Kane, Andrea (34 page)

"I guess I am," Sabrina acknowledged thoughtfully.
"Sometimes help has to be shoved down my throat. Okay, you're right.
Susan's well aware that Carson's stubborn as hell about showing weakness. In
this case, she should be forcing him to get over that—and forcing herself to be
strong." Sabrina took a sip of sangria. "You know her a lot better
than I do. Do you doubt that her feelings for Carson are genuine?"

"Nope." Dylan gave an adamant shake of his head.
"That's the one thing I don't doubt. If I did, I'd be in Carson's face,
whether or not he wanted me there. Someone's got to look out for the guy. As it
is..." His voice trailed off. "Let's not talk about this anymore,
okay? It only ticks me off. And I want us to unwind."

"Fine with me." Sabrina glanced around the small,
crowded restaurant. "I like this place. It's loud, it's jam-packed and, at
the same time, it's cozy. Is that possible— or is it an illusion created by
imbibing half a pitcher of sangria?"

Dylan chuckled. "Both. Sure it's possible. But it's better
when you're mellowed by wine."

"Mellowed. Yes, I'm certainly that. What worries me is what
I'll be after pitcher number two, which is on its way." She eyeballed the
one sitting in front of her, empty except for a wooden spoon, half-melted ice,
and a sliver of apple.
"I
can't believe we're actually going for a
second batch. I don't care what Carson said—I think it's only fair to warn you
that I'm a cheap drunk. If I go for more than another glass or two, I won't
just be sleeping in. I'll be slumping over."

"I'll make sure you stop before that happens."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Well..." Her eyes sparkled. "In that case, a
little more mellowing out can't hurt."

"Glad to hear it." A corner of Dylan's mouth lifted.
"Because reinforcements have arrived."

As he spoke, the waiter appeared with the second pitcher. He
topped off each of their glasses, then placed the pitcher on the table between
them, and left.

"Ummm." Sabrina's eyes slid shut as she savored her
first cold sip. "I think this batch is even better than the first. My
glass has almost twice as many oranges and lemons as last time."

"Really." Dylan sounded amused. "You multiplied
that out with your eyes closed?"

"I didn't need to multiply," she replied, her lashes
lifting. "I inhaled. The stronger citrus aromas told me what I need to
know."

"Ah. That remarkable olfactory sense. I can't wait to see you
apply it to perfume." Dylan watched her take a second swallow, and his
eyes darkened as she licked a few drops off her lips. "Actually, there are
a lot of things I can't wait for."

The electricity between them crackled to life again— its impact
jarring. Sexual tension sizzled through them, between them.

This time Sabrina explored, rather than fought, it. "Tell me
something, counselor." She propped her elbow on the table and regarded
Dylan intently. "Did you take me here so we'd relax, or so we'd be on safe
ground because we're among lots and lots of people?"

He set down his glass, folding his hands on the table and leaning
forward. "I took you here because the food and the sangria are great, and
because it's far away from offices and hospitals. As for safe ground, I told
you there is none." His voice lowered, took on a rough, provocative
quality that sent shivers up her spine. "The crowd's irrelevant. The
setting's irrelevant. I want you no matter where we are and no matter who we're
with. I think you know that. What I want to
do
with you can't be done in
a restaurant—
any
restaurant, busy or quiet. It requires total privacy,
long interrupted hours, and a very big bed." He paused. "Actually,
the bed is optional. I could improvise."

Sabrina had never been seduced by words before. But there was a
first time for everything.

Waves of heat shot through her, throbbed in all the right places.
She swallowed, hard, savoring and fighting the sensations all at once.

"Too blunt?" Dylan asked. "Or too much to
handle?"

"Neither. Too close to what I want."

Those orange sparks glinted in his eyes. "The complications
that stopped us in our tracks yesterday—I was going to wait to bring them up.
But I think we'd better get past them, fast. How does now work for you?"

"Now works fine—if I can think straight."
Or if I want
to,
Sabrina added silently to herself. She took a fortifying gulp of
sangria.

"Let's start with the biggie." Dylan wasn't mincing
words. "You're going through a lot of upheaval right now. An affair with
me would be another complication."

"True. But maybe it wouldn't be an affair. Maybe it'd be
something simple, like a one-night stand."

"Uh-uh." Dylan pushed aside his glass. "Not a
chance. Not with us. One night would merely whet our appetites. Trust me."

She arched a brow. "About this, I guess I should. You're the
one who discovered sex the day he reached puberty. That makes you a pro."

"It makes me experienced enough to know that with us—"
He sucked in his breath. "Let's just say that once I get inside you,
neither of us will be coming up for air for a long, long time. That's a given.
Now, is it what you want, even with the complications?"

"Yes." Sabrina had never run away from anything in her
life, and she wasn't running away from this. "It's just what I want. I
only hope it doesn't push me past overload. But if it does, so be it. I'm a big
girl. I can cope—I think. There's only one way to find out."

"Ditto, on all counts." He noted the dubious expression
in her eyes, and addressed it. "Don't kid yourself, sweetheart.
Experienced or not, I'm way out of my league on this one. I told you so last
night. And I meant it." He reached over, took her hand, and brought her
palm to his mouth. "But the bottom line is, I no longer give a damn."

Sabrina had to grit her teeth against the pleasure of his touch,
his breath against her skin. "O-okay, we covered complication one. What
are the others?"

"Mixing work with play. Becoming part of the media hype when
your relationship to Carson gets out. Other things I can't come up with right
now because all I can think about is getting inside you." Dylan's warm,
open mouth moved against her palm in slow, teasing sweeps. "Your turn. Do
any of those complications matter enough to change your mind?"

"No. There's only one potential obstacle that matters—and I'm
not even sure it's valid."

"You're talking about Carson, and the way he'll react when he
finds out."

"Y-yes." Sabrina caught her breath as Dylan bit down
lightly on her palm, sending shock waves shimmering through her. "But
after the way he just acted..."

"... it could be that that last complication's
nonexistent." Dylan was tasting her skin, lingering at all the pleasure
points.

"So you did notice."

"Um-hum."

How was she supposed to think straight when every caress was
shooting straight to her loins?

Carson. They were talking about Carson, and whether or not he
would be bugged by their getting together, or cheering them on.

"It wasn't my imagination then. Carson was pushing us into
bed together," she managed weakly.

"Sure seemed that way to me." Dylan's tongue traced the
inside of her wrist. "Unless it was a coincidence that he happened to be
out of it just long enough to tell us both to get drunk and sleep in—and then,
wham-o—he was wide awake when Susan walked in."

"That was my take on it, too." Sabrina tried to recall
the conversation, but all she could think about was her libido, which was
screaming at the top of its lungs. "I wonder if he has an agenda when it
comes to us."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Dylan's breathing had become uneven.
She could feel it against her damp skin. "Frankly, I don't care. I want
you. You want me. We're consenting adults. Yes, I respect Carson's opinion of
me. But that doesn't include needing his approval to take you to bed. The only
person whose approval I need is yours." He dragged her ringers slowly
across his parted lips, circling each fingertip with his tongue. "Do I
have it?"

She would have replied, if she could speak. All she could muster
was a nod.

Dylan took in the play of emotions on her face, and his jaw
tightened. "Is there anything I'm forgetting on the complications
front?" he demanded. "Because I thought I could wait. I can't."

"Neither can I."

The tension peaked, and splintered.

"Forget the second pitcher of sangria," Dylan ground
out, releasing her fingers to shove his hand in his pocket and grope for his
wallet. "I want you sober. I want your mind totally clear. That way,
you'll know when I make you lose it."

That did it for Sabrina.

She was shaking as she tossed her napkin on the table, pushed
aside her still-full glass. No arm-twisting was necessary. She wanted her mind
as clear as Dylan did. "Get the check."

"Done." Dylan was already signaling the waiter.

Three minutes later, the receipt had been signed, and they were
making their way toward the door.

"Whose apartment's closer?" Sabrina asked, her voice so
raw she hardly recognized it.

"Yours. But we're going to mine."

"Why?"

The look Dylan gave her could melt stone. "Because I've got
two boxes of condoms there."

The tension in the car was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Sabrina and Dylan climbed out in front of Dylan's brownstone, and
he sent the driver away, saying he'd walk Ms. Radcliffe home. Whether or not
the driver sensed how frantic they were to get at each other, neither of them
cared.

Dylan unlocked his front door, steering Sabrina inside. He slammed
the door shut and flipped the lock. "The grand tour's going to have to
wait," he said thickly, backing her against the wall. He tugged her blazer
down her arms, lowering his head and covering her mouth in a kiss that burned
through them both.

Shaking her arms free of the garment, Sabrina let it drop to the
floor, tearing her mouth away from Dylan's long enough to answer breathlessly,
"I don't want a tour. I want this." She resumed the kiss, her palms
gliding inside Dylan's suit jacket, up his shirt front.

He was unbuttoning her blouse, sending a few buttons scattering to
the floor as he yanked it free of her skirt, spread the sides apart to give him
access to her skin. His lips burned a path down her throat to her cleavage.
"Decision time. It's too dark for you to see your surroundings. So I'll
describe. You choose." He pulled the pins out of her hair, tunneling his
fingers through it as it tumbled to her shoulders. "The fireplace is
across the hall. There's a shag rug in front of it. The living room's to our
right. It has a wide, cushy sectional sofa. The den's to our left. It has a
leather recliner that tilts way, way back. Upstairs, there are two bedrooms.
The guest room's got a queen-size bed and a huge area rug. The master's got a
king-size bed and extra pillows. What's your pleasure?"

Sabrina paused in the process of unbuttoning his shirt, tipped up
her chin. "Where are the condoms?"

"In the master."

"Sold."

His mouth came down on hers, hard, and he tangled a hand in her
hair, anchored her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue plunged inside, rubbed
against hers, and Sabrina shoved open his shirt, pressed herself against the
hair-roughened surface of his chest. Her nipples hardened through the sheer
silk fabric of her bra, burned into his skin, and Dylan's control snapped.

"We're going up there—now." He swung her into his arms,
strode through the darkened hall and up the flight of steps.

"If you'd turn on the lights, I could walk," Sabrina
murmured, burying her lips against his throat, pressing hot kisses there.

"That would take too long." Dylan's voice was hoarse,
and he shuddered with each stroke of her lips. "All that matters is
getting your clothes off and getting you under me.

He carried her into his bedroom and lowered her onto the bed,
following her down.

They came together without prelude, their kisses hot and frantic,
their fingers yanking impatiently at the clothes that separated them. Dylan
unhooked her bra, and his mouth was on her nipples, sucking them until Sabrina
was moaning and squirming, every tug of his lips shooting straight to her
loins. He went with the motion of her body, moving from one breast to the other
as he worked her skirt and panty hose off, not pausing until she was completely
naked.

Sabrina's hands were equally busy. By the time Dylan tossed the
last of her clothes to the floor, she'd unzipped his slacks and dragged them
down. She slipped her fingers inside his briefs, finding and exploring his
erection from base to tip.

"Shit." Dylan exhaled the word in a hiss. He vaulted off
the bed, kicked free of his clothing, then scooped Sabrina up long enough to
pull back the bedding, place her on the sheets. He came down over her, covering
her, his solid weight pressing her into the mattress.