Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 24

She watched his brows shoot up in surprise and thought she might just have a few bad-girl genes swimming around in her DNA, after all.

"My place," he repeated. "Are you sure about that?"

Gwen swallowed, holding his gaze. Her fingers tightened on the beaded clutch in her lap as she concentrated on her breathing to keep from hyperventilating. And then she nodded.

Ethan studied her for a long minute, inhaling the spicy scent of her perfume that wrapped itself around him and sent tendrils of longing straight to his groin.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd taken a woman home with him from the club, but he didn't usually set his sights on pet.i.te brunettes who got tipsy after only a couple of drinks. The women he hooked up with knew exactly what they were getting into and most times hung out at the club for just that purpose.

Still, there was something oddly intriguing about Gwen. About her walk, like a newborn giraffe, telling him she didn't wear heels that high very often. About the way she kept tugging at her short, black dress, as though she wasn't used to s.e.xy clothes that showed off her nicely shaped derriere.

For whatever reason, he wasn't ready to be free of her company just yet.

Turning to the driver, who was sitting patiently in the front seat with the meter running, he said, "You heard her. We're going to my place." He gave the man his address and hoped he wasn't making a horrible mistake.

He let her into his apartment, then tossed the keys onto a nearby credenza, watching as she sashayed across the white s.h.a.g carpet to the wide window overlooking the city. Lights sparkled and flashed on the black canvas like stars in a midnight sky.

"Can I get you a drink? Something nonalcoholic?" he asked.

She glanced over her shoulder and he was struck once again by how innocent she seemed. Even balancing on those stilts she called shoes, in her little dress, with her hair sprayed perfectly about her face.... She looked like any other club hopper who waltzed into the bar, but there was an air about her that said she wasn't nearly as experienced as she'd like people to think.

But then, the customers at The Hot Spot hung out there for any number of reasons. Some of them hoping to get lucky, some of them wanting to dance or drink, some just wanting to be part of a crowd so they wouldn't feel so alone. Why should Gwen be any different?

Why did he care?

He'd been asking himself that since they met, but still didn't have a decent answer.

"Yes, nothing alcoholic," she agreed softly, a small grin gracing her red-glossed lips. "Please."

"How about a soda?"

She inclined her head before turning back to the window.

After pouring them each a cola over ice, he moved behind her, handing her a gla.s.s over her shoulder. She took it and sipped.

"Happy birthday, by the way. Isn't that why you said you were at the club?"

Twisting to face him, she nodded. "I wanted to do something fun for a change."

"And did you? Have fun, I mean?"

She c.o.c.ked her head and her brown eyes deepened by three shades, reminding him of rich, French-roast coffee or a bottle of dark, aged rum.

After several seconds her voice lowered to a whisper. "I don't know yet."

l.u.s.t tore through him at her words. White-hot and throbbing, it raised the temperature in the room and brought him to full, almost painful arousal.

Until now, he hadn't been thinking of her in those terms...or at least he'd been trying not to. But her meaning was unmistakable, and all his good intentions about being a nice guy, entertaining her for a while and then seeing her safely home flew out the window.

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the cut gla.s.s tumbler. She was innocent. More innocent than most of the women he brought home from the club, at any rate. He needed to remember that and not take advantage of the situation.

Instead of scooping her up and carrying her to his bedroom the way he wanted, he took a long swallow of his drink, letting the carbonated soda tickle its way down his throat before gesturing to the couch.

"Would you like to sit down?"

For a moment he thought he saw disappointment flash across her delicate features before she moved past him toward the sofa. Ethan trailed behind, taking a seat beside her-close, but not too close-on the tan, overstuffed cus.h.i.+ons.

"I like your apartment," she told him. Perched on the edge of the couch, she scanned the modern decor while worrying the cool gla.s.s of soda between her two small hands.

"Thank you."

The interior had a definite bachelor feel to it. But then, that was what he was, and what he'd asked for when he'd hired the decorator. White s.h.a.g carpeting and a lot of black and chrome furniture filled the s.p.a.ce. No homey, family-friendly furnis.h.i.+ngs for him. He'd gone that route once and gotten kicked in the teeth for his trouble.

"You're welcome to stay the night," he found himself saying, though he honestly couldn't figure out why. "I have a small guest room you can use. That is, if you still don't feel like going home tonight."

Her lashes fluttered as she raised her gaze to his. "I've already inconvenienced you enough for one night. I don't want to be a bother."

A stab of something close to regret hit him low in the gut. A minute ago it had sounded as if she was offering herself to him, but, like an idiot, he'd taken the high road and pretended to misunderstand her meaning. Now she was getting ready to leave and he suddenly didn't want her to go.

He opened his mouth to tell her so, but she beat him to the punch.

"There is one favor I'd like to ask of you," she said softly. So softly, he had to strain to hear. "If you wouldn't think I was being too forward."

He shook his head, eager to do anything that would keep her with him just a little longer. "What is it?"

Averting her eyes, she drew a deep breath. The tip of her tongue darted out to caress her full red lips, causing blood to rush to his already half-aroused manhood.

"Would you please kiss me?"

Two.

H eat suffused Gwen's cheeks at her own audacity. Had she really just asked a virtual stranger to kiss her?

She'd meant to do something uninhibited for her birthday. But the way Ethan was looking at her, she had a feeling he thought her the biggest fool in Georgetown.

She lowered her head and started to set her gla.s.s on the low coffee table in front of the sofa, wanting nothing more than to escape from this man's apartment as fast as she could.

"I'm sorry," she said, unable to meet his gaze. "I shouldn't have asked that."

His hand darted out to grab her wrist as she began to rise.

"Wait. Don't go. And don't apologize," he said, urging her back down to the sofa. "You just caught me off guard there for a minute. I've been sitting here telling myself not to stare at your mouth or wonder what you look like naked. I was determined to be a gentleman and offer you a place to stay for the night-a place other than my bed, mind you," he added with a wry grin. "So the last thing I expected was for you to come right out and ask me to kiss you."

Gwen shook her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Hey." He took her chin between a thumb and forefinger, turning her to face him. "I told you, no apologizing. Kissing a beautiful woman isn't exactly a hards.h.i.+p, you know."

His words slid like drawn b.u.t.ter through her veins. No one had ever called her beautiful before, and whether she believed him or not, he'd made her feel beautiful.

After taking a deep breath, she licked her lips and stared into his green-flecked eyes. "So are you going to? Kiss me, I mean?"

His lips quirked up in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Yeah, I'm going to kiss you. Just...give me a minute, okay?"

Her stomach flipped over in antic.i.p.ation, her lungs struggling for air as she watched him watching her.

Why wouldn't he kiss her? What was he waiting for? Was she doing something wrong?

Maybe he didn't like to kiss women who had their eyes open. She'd sort of wanted to see what was happening. He was so handsome, and this meant so much to her. But if closing her eyes would get him to put his lips on hers that much sooner, then she would do it.

Letting her lashes drift closed, she s.h.i.+mmied closer to him on the overstuffed sofa cus.h.i.+ons and tipped her head back, mouth pursed in preparation. She felt his breath on her face and s.h.i.+vered.

"Gwen."

His voice, at such close proximity, vibrated across her skin.

"Open your eyes."

She followed his direction without conscious thought, eyes popping open to find him right there, his mouth hovering centimeters above her own. And then, before her brain could process anything more, he was kissing her.

His lips were like velvet, pressing and caressing while his tongue traced the line of her mouth before plunging inside.

Gwen had been kissed before; she'd even instigated kissing a time or two. But never in her life had she been kissed like this. Never before had the mere meeting of lips stopped her heart or sent heat pooling between her legs.

As gentle as Ethan was, he still devoured her, turning her inside out with the stroke of his tongue, the mastery of his lips.

When he finally released her, she slumped back against the arm of the sofa, breathing hard.

Wow. She'd heard the old adage "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it" but never realized it could be applied to the good as well as the bad.

Who was she kidding? That kiss hadn't been just good, it had been phenomenal. Her insides were still quivering and her lips were actually numb, at least around the edges.

One glance at Ethan and she knew he wasn't entirely unaffected, either. His chest rose and fell in quick bursts beneath the electric-blue silk of his jacket, and his unblinking eyes seemed riveted on her mouth.

She swallowed convulsively, letting her tongue dart out to lick the taste of him from her lips. If possible, his gaze turned even darker and hotter, threatening to singe her sensitive flesh.

"Would you think I was a terrible person if I said I'd like to do that again?" she asked, surprised she could find the courage to voice such a question.

"No," he answered without hesitation, "but you might be a mind reader."

He moved his hand up to brush the side of her face, and she tilted her head, leaning into the gentleness of his touch.

She'd never felt this sense of longing before, of wanting to wrap herself around another human being and never let go. Of having that man wrap himself around her.

And suddenly she knew if she left this apartment without making love to Ethan Banks...without letting him make love to her...she would never forgive herself.

"After you kiss me again," she said slowly, lifting her hand to cover his where it still rested against her cheek, "do you think you might be willing to make love to me, too?"

Desire hit Ethan in the solar plexus hard enough to drive the oxygen from his lungs. He must have died and gone to heaven. Or he was sleeping and having one of the best fantasies he'd ever imagined.

She was offering herself to him, and he wanted nothing more than to accept. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been this turned on.

But even so, he felt an insane need to protect Gwen...or at least give her a chance to change her mind before he dragged her down to the floor and buried himself in her warm, welcoming sweetness.

"Gwen." He let his fingers slide over her soft skin, down the column of her throat, to the small jut of her delicate collarbone. "You're a beautiful woman, but-"

Her hand shot out to cover his mouth, stopping him in mid-sentence.

"Please," she whispered, glossy brown eyes meeting his. "Don't say no. Unless you're not attracted to me. I'll understand if you aren't."

The last was said on a rush, her gaze sliding away in embarra.s.sment.

"It's not that," he was quick to correct her. "Believe me, it's not that."

"Then...maybe you could consider it a birthday present and just try. For me."

A dry laugh gurgled its way up his throat, getting stuck midway and nearly choking him.

Try? Consider it a birthday present?

Did she have any idea how hard he was trying right now to be n.o.ble? Or how difficult she was making it for him?

Would he make love to her?

h.e.l.l, yes.

Would he-or, worse, she-regret it in the morning?

Maybe.

At the moment, though, he honestly didn't care. Whatever the repercussions, he'd deal with them. Later.

He slid closer to her on the sofa, until his knees bracketed one of her black silk-clad legs. Running his fingers through her hair, he tucked a strand behind her ear and gave her what he hoped was a benign smile.

"I want you to be sure about this, Gwen. I want it to be you talking and not the two or three appletinis you drank at the club."

"It was only two," she answered, her eyes very clear and alert as she stared back at him. "And I'm very, very sure."

Thank G.o.d, he thought, swallowing a lump of antic.i.p.ation he hadn't realized was lodged in his throat.

With a nod, he rose to his feet and pulled her up after him.

He'd thought about taking her right there on the sofa, or maybe on the carpet in front of the sofa. But it was Gwen's birthday, and as much as he wanted her, he thought a little finesse might be called for rather than desperate groping in the middle of the living room.