throat bobbing with the action. “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

  He brushed her dress up her thighs. “You will,” he promised and kissed her delicate little knee again.

  She laughed a nervously feminine sound. “I’m not sure I know what that means either.”

  “You don’t need to know what it means,” he said, his fingers tracing the lace of her thigh high pantyhose, the sexy lingerie choice confirming what he’d always suspected. Lauren might be prim and proper on the outside, but there was a sensual woman beneath the exterior who wanted to come out and play. He wanted to be the man she played with. He wanted to be that man tonight, but no matter how tempting that might be, tonight wasn’t the night. But he’d be damned if he’d allow her to doubt his desire for her, his absolute, complete attraction to her. “You just need to know how it feels.” His hands slipped inside her thighs, easing her legs apart, his lips trailing a path up one leg.

  She moaned softly as his tongue traced the top of the lace hose and she slipped further back against the sofa. “Royce, I…” His fingers slid over the damp black silk of her panties. She moaned again. “Oh.”

  He slipped his finger beneath the fabric, the sweet sound of her pleasure spurring a hunger in him for more. He caressed the sensitive, swollen flesh, and explored the slick proof of her arousal. She moaned again and dug her fingers into the cushion, trying to sit up.

  “Royce…”

  He moved to frame her body with his, his elbows hitting the cushion, his mouth above hers. “I’m going to take you to bed Lauren, but not for the reasons I want to. I’m going to take you to bed and put you to sleep.”

  “What?” she gasped against his lips. “No. I don’t want… I-”

  He smothered her protest with his mouth, kissing her, deeply, passionately, then promising, “I’m going to put you to bed right after I make you come,” he assured her, scooting down her body, his palms caressing her breasts, making her pant. He settled in front of her now closed knees, his fingers finding the lace of her panties under her dress. “You do want to come, don’t you?”

  “Has any woman ever told you ‘no’ when you asked them that question?”

  He kissed her stomach. “You’re the only woman I’m worried about.” He used his hands to urge her backside to lift, pleased when she complied. Royce rolled the material down her hips, over her long, sexy legs, tossing the panties aside. He skimmed her calves, returned to her knees, which he found held real appeal for him. “You’re beautiful,” he said, heat roaring through his veins as he urged her knees apart. “Open for me again, Lauren.”

  Her lashes lowered and lifted. “I’m...” she let out a breath, “I’m nervous.”

  Nervous. His chest tightened with the honesty of her admission, at her continued trust in him; he wanted to be worthy of deserving it. Even more so, at the underlining inference that someone had given her a reason to feel embarrassed. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all. Protectiveness flared inside him and he moved to her, sliding his hand to her face and kissing her. “You have no reason to be nervous with me. Not now, not ever.”

  “Says you,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Says me and I hope says you too very soon.” He nibbled her lip and then, before she could feel anything but pleased, eased one of her legs over his shoulder and settled into the intimate V of her body.

  Royce felt her stiffen, heard her gasp as he ran his tongue over her swollen nub and then drew it between his lips, suckling her gently. His fingers stroked her slick, wet folds, teasing and pleasing, until he slipped one, then another inside her until she was squirming against him, rocking with the movement of his hand and his mouth. Until she cried out and he felt the muscles of her body clench around him, felt his cock throb with the burn to be inside her. Until he licked and soothed her to a soft sigh and her muscles relaxed.

  When she finally stilled completely, he kissed her stomach, only to find her covering her face with her hand. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. He eased her back to look at him.

  She was embarrassed. Nervous and now embarrassed. He hoped he met the guy that had messed with her confidence one day. Oh yeah, he did. “You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?” he asked, nuzzling her neck, his hand stroking up her back.

  “Royce,” she whispered, refusing to look at him, and he wasn’t going to force her, wasn’t going to push her. But he knew now, more than ever, that had he given her no reason to believe he wanted her, she would have pushed him away. She would have built a wall he would have never been able to climb.

  Royce scooped her up and carried her toward the only bedroom he’d seen when inspecting the house. The room was dark, but Royce ignored the switch, his eyes adjusting quickly. She needed the shelter of the shadows, and he wasn’t going to take that from her. Not now, not this evening.

  A fluffy white down comforter sat on top of the mattress and Royce settled them both down on top of it. When she tried to curl into him, to press her body to his, he ran his hand over her hair, kissed her, and then gently turned her back to his front. “Sleep, Lauren,” he murmured.

  She tried to turn, looking at him over her shoulder. “But-”

  He kissed her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She seemed to consider arguing, but slowly turned back into his arms, softening into the crook of his body, the tension sliding away from her. ”You aren’t what I expected, Royce Walker,” she whispered and almost instantly her breathing settled into a slow, steady rhythm, which told him just how influenced by the alcohol she’d really been.

  He nuzzled her cheek, drew in the scent of her, and knew he was in big trouble. He didn’t snuggle, he didn’t linger with women, and he damn sure didn’t get personally involved. Not for years, not since a youthful near marriage that had been so wrong, in so many ways. He’d wanted a career in the FBI. She’d wanted him home, focused on her. The break up had been bad, and truth be told, she’d been right. He’d been more dedicated to the agency than to her. His duty to his country, to the agency, had left no room for a woman, not one he called his own. But he wasn’t in the agency anymore, and at thirty-four years old, he was no longer a young college kid who hadn’t lived and learned. And Lauren affected him like no other woman ever had. And he saw no way around her hating him in the morning.

  “You aren’t what I expected either, Lauren Reynolds,” he whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Lauren woke without opening her eyes, the aches in her body sending her a warning. Slowly, she forced her lids to lift. “Oh,” she moaned, hand going to her forehead. It was pathetic that the tiny amount of alcohol she’d consumed the night before had given her a hangover.

  Shifting, hoping a new position would ease the pain growing in her head, she froze, memories of falling asleep in Royce’s arms flooding her mind. The realization that she was alone slammed into her like a concrete wall. “I’m such a fool,” she whispered. Of course he was gone. Of course he’d left without even a word. She’d all but thrown herself on him, and good gosh, she must have made a fool of herself, because he hadn’t even taken full advantage of her willing state.

  She pressed herself to a sitting position, an action that made her lightheaded, but the true pain was her hu
miliation. Royce Walker had given her a pity orgasm. If that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing in the world, then what was?

  Her brows dipped, her nostrils flaring with an unexpected scent. Coffee. She smelled coffee. How could she smell coffee? Was this some odd, hangover trick of her senses? And then it hit her. Royce. Royce was here and he’d made coffee. A mixture of relief, pleasure, and then panic washed over her. Her gaze went to the barely cracked doorway. He was out there. Royce was in her living room. Oh good gosh, how was she going to face that man knowing she had all but begged him to have his wicked way with her? Life had suddenly taken a path to full frontal embarrassment.

  She looked down and realized she was still wearing her dress from the night before. She swallowed hard. And she had no panties on. They were out there, in the living room, with Royce, the man who’d taken them off of her. She pressed her hand to her face. She had to do something, had to change clothes. Yes. Change clothes.

  Lauren shoved aside the blanket covering her, fighting the throb of her head, and rushed to her closet. She quickly tugged her favorite long red silk robe off the hook inside the door and slipped it over her dress. It wasn’t much, but it was extra coverage, extra armor. She cringed. How was putting on a silk robe which amounted to a piece of lingerie helping her situation? She tore the robe off and threw it to the ground. She didn’t want to look bedroom ready and a robe was bedroom ready.

  She was about to head to the door when her gaze caught on her image in the mirror above her dresser, and she quickly brushed fingers through the wild mass of her hair. Her mascara was smudged, her lipstick gone, her general appearance that of someone who’d drank too much and slept too little. She fought the urge to go fix her face, not wanting to seem too affected by this man, like she’d primped for him, even though she wanted to.

  She shook herself, told herself to calm the heck down. Maybe the scent of coffee was her imagination, a post drinking, post orgasm, morning after fantasy that she’d conjured from a deep craving for a caffeine IV. Or maybe Julie had come by to get the gossip on Royce. Julie! Yes! She had a key. Julie was here, not Royce.

  She laughed at herself, ignoring the disappointment in her stomach, and rushed to the bedroom door but still didn’t yank it open. Instead, she eased into a position where she could peek outside, scanning the empty living room through the crack, and bringing the dining area into focus. And that was when her breath lodged in her throat.

  Royce was sitting at the kitchen table, looking quite comfortable and at home while laughing at something he was reading in the paper. His jacket and tie were gone, a few buttons on his shirt were undone, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to display his powerful forearms, one of which flexed as he raised his coffee cup to his too full, too sensual mouth. The one that had done so many wonderful things to her, that she wanted him to do again.

  Without warning, he lowered the paper, and smiled at her. “Good morning, Lauren.”

  She cringed at the realization that she’d just been busted staring at him. Could she ever stop making a fool of herself with this man? She pulled open the door and forced the breath she’d been holding to trickle from her lips. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  “A gentleman never leaves a woman in need,” he said playfully, suggestively.

  In need. Lauren felt her cheeks heat. She’d made a fool of herself and she had to amend that and amend it now. “I’m not.”

  He lifted his cup and chuckled, a deep, masculine, sexy sound that made her stomach flip flop. “I’m talking about caffeine and aspirin.”

  He stood up and held out a chair. “Come join me and I’ll get you both.”

  ***

  Royce studied Lauren where she lingered in her doorway, unmoving, rumpled and sexy as hell, trepidation pouring off of her. But there was interest in her eyes, attraction in the air between them that morning had done nothing to dissolve. And Royce knew that no matter how many excuses he’d given himself for why he’d stayed: the open window that made no sense, the assignment from her father, the egg and the champagne that had come with a sense of menace he was here for her; he’d simply been unable to force himself to leave. Lauren intrigued him, enticed him, and in short, took his breath away.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself to your coffee pot.” he said, when the silence stretched onward.

  As if his words had somehow released her from a spell, she let out a breath, and her entire body seemed to ease with the act. “Yes. I mean no. You made coffee which makes you my new best friend right about now.”

  Pleased with that answer, Royce headed to the kitchen to snag her a mug. He returned to find her seated at the table in the chair across from the one he’d occupied. Her head rested on one of her hands, elbow on the table, the other massaging her temple.

  He placed a Snoopy mug that he’d found in her cabinet in front of her, and sat down next to her, rather than in his prior seat. He shook the bottle of pills in his hand and drew her attention. “I dug around and found these in your spare bathroom cabinet.” He dumped two aspirins in his palm and held them out for her to take.

  Surprise etched her features as she searched his face and then reached for the medicine. “Thank you,” she said, cutting her gaze to the vanilla creamer he’d swiped from the fridge. She poured some in her cup and downed the pills with the hot, sweet mixture.

  “You’re uncomfortable with me being here.”

  Her gaze jerked to his. “No. No. My head hurts and…” She stopped and stared into her cup, palms now wrapping around it. “And I…you know.” Her lashes lifted and she seemed to be lost for words, something he was sure the well known dynamo prosecutor rarely struggled with.

  “Tell me,” he prompted.

  “Oh well, heck. I’ll just say it. I’m a little embarrassed about last night. I wasn’t exactly proper.”

  Still honest, minus the alcohol. He’d expected her to be more guarded, expected maybe everything would change with morning light, that she wouldn’t be near as enticing as he’d thought the night before. But she was just as refreshingly different from what he’d expected from her today as she had been yesterday. And he knew part of what made her so appealing to him was how real she was. Perhaps the most real thing to touch his life in a very long time. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. Hell, he’d wanted her just as much or maybe more than she had him. Seeing her so excited had made him burn for more. Her trust meant more to him than acting on that desire.

  “Come here.” He turned his chair and held out his hand in invitation. She looked at him, nervousness in her eyes. He drew her hand into his, tugged gently, and softly added, “Please.”

  For a moment, he thought she would refuse, but satisfaction warmed him as she pushed from her chair and came to him. It took so little for her to make him want, to make him need. Such a simple gesture of her willingly sliding into his lap wasn’t so simple for Lauren, though. The effort he knew it took for her to reach beyond her inhibitions magnified its meaning a hundred times over.

  Before she could change her mind, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “You have no reason to be embarrassed with me. I loved last night.”

  “But we didn’t-”

  “I loved last night,” he repeated. “And since it’s the weekend, I would love it if you would spend the day with me.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You want to spend the day with me?”

  He nodded as he laced his fingers behind her neck and pulled her lips to his in a quick but hungry kiss. “What do you say?”

  She hesitated. “This isn’t exactly how I had this planned.”

  “Thought you could use me for a night of hot sex and be done with me, huh?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “No,” she said. “I mean yes. I mean...” She groaned.

  He laughed. “Spend the day with me, Lauren.”

  “Royce.” Her voice hinted at uneasiness. "I’m…” She let her voice trail off, then gave a delicate little laugh. “See what you do to me? I
t’s not normal for me to not finish sentences. You’re very-”

  “Unexpected,” he filled in, using her words from the night before.

  Her features softened. “Yes. You are very unexpected and I just really don’t know how to react to you.”

  “Honestly.” he said. “Just say, and do, whatever feels right.”

  She considered him a moment, then shook her head. “This is crazy, Royce. I’m so not your type.”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but he asked anyway, “And what exactly is my type?”

  “Julie,” she said. “Blonde and gorgeous and curvy, and-”

  He kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her slowly, with delicate sensuality. “You are my type. You, Lauren.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “Spend the day with me.”

  “You want to?”

  “Very much.”

  She leaned back and searched his face, then glanced at the clock above the bar. “Even if I agree, it’s ten-thirty. I promised to join my family for lunch at twelve-thirty.”

  “Then have dinner with me.” She hesitated, and he added, “Trying to cut and run on me?”

  Her gaze latched onto his, narrowed. “What time for dinner?”

  He smiled with his success. “Seven.”

  “Seven-thirty,” she countered, and somehow he knew it was because he’d pressed her into challenge mode, into courtroom battle mode, with his ‘cut and run’ comment. And he liked the contrast of sweet and spicy that was this woman, liked it so much. Too much.

  He shook his head and laughed. “Seven-thirty,” he agreed, setting her on her feet before he carried her to her bedroom and forgot dinner altogether. “I’ll drop you by your parents’ house and save you the cab money if you like.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to,” he said. And he wanted to do so much more with her as well, which was why he set her on her feet, away from him, firmly maintaining his seat. “You should go shower and get ready. I’ll be here waiting.”